A show that let teenagers have some silly fun
In this series we look back at our first pop-culture loves. Patty Duke had already won an Oscar at 16 — the youngest to do so at the time — when her talents were put to use in the teencentric Patty Duke Show, which ran from 1963 through 1966.
The premise was simple: American Patty has an identical British cousin, Cathy, who comes to live with her in New York. They were polar opposites in tastes and attitudes but become close friends, too.
Fun-loving Patty had “only seen the sights a girl can see from Brooklyn Heights” while the cultured Cathy “had lived most everywhere from Zanzibar to Berkeley Square.”
The show’s writers created hilariously over-the-top back stories to illustrate their differences, with Cathy apparently liking “the Minuet, the Ballet Russes and Crêpes Suzette” and Patty being such an everyday girl “a hotdog made her lose control.”
As an adolescent living in rural Ontario, New York didn’t seem so ordinary to me and the clothes were spectacular: Peter Pan collars, matching sweater sets, hair bands, cheerleader outfits with pompoms. Hairdos (courtesy of shampoo company Breck) changed regularly, although Cathy’s was always a little more demure (unless she was going out somewhere in a ball gown). I lusted after their wardrobes and hoped my teenage problems would be as silly as theirs.
Cathy needs to be taught how to dance to rock ’n’ roll. Patty doesn’t want a flu shot because she’s going to be in a dance contest.
Frequently, impulsive Patty got into trouble and mature Cathy figured a way out of the problem. In one episode, where the star basketball player had to get a B on an exam to be able to play in the big game, Cathy taped the lessons, which “Stretch” listened to in his sleep. He passed only to succumb to a case of the measles.
The cousins also used to change identity for various reasons, which allowed Duke to play Patty faking it as Cathy, which was different than Patty in the role of Cathy. No wonder one of the show’s catch lines is “You can lose your mind, when cousins are two of a kind.”
There was a lot of physical humour with Patty turning cartwheels, tripping up stairs, fake fainting, doing double takes and getting a black eye in a dance floor melee.
Looking at the show now, I am struck by how it looked at the world from a teenager’s point of view. Patty refers to school as “prison,” is boycrazy and not a very good student. She’s allowed to be silly and lighthearted and forgetful. She’s irritated by her younger brother, Ross, a little know-it-all.
A stream of teen heartthrobs runs through the series with Troy Donahue portraying a young doctor taking Patty’s tonsils out. Helpful mom buys Patty beautiful lingerie for the hospital stay (as if ). Frankie Avalon and others would be the object of Patty’s unrequited affection, but she always dated age-appropriate, slightly geeky guys.
There’s really nothing in this show for an adult audience, which is one of the reasons I loved it so much. The ’60s were an era of quirky family shows from I Dream of Jeannie (sexy genie in a bottle grants wishes to her master) to Mister Ed (a talking horse) to Bewitched (housewife wrinkles nose to make magic). The Ed Sullivan Show, Bonanza and Get Smart were also family pleasers, but there was never any “message” to take away from The Patty Duke Show. It was just silly fun.
That Duke was a terrific actress is apparent, even if she hadn’t won an Oscar, numerous Emmys and a Tony Award.
Her autobiography, Call Me Anna, blew the lid off the carefully scripted world of the young actress who, it was later discovered, suffered from bipolar disorder. Her struggling parents handed Anna Duke off to talent managers John and Ethel Ross, who took over total control of her life and career. There was abuse, including sexual abuse, control of all of her daily actions and a name change that robbed her of her identity and caused her to miss her family terribly.
She was trained for the role of Helen Keller in the stage production of The Miracle Worker by being blindfolded. Director Arthur Penn commented that while many of the actresses auditioning appeared subdued, Duke had a spark that showed the blind and deaf Keller’s hidden intelligence. She won Tony awards for The Miracle Worker, which she first tackled at age 12, before making the movie at 16 and cementing herself as a star.
So while she was being fed uppers (to get to work) and downers (to get to sleep) she managed to create this happy teenager. The talented actress also had a hit song, “Please Don’t Just Stand There,” which she sang on popular music show Shindig. It echoes much of the mood and tone of Leslie Gore’s 1963 hit “It’s My Party.”
Later in life, Duke became an advocate for mental-health issues, was head of the Screen Actors Guild from 1985 to 1988 and continued acting, primarily on TV shows.
She died on March 29 at the age of 69 from sepsis caused by a ruptured intestine. Watching The Patty Duke Show now, I’m filled with admiration for what a survivor she was, how hard she worked and what talent she displayed.
I’m thankful I got to enjoy the silly show at a time in my life where I yearned for excitement beyond the cornfields and gravel roads of my reality.