Both represented characters who were stereotypical of their television times — the doting, devoted housewife and the insightful but lovably stern father. Both symbolized elements of a stereotypical family norm that neither existed in the 1950s nor is pervasive today. And though the roles were not meant to be permanent, the impact of June Cleaver and Howard Cunningham continue to impress decades later.
I arrived on the world scene a little past the point of understanding or appreciating who June Cleaver was. Howard Cunningham, however, was central to my life in the 1970s because "Happy Days" dominated the Nielsen ratings about the time TV turned for me from being noisy living room furniture into societal touchstone. My friends talked about the show the mornings after each episode aired, their friends talked about the show, and over time we began dressing like the characters at special school events and parties. In sixth grade, I did a long project with written report, photos and a slide show of the 1950s' impact on the 1970s, inspired no doubt on the impression "Happy Days" left on me.
It was during this time, while conducting interviews for the project, that I learned about June Cleaver, the "Leave It to Beaver" craze and how the show seemed to make a cultural impact on people similar to what "Happy Days" did on me and my generation. And what I came away with from those interviews was this: TV alternately unifies and divides us. It can show us the faith, hope and compassion of humanity through worldly characters such as June Cleaver and Howard Cunningham while portraying an ideal of life we can't hope to emulate. Life is life and Hollywood is Hollywood, and though Hollywood may imitate life the reverse cannot be said with any certainty.
My grade-school friends who watched "Happy Days" — those in particular who came from broken homes — on occasion wished aloud they had dads just like Howard Cunningham, a guy who seemed to trust that his children would learn valuable lessons from their mistakes, and when they didn't would ride to their rescue dispensing the kind of earthy wisdom they didn't expect him to have. They believed in him, because he believed in them.
How many children of the '70s, or today, can say that or would admit it about their own parents?
That's why for me and my generation, Tom Bosley's role as Howard Cunningham — or "Mr. C," as The Fonz called him — remains as rich and relevant now as 35 years ago. Many of us still wish, deep down, we had a dad just like him and wonder, as parents, if we'll be anything approaching him.
That's why Tom Bosley may be gone, but Howard Cunningham lives on.
