Pre-teen, Prime Time Dreaming

On a childhood longing to be Danny Partridge

The Brady Bunch revivalism of Hollywood and Broadway has opened up an old debate between a friend and I. Which early 70's prime time TV family was the cooler? I'm sorry, but it just wasn't the Brady's.

When I was nine years old I had a dream that was to secure a different TV program in my favour for life. I'm one of those who rarely recalls nocturnal brain activities, and whatever else I dreamed up that night is forgotten. Pleasant dreams can leave one feeling uplifted in the morning, and I remember feeling light on my feet for the rest of that day.

I had dreamt I'd replace Danny in The Partridge Family.

The details are lost now, if there ever were any. All I remember was the famous family bus, the fact Danny had gone down, and that suddenly I was their guy. Super.

It wasn't entirely out of the question. I was nearly Danny's age – he's a year, maybe two, older. I had his bushy patch of hair, combed to the side. (Mine was nowhere near red, but what are dyes for?) I'm sure I had Danny's well-known "impish grin and twinkling eyes." I certainly was as pudgy as the little bass-player. And for a kid, I think I shared some of Danny's precocious manner.

Paint a few freckles on me!

Paint a few freckles on me and I was away.

This wasn't part of an unmanageable fantasy I had conjured to escape real life. In reality, my mom would have missed me, and I would have not consciously traded her in for Shirley Jones, even to become a Partridge.

The dream happened because I was a fan obsessed. In total I bought (and wore out) 5 LP records. I tacked Teen Beat publicity photos to my walls, leaving the plaster full of holes. And Friday nights, in front of our old Eaton's black & white set, primetime was mine.

The theme music of The Partridge Family series chirped "Come On, Get Happy." What could be more corny? "We get a happy feeling when we're singing our song…," go the lyrics. That kind of unabashed gaiety is now kept out of TV altogether, save during kiddie shows like Barney the Dinosaur.

Pop music and television are always a precarious match. TV usually gets it all wrong. The Monkees succeeded because very, very hip people were involved. A tiny cadre of filmmakers that included Jack Nicholson and Dennis Hopper were mixed up in the creation of The Monkees. The fact that the show was cool, clever, hip and on primetime was a fluke.

Partridge Family logo

The Partridge Family was a strange experiment that worked. The musical family concept was loosely based on the career of The Cowsills. They were a mom-and-kids act that was managed by the father, "Bud" Cowsill. They made a ripple in the music world by providing the theme for the rock musical Hair, and the opening theme song for Love American Style (a show that coincidentally followed Partridge Family on Friday nights).

But the Cowsills were just wrapping up their short career when The Partridge Family was hitting the airwaves. To top off the show's successful first season "I Think I Love You" became a Billboard #1 single. The odd chart-topper emanates from the tube, but look what it did for Aaron Spelling's teen drama The Heights: their song was a hit, but nobody watched.

Good songs were actually a factor in selling The Partridge Family. Some very solid songwriting and performances went into their LP's. Four Top 20 hits and a few minor singles sold millions of records. I'll argue with anyone who doubts "I Can Feel Your Heartbeat" and "I Woke Up In Love This Morning" aren't great songs.

TV historians make much ado of Mary Tyler Moore's single working girl character, Mary Richards. But how about being a single mom with 5 kids?

The Partridge kids never pined for their dad once. We'll never know where he went, but questions linger: did he have brown hair or red? Did he have any musical talent? Did he buy their white house with the picket fence? Did he send alimony?

The surrogate father figure was of course their manager, Reuban Kincaid. Reuban was the businessman/bachelor with a weakness for hi-balls and stewardesses. He wasn't a father so much as a guy who stood around in the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hand. Maybe some families don't need a dad, but just someone to bounce jokes off of.

Nonetheless, the family unit held up with humility and decency. Shirley sometimes complained they were broke, but they managed. Personal shortcomings and teenage angst were repeated concerns, but the family always learned by them.

Everyone was a smartass in The Partridge Family. If one character took themselves too seriously, another would take a poke. The humour was a self-regulating device. No individual or situation got too heavy, too overwhelming. It was the root of this family's success. They could laugh at themselves.

These qualities brought me close to the show. My home was similar I suppose, though the difficulties were not always so easily resolved. My mom, my sister and myself – we could always tease the other.

In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't trade places with Danny. The Danny of today, Danny Bonaduce, hops the talk show circuit, smiles through his infomercial, and works deejay gig somewhere, all the while spouting A.A. truisms in his gravelly voice. Put bluntly, the post-Partridge life for Danny was kinda lousy. The stuff of tabloids.

We'll always have The Partridge Family, however. To my delight, it rests in re-run heaven. And while the show's cornball plots, lip-synching and simple moralities may not translate for today's youth, to my eyes, it's a TV treasure.

My friend pretends not to be convinced of the Partridge greatness. But on a whim I called by, and there on the tube the famous family blasted out.

End of debate, I say.