This post may contain affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, I may earn a commission at no additional cost to you. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. Read my Affiliate Disclosure.
If Norman Lear had ever been a guest at my dinner table, I have a feeling we would've argued about a few things.
I also suspect he would've enjoyed every minute of it.
After all, this was the man who helped give us Archie Bunker, George Jefferson, Maude Findlay, and some of the loudest, most opinionated characters in television history.
And thank goodness for that.
I grew up watching All in the Family, Good Times, The Jeffersons, and other shows associated with Norman Lear. They helped shape my sense of humor, introduced me to different perspectives, and taught me quite a bit about human nature.
I didn't agree with everything those characters said. I certainly wouldn't agree with everything Norman Lear believed.
But I don't have to agree with somebody to appreciate what they've taught me.
That's something I wish more people understood.
Norman Lear Wasn't Afraid to Make People Uncomfortable
Before All in the Family premiered on January 12, 1971, television families generally weren't having the kinds of arguments that would become regular occurrences in the Bunker household.
There were certainly disagreements on older sitcoms, but Lear was willing to bring subjects into American living rooms that many television producers would rather have avoided.
Prejudice. Money. Class. Marriage. Politics. The generation gap.
And he did it with comedy.
Not polite little jokes that everybody could chuckle at without getting upset. Real arguments, with characters who were stubborn, outspoken, unreasonable, and sometimes completely full of themselves.
In other words, he wrote about people.
All in the Family was adapted from the British sitcom Till Death Us Do Part, but Lear also drew inspiration from his own family, including his relationship with his father.
That might explain why the Bunkers felt so familiar.
Most of us have known an Archie Bunker. Some of us have lived with one. And if we're being truthful, most of us have probably had an Archie moment ourselves.
You know the kind. You're absolutely convinced you're right, you won't let anybody finish a sentence, and by the time you realize you might have been mistaken, you've already made such a production out of it that admitting defeat feels impossible.
Archie practically turned that into an art form.
Archie Bunker Wasn't Always Wrong, and Mike Stivic Wasn't Always Right
Here's where I probably differ from some people who write about All in the Family.
I don't believe every argument should be judged according to which character represents the supposedly enlightened point of view.
Archie was frequently prejudiced, stubborn, and downright insulting. He had an extraordinary talent for saying something offensive and then acting bewildered when somebody objected.
But Mike Stivic could be an arrogant pain in the ass himself.
Mike was educated, outspoken, and convinced that his beliefs made him more reasonable than his father-in-law. Yet he could be condescending, self-righteous, and remarkably unwilling to recognize his own shortcomings.
So we had two men who disagreed about practically everything while sharing one very annoying habit.
Neither could stand being wrong.
And poor Edith was frequently caught in the middle.
I've always believed having strong opinions is perfectly fine. I have plenty of them myself. But there's a difference between standing by your principles and treating everyone who disagrees with you like an idiot.
Archie often crossed that line.
So did Mike.
And that's one of the things I appreciate about their arguments. You could recognize the foolishness on both sides without pretending their individual beliefs or behavior were identical.
Being educated doesn't automatically make you considerate. Being older doesn't automatically make you wise. And being absolutely certain of something doesn't make it true.
I don't care which side of the dinner table you're sitting on.
Bad manners are still bad manners.
Edith Bunker Understood Something the Men Didn't
I've always had a soft spot for Edith Bunker.
Archie frequently treated her as though she didn't have a thought worth listening to. He dismissed her questions, interrupted her, and made fun of her intelligence.
Yet Edith often demonstrated more genuine understanding of people than the men who considered themselves so much smarter.
She wasn't always sophisticated, and she certainly wasn't perfect. But she had compassion.
She recognized that people had feelings. She understood that kindness could accomplish something an argument couldn't. And she didn't need to win every conversation to feel good about herself.
Now, I don't believe being a mensch means allowing people to walk all over you. Edith could have stood up for herself more often, and I would've been cheering her on.
But her gentleness was not the same thing as stupidity.
That's an important distinction.
