Lowest common denominator sank the captain

One of my childhood friends died recently. If it's any consolation, most of America is sharing in the grief.

Captain Kangaroo - Bob Keeshan in real life - died Jan. 23. Weekday mornings from 1955 to 1991 on CBS, then public television, most preschool children started their day with the captain and his cast - Mr. Green Jeans whose contraptions always fell apart, glasses-wear-ing Bunny Rabbit who always tried to trick the captain out of carrots, Mr. Moose whose knock-knock jokes always ended with the captain being showered in dozens of Ping-Pong balls.

Two generations grew up with Captain Kangaroo, and as they changed, so did elements of his show. There was the black and white version that Baby Boomers watched; back then, a younger Keeshan wore a big sea captain's coat with oversized pockets and broadcast from the "Treasure House." Then came the color version for Generation Xers - the one I watched - where a more mature Keeshan wore a red blazer and broadcast from the "Captain's Place."

At the core, though (gathering from my talks with "older" colleagues), Captain Kangaroo was the same walrus-mustachioed, slightly rotund, doddering old friend with the Dutch-boy haircut who read stories and entertained children no matter what the year.

And he always was quite real. Why, his house and Mr. Green Jeans' barn could be just down the road, beyond the next cornfield.

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No educational instruction occurs in a moral vacuum. In history class, the covering of specific wars, personalities and political events implies they carry greater importance than the ones left out. Stories in reading and English courses each offer a lesson, even if simplistic. Science and health classes carry curricular limitations because of political storms stirred by belief-sensitive winds.

Television is little different. Broadcasts seethe with our cultural values.

A question raised by Keeshan - and later Fred Rogers and Jim Henson - was whether we should allow television to appeal to the lowest common denominator and hence reinforce in children the worst of our society's values, such as violence as a means of solving a problem.

Their conclusion was that children appreciated having their intelligence challenged and that adults need not talk down to youth.

It's why Captain Kangaroo always started the show by saying, "Good morning." He wanted it to seem as if he were talking only to you.

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From a marketer's perspective, Captain Kangaroo just didn't cut it. He couldn't draw the viewers and was slashed to a half-hour then reduced to a once-a-week appearance each Saturday during his last days on CBS. Maybe if he would have had laser beams and foul-mouthed fourth-graders, the show could have survived.

Instead, public television picked him up for a few final years. But with cable's ever-expanding buffet of children's shows, even PBS had to move on. Perhaps if Keeshan had added explosions, Ninja-style kicks and a puppet that could be sold as an action figure, the show could have gone on.

But the program didn't encourage anyone to violence. It didn't persuade kids to attempt dangerous stunts. It didn't sell any sugary breakfast cereals.

It did increase the telling of knock-knock jokes among preschoolers, though.

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Everyone has a favorite memory of Captain Kangaroo. Some enjoyed the stories he read. Others recall how they learned to tie shoes from a skit involving Bunny Rabbit. I myself liked repeating "Abracadabra, please and thank you!"

These days, I find that too few people say "please" and "thank you" in public discourse.

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Ironically, Captain Kangaroo's undoing was his very strength: He wasn't edgy.

Keeshan moved through his show at a leisurely pace. For many of my generation, it was a pleasant relief for sleepy heads too often suffering through family turmoil.

Keeshan found teaching some very basic life lessons was most important. Play fair. Share. Tell the truth. Say "please" and "thank you." Be kind to your parents. Follow the Golden Rule. And along the way, have some fun.

They're good lessons to learn. Looking at the news in a recent paper, there are a number of people who probably should have watched Captain Kangaroo.

But alas, the lowest common denominator won. The Ping-Pong balls just kept falling and falling and falling. He went off the air.

Rest in peace, old friend.

(originally published Feb. 1, 2004)