60 Minutes
Tick-tick-tick — Sunday night investigative theater that outrated sitcoms.
broadcast network
CBS is a broadcast home for television that still shapes what America (and the world) watches.
Catalog
Tick-tick-tick — Sunday night investigative theater that outrated sitcoms.
Supercopter Cold War fantasy — rotor wash and secret missions.
The master of suspense as dry host — murder with a wink and a silhouette.
Kiss my grits — Mel's Diner as working-class stage and catchphrase factory.
The living-room argument as national sport — bigotry, love, and loud chairs.
Hugely popular, deeply fraught — the sitcom that forces the conversation about race and early TV.
Godfrey's ukulele empire discovers stars — and teaches America how a host can own a network night.
Buddy Ebsen trades Jed Clampett overalls for a PI trench and lab coat.
Married couples vs. messy stunts and a ticking clock — proto-Fear Factor in formal wear.
Tunnel-world romance with Perlman's leonine hero and Hamilton before Terminator 2.
Two women detectives, one badge culture that had to make room.
Smile — you're on hidden camera. Allen Funt's prank sociology as entertainment.
William Conrad as the heavyweight PI who never needs to look like a leading man.
The gentle captain, Mr. Green Jeans, and a Treasure House of manners — no scream track required.
ER’s rival hospital — prestige white coats on the other network.
Unsubs, profile boards, and the BAU's dark comfort food.
Flashy forensics, Vegas neon, and the 'CSI effect' on real juries.
Who shot J.R.? — the cliffhanger that taught TV how to own a summer.
Spring Byington's merry widow — mother-in-law chaos as warm sitcom engine.
Good ol' Mr. Wilson! — comic-strip kid chaos in midcentury suburbia.
Atlanta interior designers with monologues sharp enough to reupholster the culture war.
Woman doctor on the frontier — Saturday family drama with progressive tilt.
Long Island in-laws as contact sport — multi-cam marriage comedy at peak craft.
Wine-country warfare with Jane Wyman as matriarchal iron fist.
Uncle Bill, Mr. French, and the twins — urbane guardian sitcom sweetness.
Perfect Strangers spin-off that got Urkel'd into a phenomenon.
The polished patriarch sitcom that sold middle-class calm as destiny.
Spy satire so sharp it still works when the gadgets look quaint.
Haunted mansion multi-cam that made network comedy feel easy again.
A three-hour tour that never ends — castaways as pure syndication candy.
Shazam! Mayberry's gas man joins the Marines — innocence vs. sergeant rage.
Projects sitcom with catchphrases, heartbreak, and industry arguments that never ended.
New York lawyer, socialite wife, Hooterville surrealism — rural sitcom goes absurdist.
The long-running western that turned Dodge City into a weekly moral court.
A chess-piece knight for hire — Paladin's calling card was cooler than most heroes' faces.
Book 'em, Dano — island cop drama with a theme that still chases you.
Cornfield vaudeville — country music, cornball sketches, and rural syndication power.
Allied POWs outwit Nazis every week — wartime sitcom as high-wire farce.
A long setup about a mother, with slap bets and yellow umbrellas.
The template for multi-cam chaos, physical comedy gold, and a star marriage the public thought it owned.
Celebrity secrets and panelist guesses — Goodson-Todman charm with a wink.
Navy lawyers with jet fuel — procedural that quietly built a franchise navy.
Two divorced moms, one Greenwich Village brownstone, SNL-caliber comic precision.
Dallas's suburban cousin — longest-running prime-time soap with quieter knives.
Who loves ya, baby? — bald charisma, lollipops, and Manhattan grit.
The collie who saved more kids than most sitcom dads — loyalty as weekly serial.
Suburban innocence as national brand — and later, the punchline for every 'not like that anymore' think piece.
Danger, Will Robinson — family space opera with a scene-stealing robot.
Mary's boss goes hour-long serious — newsroom integrity with teeth.
Ferrari daydreams and Vietnam ghosts under the Hawaiian sun.
Norwegian immigrant family warmth — live family drama before sitcoms ate the hour.
Hard-charging P.I. who takes the punches — detective cool after the gadget phase.
Single working woman energy that made the newsroom a second home.
War comedy that earned its tears — and a finale still used as a ratings myth.
Blank the blank — celebrity panel innuendo as daytime sport.
Liberal firebrand in Tuckahoe — abortion episode included, sponsors terrified.
Self-destructing briefings and team-craft heists — cool as a cold war martini.
A horse is a horse, of course — talking-animal sitcom that shouldn't work and did.
Angela Lansbury as America's most polite murder magnet.
A newsroom diva with a point of view — and a culture-war cameo by the Vice President.
Uncle Martin the antennaed alien — sci-fi sitcom before Trek made space serious.
Gale Storm's scheming daughter vs. dad's blood pressure — screwball sitcom fizz.
Widower dad, three boys, and Uncle Charley — domestic sitcom built to last.
Gibbs's rules, banter, and the procedural that outlived fashion.
Vermont inn deadpan — "Hi, I'm Larry; this is my brother Darryl; this is my other brother Darryl."
New York doctor, Alaska weird — quality TV with moose cameos.
