What I watched: The eleventh episode of The Life of Riley, an early sitcom. The episode starred Jackie Gleason, Rosemary DeCamp, Gloria Winters, Bob Jellison, Pattee Chapman, and Steve Clark. It was directed by Herbert I. Leeds, and written by Irving Breecher, Reuben Shipp, and Alan Lipscott. “Prom Dress” aired on NBC at 9:30 PM on Tuesday, December 13, 1949, and is available to watch on the Internet Archive.
What happened: Riley learns that Babs has a school dance upcoming, and predictably doesn’t like it. But it’s all okay, because Babs isn’t going to the dance. It turns out that nobody asked her. Yeah, welcome to the club Babs. Peggy blames Riley for scaring all of the boys off, including the previously-seen Simon.
On the night of the dance, snooty teenage girl Helene (Chapman) lords it over Babs. It turns out that Riley has arranged a date for his daughter, and he comes in a Cadillac and everything. The boy is Jeff (Clark), the heir to a department store chain, who looks about 32. This pleases her, until she gets a call from Tony (presumably not the same guy from the last episode), saying that the dance’s dress code has been changed to formal and that she has nothing to wear. But a decent dress would be a whole $30!
Riley once again sets to “fixing” the problem by dialing up old friends and hitting them up for money. This doesn’t go well. Waldo comes in, but says he has no money to lend, because his wife controls the pursestrings. (He’s effete, do you get it?) Riley decides to trade in his prized bowling ball for a gown at the “Economy Swap Shop”, and sends Waldo to do it, because this is a sitcom.
Contrary to my expectations, Babs likes the dress, but Riley hides the fact that it’s secondhand. Helene comes by to gloat, and to attempt to steal Jeff. She reveals that the dress that Babs is wearing was originally tailored for her. It even has her initials on it. Babs is humiliated, and Jeff leaves for the dance with Helene. Well, he was a creep anyway.
Riley goes up to Babs’ room to tell her that he’s a terrible father. But she tells him that she’s not upset, just mad at Helene. Jeff comes back and says that he “taught Helene some manners” by driving her out to Glendale and leaving her at a bus depot. Okay, that sounds a little cruel, but whatever. Jeff tells them that he’s actually poor, with a rented tux and a Cadillac he uses as a chauffeur. Riley is very pleased at this development, and they go to the dance I suppose.
What I thought: Perhaps spurred by his new education, Riley seems to have undergone a sea change when it comes to his teenage daughter’s romantic life. As Peg brings up, he was previously protective to the point of abusiveness, chasing off one suitor after another. But now he is actively encouraging his daughter’s emerging sexuality, arranging dates for her. When she goes to pick out a lipstick, he even tells her to “put on a flavour that Jeff likes.” I guess he finally came to terms with the fact that his children will soon be adults who will make their own decisions. Who says there’s no character development on sitcoms?
Perhaps the reason why patriarchal control takes a back seat is that this episode focuses on one of Life of Riley‘s other favourite topics, that of class. By contemporary standards, the Riley family is firmly middle class — not only does the father have a steady job, they have a house! In Los Angeles! But, as in so many comedies, there’s a snooty rich person to emphasize the main characters’ relatively humble origins and lack of sophistication.
What this episode introduces is the symbolic element of class. It is not enough to have money, one must publicly display the symbols of wealth. The middle class is permitted to borrow these symbols for ceremonial occasions, such as a wedding or, in this episode, a school dance. In this way they show that, in their best moments, they can be almost like the rich.
Life of Riley goes so far as to suggest this imitation of wealth is better than the real thing. Riley is not the villain for buying a secondhand prom dress: it’s Helene for trying to draw a distinction between tailored and secondhand. Jeff turns out to be a good guy at the same time he turns out to be poor. There is something nobler, the series suggests, about straining to afford your family a taste of luxury than being able to afford it easily.
Speaking of finances, the obviously limited budget of Life of Riley is starting to show. The entire episode takes place on the set of the family home, with plot elements like Jeff’s Cadillac not being seen. Cast members who would seem relevant here, like Simon, are rotated out for people we’ve never seen before. There are a couple of Newhart-esque phone conversations where exposition is fobbed off on an offscreen character. Of course, the story of television is largely the story of making narratives work under economic limitations. But it echoes interestingly with the episode’s lionization of illusory wealth.
Coming up next: If it’s called The Lone Ranger, why did they make so goddamn many of them?
-“This isn’t 1890, fathers have changed.”
The Eternal Couch Potato 