By Ralph Gardner Jr.
An era may have come to a sad end with the news last week that
the CW Network is pulling the plug on its lineup of Saturday
morning cartoons.
This is cause for consternation and mourning.
And not because I had a weekly TV date with the CW's "The
Vortexx" animation block. But because the network is apparently the
last one airing cartoons on Saturday mornings.
This fact makes me grieve for generations of children yet to
come, who won't experience the bliss that I did Saturday mornings
in the '50s and '60s, knowing I had no obligations other than
marathon cartoon watching.
I'd go so far as to say that Saturday morning remains my
favorite time of the week because of its pleasant associations with
the cartoons of my youth.
The day would start, to the best of my recollection, with
"Sunrise Semester" and "The Modern Farmer."
These weren't cartoons. In fact, they were seriously adult
programs. But because they were so deadly boring and dreary, they
only heightened my hunger for the cartoons shortly to start.
I had a live-in baby sitter who was one of the deepest sleepers
of all time. So I'd go into the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of
Rice Krispies, with a twist. Instead of milk, I'd use Coca-Cola.
She was none the wiser.
Breakfast in hand, I'd return to her bed, turn the
black-and-white TV on low--why it was in her room and not mine I
can't say--and settle in to watch the day, and Saturday morning's
TV lineup, dawning.
In an effort to jog my memory, I've consulted the Internet for
the names of my formative cartoons.
But the exercise has left me more confused than ever because I
realize that some of my favorite programs--"The Howdy Doody Show"
with Buffalo Bob Smith and "Andy's Gang" with actor Andy
Devine--weren't cartoons at all.
In that same category was Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop, Roy Rogers,
and Sky King.
All I know is that "Fury"--maybe it "My Friend Flicka"--
signaled the conclusion of Saturday morning nirvana.
Around 11 a.m., well into my fifth hour of TV and essentially
punch drunk, my comatose baby sitter--by now fully awake--would
force me and my three younger brothers to go to the park.
Nonetheless, there were cartoons sprinkled in there somewhere:
Casper the Friendly Ghost, Mighty Mouse; Rocky and Bullwinkle,
Underdog ("There's no need to fear. Underdog is here!") and the
Jetsons.
I can't overstate the impact they had on my impressionable
brain.
Come to think of it, animation probably made that organ grow in
different and bizarre ways than it would had I been doing something
constructive with my time, such as playing in the fresh air.
To this day, I'm disappointed that real life hasn't caught up to
the future, as the Jetsons lived it.
For example, there were no old buildings on the skyline of
whatever metropolis George and Jane Jetson inhabited. Everything
was brand new.
Every generation's children has, or rather had, its distinct
Saturday-morning cartoon lineup.
One of my daughters told me her favorite shows growing up in the
'90s included "Recess" and "Pepper Ann."
I've never heard of "Recess" and "Pepper Ann."
Is that became I'm a bad father? Partially, but probably not
completely.
It is more an indication that they were part of her world, where
I was an intruder. With one exception: We all watched "Pee-wee's
Playhouse" together, as fine a Saturday-morning TV show as ever
existed.
However, almost more important than any particular show was the
knowledge that you were left alone to create your own morning, to
exist in an adult-free zone, absent your parents' autocratic edicts
and expectations.
Also, it was a delightfully slothful response to
hyper-parenting, or to parenting at all; the TV serving as a Mary
Poppins-caliber baby sitter--to hell with hockey practice, soccer
leagues, music lessons, chess club, horseback riding.
There was something more than mildly subversive about it
all.
It isn't as if cartoons will cease to exist. Apparently, the
reason they're vanishing from network TV is because children can
find them elsewhere, and any time of the day they want. There are
cable networks devoted exclusively to cartoons.
But part of what made them magical was that they existed on an
otherwise grown-up network.
Saturday morning was the time of day when children ruled the
world. And they got to run it the way children would if parents
didn't exist.
By doing whatever the heck they wanted. And all they wanted to
do, of course, was watch cartoons. And pour Coke over their Rice
Krispies.
ralph.gardner@wsj.com
Subscribe to WSJ: http://online.wsj.com?mod=djnwires