June to Ward! There’s Something Wrong with the . . . Republican Debate!

Mainly, that I kept thinking about Leave It To Beaver.  Like, every candidate was an evil doppelgänger to characters on a sweet — AND NO LONGER RELEVANT TO OUR LIVES EXCEPT DURING A CABLE NOSTALGIATHON — television show.  I love me some nostalgia, but I keep hoping that the ongoing presidential mini-series might swerve into contemporary relevance.  

Fat chance.  As long as Republicans babble-squabble about economic and social policies most of the country has moved beyond, they keep rebranding themselves as the Grand Old/Outdated Party.  Not to mention the last debate’s signature trait — puerile name-calling, which of course sent viewers (or, at least, me) into reveries of elementary school nonny-nonny-boo-boo contests.  Which, in turn, led to thoughts of that era’s (few, because there were only three channels available on my family’s newly and proudly purchased TV set) must-watch programs, of which Leave It To Beaver was primus inter pares.  It didn’t occur to me, as a kid, that this child-centric show was also boy-centric (what other choices were there, other than the Mickey Mouse Club, which was more gender-balanced?).  In fact, I’d never thought about it until, well, a couple days ago, when I was trying to sort out the reasons that comparing the debate to the Cleaver family saga made sense.

So that’s one reason: both LITB and the Republican Debates are male dramas, full of jockeying for supremacy and the tensions of male bonding and the conundrums of potential male power.  The second reason, as I suggested above, is the juvenile level of ‘discussion.’  The third reason is the retronaut quality of today’s Republican discourse and policy.  As Elizabeth Warren asked Republicans (re the jihad against Planned Parenthood) a day or so ago, “Did you fall down and hit your head and wake up and think it’s the1950s?”  

The fourth reason is that the GOP debaters actually remind me of LITB characters.  In some instances, they look like them; in all instances, they embody stereotypical traits encapsulated in those characters.  

Will the real Eddie Haskell stand up?

Although Rand Paul certainly has Eddie Haskell hair, and a good measure of Eddie Haskell smarminess, Donald Trump wins the role so fast it’ll make your head spin.  Eddie’s signature trait is seamless sycophantic duplicity, as in threatening Beaver in one breath (“beat it kid, or else”) and complimenting his mother June in the next (“you’re looking lovely today, Mrs. Cleaver”).  As in (Trump version): Carly Fiorina is too ugly to be President but I think she’s a beautiful woman.  Also, to many of us Eddie is the star of the show, the snarkiest and most interesting of the Cleaver brothers’ (male) friends.  Until his poll numbers tank: Donald Trump takes the coveted role of Eddie Haskell.

Wally and the Beaver: a tale of two brothers

Leave it to Beaver’s core is the relationship between an older and a younger brother — at times supportive, at times contentious.  Wally, stolid and not overly bright, tolerates the Beaver, his chubby-cherub-cheeked and spit-shined-hair shadow, until the pesky sibling interferes with his plans.  This relationship is supposed to be the heart of the show, but Eddie Haskell ‘changes the narrative’ by pitting brother against brother, to the dismay of the parental elites. How can one not think of the relationship between the Florida pols in this race?  The older ‘brother’ Jeb! Bush used to consider the younger ‘brother’ Marco Rubio as his protege; now they’re fighting over closet space in their shared primary bedroom, often egged on by the Donald, the Haskellesque agent provocateur.

What about the women?

Women do make appearances in Leave It To Beaver, and two make an impression.  My favorite is Beaver’s classmate Judy, the sanctimonious tattle-tale whom nobody likes.  For good reason:  she’s a humorless prig who will probably grow up to be a disastrous CEO who shamelessly touts her bad business record as qualification for higher office.  Now that we’ve disposed of Carly Fiorina . . . let’s consider Ted Cruz.  His utter despicability makes it hard to match him with a LITB character, as the show has a paucity of actual villains.  With apologies to the great Barbara Billingsley, I have to pair Cruz with June Cleaver — primarily because of similar coy smirky smiles, secondarily because as the series progressed, June becomes more and more frantic and irrational, manically dishing up (green?) eggs and ham breakfasts to her unappreciative family.

We mustn’t forget ‘the guys’

Both Wally and the Beaver have pals with whom they hang around.  Rarely do any of ‘the guys’ drive an episode’s plot, but they function as comic relief and as all-purpose foils.  Wally’s most memorable friend (other than Eddie, of course) is Lumpy, an oversized lug who vacillates between being a bully and being a marshmallow. Can we say Chris Christie? As far as Beaver’s friends go, there’s the sniveling Whitey and the conniving coward Larry.  And yes, we can and should say Scott Walker and Mike Huckabee.  Whitey/Scott, who seems to have the intelligence of a no-see’um, consistently disappears into the scenic woodwork; Larry/Mike has major talent for whining, lying, and blaming everyone else for whatever bad fortune or malfeasance occurs within his orbit.

Are there any actual adults on the set?

Good question. Like today’s Republican party, Leave It To Beaver consigns women to housekeeping and (non-unionized) elementary-school teaching roles, thus infantalizing them and leaving ‘adult’ responsibilities to the men. Ward Cleaver is the paterfamilias, one part Dagwood Bumstead and one part a Robert Young/Danny Thomas hybrid.  Although Ward makes mistakes and doesn’t always express himself judiciously, he’s ultimately the voice of reason and solver of problems. This is the role many relatively sane Republicans hope John Kasich will fill.  Which he hasn’t yet.  Ward’s friend and coworker Fred Rutherford (Lumpy’s father) is another male adult, frustrated and often inarticulate. Ben Carson, whom some conservangelicals see as an acceptably ‘grown up’ alternative to Trump, Cruz, or Huckabee, fits here.  After all, both Fred and Ben rock those Rick Perry smart glasses.

Where is Gus the Fireman, the real problem-solving adult disguised as an apple doll, when we need him?  Since Burt Mustin, who played Gus, was born in 1884, he may have voted for Teddy Roosevelt, back in the nostalgia days when Republicans were un-ironically progressive.  When he was playing Gus, he may have voted for Dwight Eisenhower, the Republican who called out the military-industrial complex.  I wonder for whom he would vote today.