Sitcoms Online Photo Galleries - WKRP In Cincinnati: Jan Smithers, Gary Sandy and Loni Anderson

WKRP in Cincinnati aired from September 1978 until September 1982 on CBS.

WKRP, a Cincinnati radio station that had been losing money for years by playing sedate music, saw sudden and dramatic changes with the arrival of new program director, Andy Travis ( Gary Sandy). Andy's decision to turn WKRP into a "top 40" stations alienated its elderly audience and also a few sponsors - such as "Barry's Fashions for the Short and Portly" and "The Shady Hill Rest Home." It also created a trying situation for Arthur Carlson ( Gordon Jump), the inept and bumbling general manager who only held his job because his mother owned the station. But Mama Carlson ( played by Sylvia Sidney in the pilot and Carol Bruce in the series) decided to give Andy's plan a try - as long as the station turned a profit.

The staff of WKRP was full of offbeat characters which included: Les Nessman ( Richard Sanders), the naive, gullible and pompous news director whose only conern was his farm reports and Bailey Quarters ( Jan Smithers), Andy's enthusiastic young assistant, who took care of the billing, handled traffic and was eventually added as a backup news reporter working with Les. The two WKRP disc jockeys seen regularly were morning dj Dr. Johnny Fever ( Howard Hesseman), a jive-talking type who seemed constantly spaced out and night dj Venus Flytrap ( Tim Reid), a hip black guy who had worked with Andy at other stations.

Jennifer Marlowe ( Loni Anderson), the sexy but efficient receptionist, actually held the station together. She knew more about what was going on than her boss, Mr. Carlson, did. Loni Anderson soon became one of the major sex symbols of the 70's. She quickly demanded a huge increase in salary or she would leave the show - she got it and stayed.

The final regular was Herb Tarlek ( Frank Bonner), WKRP's high-pressure advertising salesman who spent most of his time, although he was married, making passes at Jennifer. He was more talk than action as he was totally intimidated when she indicated she was willing to take him up on his offer in one episode. "Mama" Carlson was a constant htreat to all of them but only showed up occasionally to complain about something they either did or didn't do!

An Article from Time Magazine

R.I.P. the Honest Laugh
Monday, May. 24, 1982 By RICHARD CORLISS

Cancellations bring an end to an era of sophisticated sitcoms

The small Minneapolis TV newsroom was dark with disuse when the old gang—Mary Richards and Lou Grant, Murray Slaughter and Sue Ann Nivens, Ted and Georgette Baxter—came back one last time for reminiscence and rue. As clusters of the faithful were doing in living rooms and the classier pubs across the country, the WJM team had assembled to lament the untimely passing of some fine old friends: Louie De Palma, Doctor Johnny Fever, Detective Harris, Mork from Ork. With a few swipes of TV executives' pens, four of the best comedy series of the late 1970s—Taxi, WKRP in Cincinnati, Barney Miller, Mork & Mindy—had been erased from the prime-time schedule. Their ghosts would haunt reruns, but the message seemed clear: the era of the sophisticated sitcom was over. Thus it was fitting that the characters who had inhabited the Mary Tyler Moore show, first and best of breed, should reconvene after a five-year separation to pay their respects.

"I guess I'll miss Taxi the most," Mary said, sighing her big sigh. "It was written by our writers—James L. Brooks, Stan Daniels, Ed. Weinberger, the great David Lloyd. The Taxi characters were so much like us, and so good at it. The Sunshine Cab Co. was a place to work in that became a place to live in. And your co-workers became your friends: Alex the off-duty rabbi, and sweet dim Tony, and Latka the gentle schizoid. And Reverend Jim, phoning in his blissed-out wisdom from Planet X. And Elaine, the only woman, who desperately wanted to be somewhere else but couldn't leave the place she knew as home . . ."

She stifled a sob. Lou looked up from a bottle of Top o' the Heather long enough to mutter, "There goes Mary Waterworks again." Sue Ann nibbled on a quiche.

"I liked Louie," said Ted, his cracked-cello voice aswoon. "The man had style."

"Louie!?" Murray snorted. "That malevolent little fireplug? That broken toilet of a man? That Rumpelstiltskin sadist to whom everything human was alien? Who was happy only when he could make everyone else miserable—which was most of the time? Who gave new meaning to the phrase old meany?"

Ted nodded. "Like I said, the man had style."

Murray ignored the remark. "I'll miss WKRP in Cincinnati," he volunteered, his bald head waxing nostalgic. "They were like us too—a tiny, not very successful radio station whose employees were never quite resourceful or ruthless enough to be No. 1. I always thought of them as human Muppets. Dynel Andy and soft, squeezable Mr. Carlson tried to keep their charges in order. But Venus Flytrap and Johnny Fever, the disc jockeys, were too weird, and Les Nessman too straight, and Bailey too nice—a little like you, Mary—and Herb Tarlek too wonderfully oafish to realize he'd never make the big score. And the lovely Jennifer . . ."

"Loni Anderson!" Ted ejaculated.

"I'd love to squeeze her Dynel!"

"That's my little Teddy bear," murmured Ted's wife Georgette in fond exasperation.

What these shows told you," Murray concluded, "was that being on top of the career heap wasn't as important as being with people you liked, who kept you amused and alive through the long day—and, if you needed them, through a longer night."

"Hot spit, Murray, that was eloquent," Ted said. "Why couldn't you have written like that for me when I was the best darn anchorman in the Twin Cities?"

