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| Ted McGinley and Henry Winkler on Happy Days. |
I can't say that I've won a lot of awards in my time. If I owned a trophy case -- and I don't because I still have a shred of sanity left -- it would largely be empty. I remember being a kid and feeling unreasonably jealous of those classmates who received perfect attendance medals at the end of the school year. That seemed so unfair to me. Why should I be punished simply for getting sick a couple of times? It's not like I chose to be contagious!
My grades were generally fine, if not spectacular, and I was a total washout at sports. So I didn't win awards as a kid, and I continue not to win them as an adult. I'm a little bitter about that, sure, but I think I keep my bitterness to a reasonable level. It occupies maybe one-eighth of one percent of my brain, about as much as my irritation with hangnails.
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| Didn't Sally Field speak for all of us? |
I think this matter of awards is significantly more important to those in show business. After all, if you're an entertainer, your job depends on receiving support, praise, and encouragement from the public and the press. Even Lady Gaga admitted to all of us that she lives for the applause. When people stop applauding for you, that can be devastating. People go mad from it. (See Sunset Blvd.) Entertainers' self-image is dependent upon what others think of them. So, yeah, they're going to want every Oscar, Emmy, Grammy, and Tony they can get their hands on. We all snickered at Sally Field for her infamous "you like me!" speech at the Academy Awards, but isn't it true?
Receiving one of those industry awards may be even better than applause. It means that you're not only liked but respected. And if you're in an industry where a great deal is subjective -- since no one can ever definitively prove what's "good" or "bad" in art -- awards are as crucial as TV ratings or box office receipts. They're as close as you can get to objective, verifiable evidence of your success. Awards may be unfair or political or arbitrary, but they're also permanent. If you win one of those major industry awards, it becomes part of your story. It'll be mentioned when you die. It becomes part of the historical record, etched in stone.
Happy Days did quite well in the ratings for about seven of its eleven seasons. In addition, it had a long and prosperous second life in reruns and generated a fair share of merchandising revenue. So it was liked, but it was not respected. The reviews ranged from middling to hostile (I found one article from the '70s that called the modest sitcom "everything that's wrong with television"), and the show won one measly Emmy in eleven seasons. And that was for editing!
The eighth season episode "And the Winner Is..." deals directly with the matter of awards. The plot has a desperate Fonzie (Henry Winkler) campaigning vigorously but fruitlessly for the Teacher of the Year (or TOTY) award at Jefferson High. Not only does he not win the award, he's not even nominated. It's easy to read this episode as Happy Days' response to the Emmys. Family Guy and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia also did episodes about their failure to win these coveted awards. Happy Days ultimately comes to the conclusion that awards, while nice, don't really matter. What matters is knowing that you're doing good work.
Is it a convincing argument? Find out when we review "And the Winner is..." on the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast. And if there are any TV podcast awards we could possibly win, please nominate us.