Lear’s characters were capable of disagreeing fervently, even insulting each other. In the episode in which Archie fears that a neighbor selling his house to a Black buyer (he uses a racial slur to express this) would lower property values, liberal son-in-law Michael responds with data about the positive effects of diversity on housing values, and Edith punctures Archie’s illusions that his neighborhood was still all that white anyway, the dialogue is fast and punchy, witty and a bit silly. The consequence of such disputes was always more conversation, both on the shows and in homes and offices around the country. As Lear told the Los Angeles Times in 2009, “I can’t honestly say I can see anywhere where we changed anything.… But what I have are thousands of memories of people relating to me that we made them talk. And you know, the funny thing is, people are still talking.” John Dewey could not have, and did not, theorize the maddening brilliance of democracy better. The conversation never ends. Just keep talking in a democracy, and maybe we won’t beat each other up as much. We might even figure some things out.
Ultimately, though, laughter was the point. With the war in Vietnam, the bombing of Cambodia, the collapse of the Nixon regime, protests in the streets, the slaughter of students at Kent State University, and the early roar of hyperinflation, the nation needed to laugh. Even prickly characters like George Jefferson, the Archie Bunker of the Upper East Side, showed just enough heart and humanity to be tolerated, appreciated, even loved. Being funny goes a long way toward ensuring one can continue to exist, even in a nation all too willing to exterminate many of its own citizens to maintain white, male supremacy.
Charm was the essence of Norman Lear himself. Maybe that’s why he was able to write and cast charm so effectively. His passing has generated expressions of love and respect from artists and political leaders. Those who knew him have testified to his likeability, generosity, and openness.