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The After-School Special
Column 1: Jordache and Life Lessons
Used to be a time when life’s dilemmas – issues as hairy and heartbreaking as an unplanned pregnancy, suicide and drug abuse – could be tackled, summed up and solved in a one-hour network-TV drama.
I’m referring to ABC After School Specials, and I get a little choked up thinking about them. I’d often watch the specials with Chips-Ahoy and milk on Wednesdays at 4 p.m., switching from The Merv Griffin Show after Guiding Light. The morality plays featured feathered hair, impassioned overacting and comforting resolutions.
Though educational, the dramas were actually cool. They’d star familiar actors we’d crush on or new stars on the rise, usually sporting the latest designer jeans with a fat comb jutting out of the back pocket.
One of the more popular episodes, "The Boy Who Drank Too Much," starred Scott Baio. Baio, to my prepubescent delight, appeared in several of the specials.
''
After School Specials’'' plots didn’t extend beyond the realm of possibility, sometimes edgy, sometimes overtly optimistic. They gave us a window to a world much more attractive than ours and starred good-looking families in breezy California suburbs. Their homes had custom vans parked out front and smartly decorated rooms with hot stuff of the day, like Star Wars, a nipply Farrah Fawcett or babyfaced Shaun Cassidy.
The series began in 1973, pre-slime Nickelodeon, pre-Saved By the Bell, pre-cable or -VCR. I started watching them during their height of popularity, when catching a TV special of any kind was exciting. (Remember the twirling CBS Special intro with the percussive, jazzy music that made us all gasp? It was a break from the routine. Serendipity ruled our worlds.)
After-school specials represented to us something hip and modern, much unlike the preachy wash-your-hands-thoroughly-bomb-drill education films of the ‘50s that our teachers screened from projectors (which, ironically, acquired a kitschy cachet later on when Pee-Wee Herman featured them during his shows).
More poignantly, after-school specials embody an even starker contrast from the cynical syndication of today – the Judge Judys, the Cops.
Or the anti-after-school special: reality TV.
They’re borne of a time when TV brought Americans hope for future days. Not to sound like that old lady waving a cane, but nowadays, it’s all a bunch of litter that would bring a tear to an American Indian’s eye.
I decided to name my new recurring column “After-School Special”, not only as a tribute to a nugget of pop culture that gets me gushy and sentimental, but as, hopefully, a break from the grind for those whose inner child has been sad and needs some clarity and relief.
It’ll touch on all the neuroses, accessories and necessities of trying to stay true to oneself while surviving in a recession economy. Topics will revolve around the need to evolve and sometimes let go, but hold onto those shreds of youth that make us who we are. You know, “Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Rage against the machine. Rage against rage-aholics. Etc.
My goal is to share issues that somewhat with-it adults and adult-wannabes can relate to, bring some laughter to the mix and talk to people who might know a little more than me.
And if this little write-up can sometimes be as sexy and cute as a 15-year-old Scott Baio, well then that indeed would be special.
I’m referring to ABC After School Specials, and I get a little choked up thinking about them. I’d often watch the specials with Chips-Ahoy and milk on Wednesdays at 4 p.m., switching from The Merv Griffin Show after Guiding Light. The morality plays featured feathered hair, impassioned overacting and comforting resolutions.
Though educational, the dramas were actually cool. They’d star familiar actors we’d crush on or new stars on the rise, usually sporting the latest designer jeans with a fat comb jutting out of the back pocket.
One of the more popular episodes, "The Boy Who Drank Too Much," starred Scott Baio. Baio, to my prepubescent delight, appeared in several of the specials.
''
After School Specials’'' plots didn’t extend beyond the realm of possibility, sometimes edgy, sometimes overtly optimistic. They gave us a window to a world much more attractive than ours and starred good-looking families in breezy California suburbs. Their homes had custom vans parked out front and smartly decorated rooms with hot stuff of the day, like Star Wars, a nipply Farrah Fawcett or babyfaced Shaun Cassidy.
The series began in 1973, pre-slime Nickelodeon, pre-Saved By the Bell, pre-cable or -VCR. I started watching them during their height of popularity, when catching a TV special of any kind was exciting. (Remember the twirling CBS Special intro with the percussive, jazzy music that made us all gasp? It was a break from the routine. Serendipity ruled our worlds.)
After-school specials represented to us something hip and modern, much unlike the preachy wash-your-hands-thoroughly-bomb-drill education films of the ‘50s that our teachers screened from projectors (which, ironically, acquired a kitschy cachet later on when Pee-Wee Herman featured them during his shows).
More poignantly, after-school specials embody an even starker contrast from the cynical syndication of today – the Judge Judys, the Cops.
Or the anti-after-school special: reality TV.
They’re borne of a time when TV brought Americans hope for future days. Not to sound like that old lady waving a cane, but nowadays, it’s all a bunch of litter that would bring a tear to an American Indian’s eye.
I decided to name my new recurring column “After-School Special”, not only as a tribute to a nugget of pop culture that gets me gushy and sentimental, but as, hopefully, a break from the grind for those whose inner child has been sad and needs some clarity and relief.
It’ll touch on all the neuroses, accessories and necessities of trying to stay true to oneself while surviving in a recession economy. Topics will revolve around the need to evolve and sometimes let go, but hold onto those shreds of youth that make us who we are. You know, “Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Rage against the machine. Rage against rage-aholics. Etc.
My goal is to share issues that somewhat with-it adults and adult-wannabes can relate to, bring some laughter to the mix and talk to people who might know a little more than me.
And if this little write-up can sometimes be as sexy and cute as a 15-year-old Scott Baio, well then that indeed would be special.
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