77 Sunset Strip
Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb — Hollywood private eyes with cool jazz.
broadcast network
ABC is broadcast television with a long memory: suburban spells on Bewitched, island mythology on Lost, hospital weather on Grey's Anatomy, and classroom warmth on Abbott Elementary. Dynasty, Charlie's Angels, Happy Days, Roots, and The Wonder Years still share the same prime-time argument. Not a cable novel, not a streamer dump — a living-room network.
On TV Flash, ABC reads as the broadcast network that could sell a nose twitch, a plane crash, and a Wisteria Lane casserole under one logo. Bewitched and The Addams Family make suburban weirdness appointment comedy; Roots and The Fugitive prove event drama can still outrun the clock. Moonlighting flirts. Desperate Housewives gossips. Grey's Anatomy never clocks out.
The deeper shelf is just as loud. Alias trains you for mythology; All My Children and American Bandstand keep daytime and after-school in the mix; Barney Miller, Batman, and black-ish prove the comedy can be precinct, camp, or family politics. Start with a highlight, then wander into 77 Sunset Strip or China Beach when you want the network's other temperatures.
ABC is where American prime time learned to mix family sitcom, event miniseries, and glossy soap without becoming a cable novel. Bewitched, Happy Days, and The Wonder Years sold the living room; Roots, Lost, and Grey's Anatomy sold the watercooler. It is broadcast scale: many tones, one schedule.
Begin with the highlights that still argue: Lost for mythology, Abbott Elementary for the current classroom, Roots for event drama, Moonlighting for flirtation as plot. Then drop into catalog heat — Alias, Barney Miller, All My Children, or Dancing with the Stars — depending on whether you want spies, a precinct, daytime, or Saturday glitter.
CBS in this catalog leans Lucy, Gunsmoke, and the Sunday stopwatch; NBC leans Cheers, Friends, ER, and Law & Order. ABC's broadcast flavor is suburban magic, island puzzles, and soap that photographs as a lifestyle. Same living-room fight, different house style.
Catalog
Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb — Hollywood private eyes with cool jazz.
Double agent. Red wigs. J.J. Abrams before the island.
Pine Valley forever — Erica Kane as daytime's defining diva empire.
Dick Clark's after-school dance floor — where kids rated records and stars paid court.
Home-video fails as primetime — user-generated comedy before YouTube.
Don't do the crime if you can't do the time — street-level undercover with a cockatoo.
One squad room, infinite paperwork — the smartest cop comedy that barely left the station.
Pow! Bam! Camp crusader in tights — the color-TV superhero explosion.
Married couples vs. messy stunts and a ticking clock — proto-Fear Factor in formal wear.
Man, woman, birth, death, infinity — intense neurosurgeon drama with a chalkboard creed.
Soap's butler takes the statehouse — deadpan competence vs. political chaos.
Upper-middle-class Black family sitcom that smuggled essays into multi-cam comfort.
Cory, Topanga, and Mr. Feeny — growing up on TGIF in public.
Smile — you're on hidden camera. Allen Funt's prank sociology as entertainment.
TV's first hour-long western smash — Clint Walker as the drifting mountain of a hero.
Vietnam through nurses and R&R tents — prestige war drama without the gung-ho filter.
Saunders' squad in WWII Europe — grit over glory on network war TV.
Celebrities, sequins, and judge shade as Monday-night ritual.
Daytime vampires, werewolves, and Collinwood gothic — soap opera goes undead.
What you talkin' about, Willis? — adoption comedy with very real aftershocks.
Walt himself sells a magic kingdom on Tuesday nights — TV as the world's longest commercial, and a gift.
A little bit country, a little bit rock and roll — sibling variety as teen-idol TV.
Boy genius doctor journals each episode — Neil Patrick Harris arrives.
Sacramento brood with a columnist dad — blended-family sprawl before it was a genre.
Bookstore sitcom that made history with “The Puppy Episode.”
Fort Courage farce — cavalry, Hekawi schemes, and slapstick frontier corruption.
Survey says! — Richard Dawson kissing contestants into a national habit.