"Because, Ted, the best darn anchorman in the Twin Cities couldn't have spelled WKRP, much less pronounced it."

Sue Ann shook her flossy head. "You boyscancarpallyouwant," she said. "Give me the real men of Barney Miller. I just love their adorable little Greenwich Village precinct station, where every cop is strong and sympathetic, and every criminal is some species of Jewish Munchkin. And Captain Miller—Hal Linden!" She gave a Wife-of-Bath chortle. "Who wouldn't want to be arrested by him! You know, after WJM gave me my freedom, I actually applied for a job as a policewoman on Barney Miller." Her porcelain face cracked for a moment. "But they said the rough language would have been too upsetting."

"Oh, Sue Ann," Murray drawled, "I'm sure they would have got used to it."

Sue Ann stood behind her old adversary, massaging his neck. "Dear sweet witty Murray," she intoned. "Once the prince of the newsroom, now captain of the Love Boat. Tell me, how do you remove the barnacles from your scalp?"

"I like Mork," Georgette said in her wee airy voice. "I like how it's a children's show that every five-year-old can get a cute little giggle out of, but it's also a show for the most intelligent adult because Robin Williams runs a mile a minute making a pretzel out of his body and his voice and his mind with jokes about old movies and the latest fads, and how Mindy—Pam Dawber—is the kind of wife I'd like to be to Ted." She drew a breath. "And that's why I like Mork."

"But, honey," Ted whined, "you mean you prefer that spaced-out outer spacer to my own new series, Too Close for Comfort, where I get to be outsmarted by my tank-topped daughters and fall over backwards at least three times an episode?" His voice dropped an oratorical octave: "It all started in the five-watt brain of a comedy writer in Fresno, California. . ."

"Shut up, Ted," Lou growled. "You guys are sittin' here bellyachin' that a few TV shows, written and performed by a few good people, are going off the air. Well, what about me? I was canceled too, y'know. And I'm still Lou Grant."

Oh, Mr. Grant," keened Mary. "We all felt so bad about you that we didn't want to say anything. I mean, maybe your show wasn't, strictly speaking, a comedy. And maybe it sometimes bit off issues bigger than it could chew. And maybe it was a little self-righteously liberal. And maybe. . ."

Lou interrupted: "Is there a 'but' coming in here somewhere, Mary?"

Yes, Mr. Grant," Mary replied. "But . . . Lou Grant created rounded characters who were able to develop in their own stubborn ways. It allowed you and Rossi and Billie and Charlie and Art to grow, to shrug off shtik, to hone your rough edges, to give the viewer an idea of hard-working professionals who could still find all the time in the world for one another. You did something important, Lou Grant. Something to be proud of." She kissed him.

"Mary, this is a very touching moment," Lou said. "I can't wait for it to end."

It ended, as it always did in the WJM newsroom. The gang gathered to sing a last chorus of "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," Mary turned out the lights. And everyone went home to watch M*A*S*H. —By Richard Corliss

Here is Gordon Jump's Obituary

Gordon Jump of 'WKRP' and Maytag ad fame dies at 71

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Gordon Jump, who played a befuddled radio station manager on the sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati and made his mark in commercials as the lonely Maytag repairman, died Monday. He was 71.

Jump suffered from a condition called pulmonary fibrosis, said his cousin, Katherine Jump Wagner. The illness involves scarring of the air sacs of the lungs, leading to heart or respiratory failure.

Wagner of Arcanum, Ohio, said she learned of her cousin's death from her father, also named Gordon Jump. Her cousin was under hospice care and is believed to have died at his home in Coto de Caza, she said.

The upscale community is southeast of Los Angeles in Orange County.

Jump portrayed the Maytag repairman "Ol' Lonely," a well-recognized advertising symbol, from 1989 until he retired from the role in July and actor Hardy Rawls took over.

From 1967-88, Jesse White played the repairman who never gets a service call because of Maytag's reliability. White died in 1997 at age 79.

"Gordon was an incredibly talented actor and a remarkable human being," said Ralph Hake, chairman and chief executive officer of Maytag Corp. "It was natural for him to project an image of warmth, caring, dependability, respect and humor, because that's exactly the kind of person he was. ... We will miss him dearly."

Jump came to appreciate the attention he got for the ad campaign and the steady work it provided, Wagner said. But his heart was elsewhere professionally.

"What he loved more than anything was doing theater. He was a marvelous actor," she said, recalling a visit to Florida to watch him perform in Norman, Is That You?

Jump played Arthur Carlson in WKRP in Cincinnati, which aired on CBS from 1978-82 and featured Gary Sandy, Loni Anderson, Tim Reid and Howard Hesseman as the ragtag station's crew.

A native of Dayton, Ohio, Jump began his career working at radio and TV stations in the Midwest. He worked behind the microphone and the camera, including jobs as a producer for Kansas and Ohio stations.

He began his Hollywood career after moving to Los Angeles in 1963, appearing on series including Daniel Boone,Get Smart and The Partridge Family.

His dramatic roles included a part in the TV movie Ruby and Oswald, about the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, and Conquest of the Planet of the Apes.

Jump is survived by his wife, Betty; daughters, Cindy, Kiva, Maggi Jo and Laura and one son, Chris, Maytag said in a statement. He also had a brother, Wagner said.

Funeral services were pending Monday.

For more on WKRP in Cincinnati go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/WKRP_in_Cincinnati

For a Review of WKRP in Cinncinati go to http://www.televisionheaven.co.uk/wkrp.htm