Aloft culture for the masses — Leonard Bernstein, Orson Welles, and Sunday seriousness.
Divorced mom, two daughters, and a superintendent with all the punchlines.
Eve Arden's wisecracking teacher — the faculty lounge as comedy club.
Saturday morning surrealism — secret word screaming and design-school chaos.
Courtroom theater where the real killer always stood up — appointment justice.
Murrow via remote camera in celebrity living rooms — intimacy as spectacle.
Shady Rest Hotel, three daughters, and the Cannonball train — rural comedy's cozy hub.
Cloris Leachman's self-absorbed neighbor gets her own San Francisco chaos.
Small-town weird cases — Bochco’s Rome, Wisconsin fever dream.
Live ninety-minute prestige plays — when network TV still pretended it was Broadway with better lighting.
Head 'em up, move 'em out — trail-drive western that gave Eastwood his sneer.
Mary's best friend moves home to New York — wedding special as event TV.
Two guys, a Corvette, and America as open-road anthology.
Housewife meets spy — suburban espionage with will-they charm.
Meddling kids, a cowardly Great Dane, and monsters who are always Mr. Whoever.
Murrow with a cigarette and a conscience — when news still looked like a civic sacrament.
Brother PIs — one denim, one preppy — riding Magnum's lead-in wave.
Westinghouse's live stage — where 'Twelve Angry Men' first argued on television.
Outwit, outplay, outlast — reality TV's founding American empire.
Isolation booths, big money, and the quiz boom that made America hold its breath — then file subpoenas.
Richard Greene's Robin — British export that American kids treated like native folklore.
Mayberry as moral GPS — gentler than the decade around it.
Oil-rich Clampetts crash Beverly Hills — rural comedy as ratings dynamite.
Nerd culture goes multi-cam prime-time global.
Hi, Bob — deadpan psychology with the perfect group-therapy Greek chorus.
Movie parodies, Tarzan yells, and variety comedy's gold standard ensemble.
Make Room for Daddy — nightclub dad energy meets living-room warmth.
Writers' room meta-comedy with dance breaks and perfect timing.
Yee-haw justice — General Lee jumps, Boss Hogg schemes, and controversy rides shotgun.
The Sunday night stage where America met the Beatles — and every comic who needed a break.
Ex-spy with a newspaper ad — urban vigilante cool before the movie reboots.
Visual gags, blackouts, and Nairobi Trio — the medium inventing itself for laughs.
Fourth-wall George and dizzy-logic Gracie — marriage as perfected vaudeville.
Political scandal's aftermath as smart network prestige.
Working-class rage and love in a Brooklyn kitchen — short run, infinite influence.
Don't make me angry — Bill Bixby pathos, Lou Ferrigno smash.
The world's cheapest violinist and the longest pause in comedy history.
The Great One's variety palace — where the Honeymooners were born between production numbers.
Movin' on up — Black excellence, dry-cleaning money, and a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Canadian sketch anarchists — Head Crusher, Chicken Lady, and fearless queer bits.
Lucille Ball post-Desi — widow schemes, bank chaos, and comedy empire 2.0.
Michael Anthony delivers a tax-free million — then we watch money ruin or redeem a stranger.
Herman's bolts, Grandpa's cape — monster family as blue-collar sitcom.
Fran Fine’s voice, wardrobe, and Queens energy invade a Broadway household.
Law school as blood sport — Professor Kingsfield terrifies a generation of pre-law kids.
Sgt. Bilko's motor-pool hustles — the funniest con man in uniform television ever licensed.
West Virginia clan hits the California farm — rural sitcom before Green Acres made it a punchline.
Clem Kadiddlehopper and Freddie the Freeloader — pantomime pathos with a clown's tear.
Folk-sibling banter that smuggled Vietnam-era dissent onto CBS.
I got you babe — marital sparring as variety gold before the divorce plot twist.
Moral fables in a black suit — twist endings that taught America to fear its own reflection.
Industrial giant, theatrical punch — live drama with a steel-hard production sheen.
Goodnight, John-Boy — Depression-era mountain family as soft-focus America.
White coach, mostly Black high-school team — gym class as social drama.
Steampunk Secret Service on the frontier — gadgets meet six-guns.
Genoa City boardrooms and bedrooms — youth, wealth, and that theme song.
Three claim the same identity — only one is telling the truth, and the panel sweats.
Space Academy cadets learning the solar system — homework with rocket ships.
Angels with case files — faith-based network drama as comfort appointment TV.
Wrong answer? Do the stunt. Ralph Edwards's radio chaos, now with cameras.
Beach-house multi-cam machine — then the most public cast explosion in sitcom history.
Robert Stack’s trench coat and that theme — true crime as living-room séance.
Chuck Norris roundhouse justice — sincere pulp that became meme archaeology.
Steve McQueen and a sawed-off Mare's Leg — bounty-hunter cool before he was a movie king.
Blindfolds, witty panelists, and celebrity mystery guests — proto-reality glamour.
Undercover arcs with real serialization — before prestige was a marketing word.
Turkeys away! — rock radio misfits and the funniest disaster in sitcom history.
Spinning transformation, golden lasso, and Lynda Carter as patriotic pop icon.