Perfect Strangers spin-off that got Urkel'd into a phenomenon.
De plane! — wishes granted with a twist and a white suit.
Uncle Jesse hair, Olsen twin cuteness, and wholesome chaos as TGIF religion.
Port Charles pulse — 1970s medical soap that set up a later supercouple explosion.
Psychiatrist dad, journalist mom, and Kirk Cameron as Tiger Beat chaos.
When the Harts take a case — champagne detective couple energy.
Individualized Honors Program kids with a substitute teacher who actually gets them.
Tool Time testosterone and Tim Allen’s grunt — a 1990s ratings bulldozer.
Annalise Keating’s class of killers — twist factory with Viola Davis gravity.
Wire-service reporter vs. monsters — seersucker suit against the supernatural.
Ad-lib puppets and Fran Allison — gentle absurdity that adults watched without irony.
Grasshopper walks the West — martial arts mysticism in a frontier serial.
Schlemiel! Schlimazel! — bottle-cappers, basement dreams, and Milwaukee mayhem.
Door Number Three and costume-clad traders — deal-making as carnival chaos.
Bishop Sheen vs. Milton Berle in the ratings — a chalkboard and a cape beat vaudeville some weeks.
Superman as rom-com — Teri Hatcher and Dean Cain’s flying chemistry.
Duct tape, paper clips, and no gun — problem-solving as action-hero brand.
Robert Young's kindly GP — house-call empathy as ratings medicine.
A gambler hero who preferred cards to bullets — the western that winked.
Stuttering CGI-ish host and cyberpunk TV news — 20 minutes into the future.
PT-73 hijinks — wartime sitcom with Ernest Borgnine's sneaky skipper.
Three households, one mockumentary — family sitcom reinvented for a new decade.
Nanu nanu — Robin Williams as alien chaos in Boulder, Colorado.
Angela Chase narrates adolescence like it actually hurts — one perfect canceled season.
Widower dad, three boys, and Uncle Charley — domestic sitcom built to last.
There are eight million stories — and this one was shot on the real New York streets.
Butts, badges, and Sipowicz — network TV learning to be adult out loud.
Aloft culture for the masses — Leonard Bernstein, Orson Welles, and Sunday seriousness.
Cousin from Mypos, dance of joy, and Chicago fish-out-of-water chaos.
Cool jazz PI, blonde nightclub, and a Henry Mancini score that outlived the plots.
Prime-time scandal town — secrets, affairs, and serial heat twice a week.
Six episodes of pure Zucker spoof — canceled, then immortal via Naked Gun movies.
Pie-maker touches dead people — candy-colored noir canceled too sweet to live.
Applause-meter misery pageant — the most 1950s show that ever 1950s'd.
Brothers at war with class — the novelization of the American century in chapters.
A boy and his German shepherd at Fort Apache — military kid adventure with bark.
A flying squirrel, a moose, and Cold War satire — Jay Ward's anarchic gift at decade's end.
Integrated L.A. high school — relevance sitcom-drama with chalk dust.
Working-class chaos without the sitcom polish — loud, broke, and revolutionary.
Talking cat, magic aunts, and Melissa Joan Hart — TGIF enchantment.
Olivia Pope’s gladiators — Shondaland live-tweeting as national sport.
Conjunction Junction and bills on Capitol Hill — three-minute genius between cartoons.
Fantasy cutaways in a teaching hospital full of found family.
Prime-time rock variety — go-go dancing and British Invasion heat on ABC.
Tia and Tamera — twin sitcom energy that defined mid-’90s youth multi-cam.
Arizona rancher with a Cessna — aviation adventure for kids who wanted wings.
Daytime-soap parody with murder, aliens, and a butler who saw everything.
Commander Buzz Corry vs. the universe — ray guns, brainagraphs, and 30th-century justice.
Mayoral farce in NYC — Michael J. Fox’s comeback engine.
Sorkin walk-and-talk in a sports highlight studio — two seasons of velocity.
Gran Torino buddy cops — street cool with a giant afro sidekick named Huggy Bear.