Some people mistake a quiet personality for a weak character. Others assume the loudest person in the room must be the strongest.
I've seen enough of human behavior to know that's nonsense.
Sometimes the person speaking the least is the only one who's actually listening.
Good Times Showed Me That Money and Character Aren't the Same Thing
Another Norman Lear-associated show that stayed with me was Good Times.
James and Florida Evans didn't have much money. Their family faced unemployment, financial hardship, and all sorts of problems that couldn't be solved by wishing them away.
But what I remember most is the family's determination to maintain its dignity.
James worked hard, worried about providing for his family, and sometimes allowed his pride or frustration to get the better of him.
Florida tried to hold everyone together while dealing with problems that would've exhausted just about anybody.
The children had their own personalities, ambitions, and questionable decisions.
And through it all, there was humor.
That's something I appreciated even when I was younger.
The Evans family didn't have the nicest apartment or the easiest life, but their circumstances didn't determine their worth.
I've never believed having money makes someone better than anybody else.
Nor do I believe struggling financially makes someone less respectable.
What matters to me is how people behave.
Do they keep their word? Do they work honestly when they're able? Do they treat others with dignity? Do they take responsibility for themselves and their families?
Those things tell me far more about a person's character than the size of their home or bank account.
And I think Good Times gave viewers plenty of opportunities to consider that.
George Jefferson Proved You Can Move Up Without Growing Up
Then there was George Jefferson.
Oh, George.
Here was a man who achieved financial success, built a business, and moved his family into a beautiful Manhattan apartment.
And somehow, with all that success, he still managed to behave like a complete jackass on a regular basis.
I loved watching him.
George was ambitious, hardworking, proud, and determined to succeed. Those are qualities I can respect.
But he was also arrogant, argumentative, and occasionally so impressed with himself that you wondered how Louise put up with him.
He could look down on other people while being furious whenever he felt somebody looked down on him.
Talk about a contradiction.
That's one of the things I find so interesting about human behavior.
People can recognize unfair treatment when they're receiving it while remaining completely oblivious to the way they treat somebody else.
George wanted respect.
Fair enough.
But respect isn't something you get to demand while treating everyone around you like they're beneath you.
Louise frequently had to remind him of that.
And once again, television gave us a wife who often had more common sense than the husband doing all the shouting.
I'm beginning to notice a pattern here.
The Man Behind the Shows Had His Own Convictions
Norman Lear was born in 1922 and grew up in a Jewish family.
His childhood included some difficult experiences. His father went to prison when Lear was nine, and Lear later spoke about hearing antisemitic broadcasts by Father Charles Coughlin.
Those experiences helped shape his awareness of prejudice and his interest in the way people treat one another.
He went on to serve in the Army Air Forces during World War II before building his remarkable career in entertainment.
Lear was also politically outspoken. He supported causes he believed in and eventually helped establish People for the American Way.
I don't share every position he held, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
I'm an old-school woman with my own beliefs about morals, family, manners, personal responsibility, and the way people ought to conduct themselves.
I don't automatically embrace something because it's fashionable, modern, or presented as progress.
But I can respect someone who believes strongly in something and is willing to put his name behind it.
And I can appreciate a writer who understood that disagreement makes for interesting television.
What I especially admire is that Lear didn't seem afraid of allowing his characters to be flawed.
Archie could be wrong. Mike could be obnoxious. George could be hypocritical. Maude could be overbearing.
These weren't people designed to win a popularity contest every week.
They were people whose faults gave audiences something to argue about.
And occasionally, they taught us something about our own.
Norman Lear Didn't Write Every Word Himself
There's another part of Lear's television legacy that deserves attention.
He didn't create all those shows single-handedly, and he certainly didn't write every episode.
Television is collaborative. Writers, producers, actors, directors, and countless others contribute to what eventually appears on the screen.
For example, Good Times was created by Eric Monte and Mike Evans, with Lear developing the series. The Jeffersons was created by Don Nicholl, Michael Ross, and Bernie West, with Lear also credited for development.
Those distinctions deserve recognition.
