Sitcom Politics

By Richard Zoglin

MAKING WISECRACKS about Vice Presidents is a venerable tradition on TV. But the gang-stomping of Dan Quayle at the Emmy Awards ceremony two weeks ago resembled a Rodney King beating by the Hollywood elite. Quayle, TV's favored whipping boy ever since he made Murphy Brown a campaign issue last May, was the butt of what seemed like every third joke onstage. Comedian Richard Lewis said he would "run away" if Quayle ever became President; Robin Williams, in a clip from the Tonight show, described Quayle as being "one taco short of a combination plate." Candice Bergen, accepting her Emmy for Murphy Brown, sarcastically thanked the Vice President. And Diane English, Murphy's creator, capped the evening with a defense of single mothers that crossed the line into partisan meanness. "As Murphy herself said, 'I couldn't possibly do a worse job raising my kid alone than the Reagans did with theirs.' "

The audience laughed and applauded many of these lines. But the morning- after reaction was more troubled. At a campaign rally the next day, Quayle used the Emmy barrage to pound home his point that "Hollywood doesn't like our values." Many in the TV industry agreed that the whole display was, at the vematically disparage such values as patriotism, religious faith and marital fidelity. "Tens of millions of Americans now see the entertainment industry as an all-powerful enemy, an alien force that assaults our most cherished values and corrupts our children," he writes. "The dream factory has become the poison factory."

It's a strange sight. Conservative critics charge that the nation's most popular entertainment medium is out of step with the American people. Republican politiciasode in which Murphy responds to the Vice President. While harriedly tending to her new baby, she hears his remarks on TV and reacts with incredulity: "I'm glamourizing single motherhood? What planet is he on? I agonized over that decision." Later, she appears on her TV show to answer Quayle's charges: "Perhaps it's time for the Vice President to expand his definition and recognize that whether by choice or circumstance families come in all shapes and sizes. And ultimately, what really defines a family is commitment, caring and love."

TV's rebuttal to Quayle will not end there. An upcoming episode of Hearts Afire, a new sitcom set in Washington, features a scene in which a dull-witted conservative Senator (George Gaynes) sees Murphy Brown on TV for the first time. What has Dan Quayle got against that "good-looking woman?" he asks his chief aide (John Ritter). "Well, Senator, she had a baby out of wedlock," the aide says. "But she's not real, is she?" replies the Senator, echoing the snide chorus of derision that greeted Quayle's attack on "a fictional character."

TV is venturing into the political fray on other topics as well. The Simpsons chose the night of Bush's acceptance speech at the Republican Convention to make their reply to the President's gibe. "Hey, we're just like the Waltons," said Bart. "Both families spend a lot of time praying for the end of the Depression." The Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings were the subject of pointed comments on Designing Women last season. "The man does not belong on the Supreme Court," said one character. "He belongs in the national repertory theater." Even frivolous shows like Freshman Dorm, a CBS summer entry, reveal TV's heightened political consciousness. "Be careful what you wish for," said a black student. "I wanted a black Supreme Court Justice, and I got Clarence Thomas."

Prime time will draw even more heavily on the headlines this fall. The recession will be Topic A on Roseanne, as Dan Conner loses his job and the family must scramble to pay its bills. The Los Angeles riots will be the backdrop for episodes of several series, including A Different World and Doogie Howser, M.D. In Doogie's season opener, for example, the hospital staff spends a frantic shift caring for riot victims. Though the show takes no political stand on the riot or its causes, Doogie expresses his sympathetic sentiments at the end by paraphrasing Martin Luther King Jr. in his computer diary: "A riot is at bottom the language of the unheard."

Such topicality, of course, is not new for entertainment TV. More than 20 years ago, Norman Lear's All in the Family introduced the notion that situation comedies could provide social commentary while getting laughs. TV movies and drama shows like L.A. Law tackle virtually every headline-making issue that comes down the pike, from date rape to capital punishment. Nor has left-leaning political satire been unknown on network TV: The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in the late 1960s and Saturday Night Live starting in the mid-'70s took on Establishment targets with irreverent glee.

But never have prime-time entertainment shows been so bold about commenting on current affairs -- or their creators been so willing to step outside their characters to engage in political debate. "I had no animosity toward Quayle," says Bergen, "but then this glint of a zealot appeared. With the recent poverty figures that have been released, and the highest levels of unemployment since 1984, making ((Murphy's motherhood)) a campaign issue is insane." Producer Diane English -- who even challenged Quayle to debate the < issue, to no avail -- draws a rather far-fetched parallel between the Administration's campaign against TV and the '50s blacklist: "I really feel like I'm entering a new era of McCarthyism, where one day somebody is going to come up to me and say, 'Are you now or have you ever been involved in the television business?' "

The current wave of TV bashing is different from the attacks on excessive sex and violence launched in the past by conservative watchdogs such as the Rev. Donald Wildmon. Nor does it have much to do with recent right-wing charges that PBS programming -- mainly a few independently produced documentaries -- has a liberal slant. It goes straight to the hearts and mind- sets of the people who create the shows that most of America watches. In essence, it is an extension of an argument made by Ben Stein, a TV scriptwriter and former Nixon speechwriter, in his 1979 book, The View from Sunset Boulevard. Stein contended that, on subjects ranging from religion to the military, TV reflects the values of a pampered, predominantly liberal Hollywood elite.