Hall of Justice roll call — Justice League for the cereal-hour crowd.
Special weapons energy — theme song chart heat and paramilitary gloss.
Sunshine Cab Company's beautiful losers — rough New York hope in a garage.
Marlo Thomas's aspiring actress — single-girl independence in a still-daddy world.
The real Nelson family playing themselves — meta domestic TV before anyone said 'meta.'
Jaime Sommers: tennis pro, teacher, ear of steel — feminist cyborg cool.
Here's the story — blended-family sitcom that became 70s afterschool religion.
Make Room for Daddy — nightclub dad energy meets living-room warmth.
Bachelor, bachelorette, and innuendo — dating as primetime quiz.
Donna Stone's perfect living room — mid-century motherhood as star vehicle.
Cleveland rocks — big box store workplace sitcom with musical cold opens.
Visual gags, blackouts, and Nairobi Trio — the medium inventing itself for laughs.
Hollywood stuntman who moonlights as a bounty hunter — meta action cheese.
Efrem Zimbalist Jr. vs. the ten most wanted — Bureau procedural as national myth.
Prime-time stone-age sitcom — yabba-dabba-doo as American family brand.
Teacher in a super-suit who can't quite fly — and that theme song.
Britt Reid and Kato — martial-arts sidekick energy that made Bruce Lee a U.S. star.
They're here — Quinn Martin's alien-invasion paranoia in a suit-and-tie America.
Space-age family sitcom — flying cars, push-button jobs, and Rosie the robot.
A-one and a-two — champagne music for America in a bubble of pure polka polish.
Hugh O'Brian's Earp — Buntline Special justice and a badge polished for prime time.
Hi-Yo Silver — masked justice, a faithful friend, and the purest kids'-western brand of the age.
Excursion of the week — guest stars, cupids in white, and Pacific soft-focus.
Mouseketeers, ears, and 'M-I-C-K-E-Y' — Disney's talent school broadcast daily.
One Black, one white, one blonde — undercover youth cops for the counterculture age.
Neat freak vs. slob — Broadway DNA in a New York apartment.
There is nothing wrong with your television set — sci-fi anthology with teeth.
Come on get happy — family band sitcom that sold real records.
Identical cousins — one Brooklyn bounce, one Edinburgh poise, one Emmy kid star.
Boston lawyers, moral gray, and David E. Kelley’s Emmy factory.
Bill Cullen and the art of the bid — pricing game as mid-century consumer fantasy.
West Virginia clan hits the California farm — rural sitcom before Green Acres made it a punchline.
A widowed dad, a boy, and a rapid-fire Winchester — fatherhood with a lever action.
Moose and squirrel vs. spies — puns, Cold War satire, and fractured fairy tales.
Young cops learning the badge — Spelling-Goldberg earnest street drama.
We can rebuild him — slow-mo bionics and the sound effect you can still hum.
Cable-car cop mentorship — Karl Malden grit and a young Michael Douglas.
Industrial giant, theatrical punch — live drama with a steel-hard production sheen.
Eliot Ness vs. Capone's Chicago — machine-gun morality plays in sharp suits.
Yuppie angst as weekly opera — feelings, careers, and dinner-party existential dread.
Roper misunderstandings, Jack on a bike, and the art of the slammed door farce.
Space Academy cadets learning the solar system — homework with rocket ships.
Guadalajara meets Mode magazine — heart, fashion, and fish-out-of-water charm.
Irwin Allen's Seaview — submarine spectacle with sea monsters and Cold War nerves.
A moving town of guest stars — the prairie as anthology stagecoach.
Sweathogs in the back row — and a theme song that charted for real.
Rerun, Raj, and Dwayne — soda-shop hangouts and Mama's basement rules.
Phone-a-friend fever — quiz show as primetime event TV at decade’s end.
Househusband baseball player, ad-exec boss, and will-they tension with gender-role flip.
The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat — anthology sports as global window.
Spinning transformation, golden lasso, and Lynda Carter as patriotic pop icon.
Disney's masked caballero — Z's carved into California legend and kids' hearts.