I believe in giving people credit for their work, whether they're household names or people whose names appear at the end of the credits while everybody's getting up to find a snack.
Lear deserves enormous credit for helping bring these programs to television.
So do the people who worked with him.
And since this website is supposed to be about decency and responsibility, giving credit where it's due seems like a pretty good place to practice what I preach.
What Norman Lear Understood About Humor
I think one of Lear's greatest strengths was understanding that people are often funniest when they're taking themselves far too seriously.
Archie never seemed to realize how ridiculous he sounded.
George Jefferson could be so consumed with proving his importance that he completely missed the point of a situation.
Mike Stivic could spend an entire argument explaining how reasonable he was while becoming increasingly unreasonable.
And the audience got to watch it all unfold.
I love that kind of humor.
I don't need a character to trip over a chair or have something dumped on his head to make me laugh. Sometimes all he has to do is open his mouth.
And sometimes the funniest part isn't what a character says.
It's the look on somebody else's face while they're saying it.
Lear's shows understood the comedy in hypocrisy, vanity, stubbornness, and ordinary human foolishness.
I suppose that's one reason they've stayed with me.
The fashions have changed. The furniture looks dated. Some of the conversations belong unmistakably to another era.
But people still argue about money, marriage, parenting, respect, and who's right.
And some people still can't admit they're wrong even when the evidence is practically sitting on their lap.
Did Norman Lear Teach Us to Be Better People?
I don't think television can make somebody decent simply by showing them a character behaving badly.
People have to decide what to take from a story.
Some viewers may watch Archie Bunker and recognize the damage caused by prejudice. Others may focus on his frustrations, his fears, or his occasional moments of tenderness.
A good character can provoke different reactions.
What I admire about Lear's best work is that it gave audiences something to think about after the laughter stopped.
You might finish an episode feeling sympathy for someone you hadn't understood before.
You might realize a character you usually agree with had behaved terribly.
Or you might discover that the supposedly foolish person in the room had more common sense than everybody else.
That's television doing something useful.
It's the same reason I appreciate shows like The Andy Griffith Show. In "Opie's Charity," Andy Taylor gets so caught up in his assumptions about his son that he forgets to listen. The writers allow a respected father to be wrong and learn from it.
Lear's characters didn't always learn so gracefully.
Usually there was more shouting involved.
But the principle is familiar: Nobody should be above having their behavior questioned.
Not a parent. Not a boss. Not a wealthy businessman. Not an educated person. And certainly not somebody who thinks being right gives them permission to behave badly.
What I'd Say to Norman Lear Today
Norman Lear died on December 5, 2023, at the age of 101.
He left behind an extraordinary television legacy.
If I could sit down with him, I'd probably thank him for the laughter first.
Then I'd tell him how much I appreciated the characters he helped bring into our living rooms.
I'd tell him that his shows taught me to question people's behavior, recognize hypocrisy, appreciate different perspectives, and develop a sense of humor about the ridiculous things human beings do.
I'd also tell him where I disagreed.
And I wouldn't apologize for having my own convictions.
I have a feeling he could've handled that.
I don't believe being a mensch means agreeing with everybody, changing your beliefs to avoid controversy, or keeping quiet when you think something is wrong.
I believe it means being honest, having principles, treating people decently, and understanding that you don't have to win every argument to have character.
Norman Lear gave us decades of television characters who struggled with those very things.
Some succeeded. Some failed miserably.
And we laughed at all of them.
I may not have agreed with everything Norman Lear believed, but he helped teach me something I still believe today: You can have strong convictions without forgetting that the person across the table is a human being.
Even when that person is Archie Bunker.
Sources and Further Reading
Norman Lear — Television Academy Interviews
Norman Lear — Official Biography and Legacy
Norman Lear: Just Another Version of You — PBS American Masters
Good Times — Paley Center Episode Credits
The Jeffersons — Paley Center Episode Credits
Enjoyed This Article?
Get more TV nostalgia, good laughs, and life lessons delivered to your inbox. Subscribe to CouchDegree.com!