It is hard to dispute the contention that TV's creative community, on the whole, has a liberal bent. Democratic activists are easy to find in Hollywood; Republicans (with a few exceptions, like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Charlton Heston and Major Dad's Gerald McRaney) tend to lie low. "There used to be a rule in Hollywood that you didn't mix your politics with your image," says one producer. "This wall came tumbling down for liberals but not conservatives. The conservative talents don't flaunt their politics."

A survey of 104 top TV creators and executives, conducted by the Center for Media and Public Affairs, a Washington watchdog group, found that the views of this TV "elite" are considerably more liberal than those of most Americans. For example, 97% of the respondents held a pro-choice view on abortion, 86% supported the right of homosexuals to teach in public schools, and 51% do not regard adultery as wrong. "People in Hollywood are overwhelmingly left of center," says S. Robert Lichter, co-director of the center, "so it makes sense that they do material that is congruent with their point of view. So you get material on environmentalism, feminism, gay rights. You won't see old- fashioned patriotism, stories on religion, support for the military."

It is not at all certain, however, that liberal views translate into advocacy programming. Most producers insist that they avoid political commentary and strive for balance in presenting controversial issues. "We're here to entertain people, not become social activists," says Dick Wolf, executive producer of Law & Order. Steven Bochco, co-creator of L.A. Law and Doogie Howser, M.D., says, "Philosophically, I've been opposed to using my shows as political forum."

Diane English too insists her goal is to entertain, not sway voters. But she concedes she made the character of Murphy Brown "a liberal Democrat because in fact that's what I am." She sees TV's political role in somewhat grandiose, Madisonian terms. "The people in power, whether Democrats or Republicans, all have access to the airwaves. The opposing point of view is often not heard, and in this case, with 12 years of Republicans who are followed around by the press, with every word and every speech documented, perhaps Hollywood's liberal bent is kind of a natural balance to that."

The closest thing TV has to an advocacy producer is Linda Bloodworth- Thomason , creator of three current network shows: Designing Women, Evening Shade and the upcoming Hearts Afire. She and her husband Harry Thomason are Clinton friends and supporters (and part-time residents of Little Rock) who produced the biographical film that introduced the candidate at the Democratic Convention. "So-called serious newspeople miss the powerful potential of the entertainment forum as a means of influencing people's lives in a positive way," she says. "I have my own column on TV, and I take it as seriously as does Mike Royko or David Broder." Yet Bloodworth-Thomason denies that the TV community is a liberal monolith. "Entertainment corporations are owned by old, white, conservative, rich men," she says. "The artists they employ are more liberal. The slant of what the artists are allowed to put out will be determined by the profit factor. The bottom line is money."

Indeed, the structure of network television serves to keep entertainment from wandering too far from the safe political center. Advertisers, for example, shy away from any program that takes a controversial political stand or gets too explicit about sensitive subjects like homosexuality. No leading character in a prime-time TV series since Maude has had an abortion, mainly because of advertiser skittishness. "There's no issue today more contentious," says Joel Segal, executive vice president at McCann-Erickson/ New York. "Nobody is interested in alienating large blocs of viewers."

^ Network executives, not surprisingly, have the same concerns. Censors monitor shows closely for any material that might be objectionable to a large (or at least vocal) segment of the audience. "It's the responsibility of good television to be topical, but it should not espouse any political candidacy," says CBS Entertainment president Jeff Sagansky. Still, success in the ratings (Murphy Brown commands the highest ad rates of any series on TV) can go a long way toward calming network nerves. "The viewers vote for Murphy Brown every week," says Sagansky, "and only vote for Dan Quayle every four years."

So does network TV reflect a liberal sensibility? Yes, a certain political correctness does prevail around the dial. The concerns of feminists, environmental activists and oppressed minorities are given sympathetic treatment; big corporations are usually portrayed as villains; government bureaucrats are typically inept or uncaring. But this is probably due less to political calculation than to dramatic necessity. Artists tend to gravitate toward humanistic concerns rather than institutional ones; pitting an underdog against the system always makes for a better story. This is not necessarily proof of liberal bias any more than the proliferation of TV shoot-'em-ups means that Hollywood producers support the N.R.A.

The irony is that one area where TV espouses unmistakably conservative values is the very one that Quayle chose to focus on: the family. Though single-parent households are common on TV (as they are in real life), the family bond is nearly always portrayed as strong and indispensable. If TV has any prevailing sin, it is its sunny romanticizing of that bond: no matter what the conflicts or crises, family love makes everything come out all right. If Dan Quayle were to look at TV a little more closely, he might find the stuff of Republican dreams.

With reporting by Jordan Bonfante and Martha Smilgis/Los Angeles and Janice C. Simpson/New York