Murphy's Law

Eleven years after Mary Tyler Moore went off the air, a different kind of career gal showed up. Murphy Brown, it is safe to say, is the anti-Mary Richards, and Miles Silverberg is the anti-Lou Grant.

The show in and of itself is an interesting sociological study.  More political than journalistic, more preachy than perky, it was a Diane English vehicle for a largely liberal agenda set in a newsroom that riffed hard off Linda Bloodworth Thomason's Designing Women.

Murphy to Miles: I just can't help thinking about the fact that while I was getting maced at the Democratic Convention in 1968, you were wondering if you'd ever meet Adam West.

The show started with Murphy back from a stint at Betty Ford and meeting her new producer. Suddenly, Murphy is a 40-year-old woman with a 25-year-old boss. And while Miles might be a whiz kid hired to bring in younger viewers and bigger ratings, he's also fresh from work in public television, has no experience with hardbitten news types and is in no wise any sort of authority figure to Murphy. He is out of his depth and easy prey.

Murphy: Stop looking at me like that!
Miles: Like what?
Murphy: Like Bambi caught in my headlights!

Basically, Miles is one long management don't. He's hyper. He's tense. He's indecisive and lives in constant fear of being fired, and he telegraphs that across entire continents. He keeps Tums in business singlehandedly.

Miles: Yes, God forbid you focus your energy on this show. The show that made you, the show that pays you six times what I make.
Murphy: Six? I thought it was eight!

I've talked before about how to deal with being in charge when you aren't the best or most experienced candidate. Be honest, be deferential, make good decisions and then follow them through.  Of course, that's assuming you've got a confident and assertive personality, and you've got a staff composed mostly of grown-ups who keep their exasperation to themselves.

It's tougher, of course, when you aren't an assertive personality, and when you've got a Murphy Brown rock star harassing you every second because she knows that's the best way to get you to fold. But as the series progressed, Miles evolved into a competent producer and manager who -- if not capable of shutting Murphy down --  at least managed to hold his own.

Miles: A retreat? No, no, no. This is just a little perk from your network, a network who appreciates your efforts and feels there's no reason we can't relax ... and get a little work done!
Murphy: Oh, god, it's a retreat!
Miles: Look, if I'd told you, you wouldn't have come. now we're here, we're gonna do this, and that's the last I want to hear of it. 

When Miles finally left the show, he was sent out on a high note. Standing up to top management and cutting a deal for his people left him in high esteem with his staff -- and left his bosses so impressed they sent him to New York for a shot at a big time CNN-style news service.

Miles: When I first got here, I really didn't know what I was doing.
Murphy: I know.
Miles: And you let me know you knew. You could have had me fired. But you didn't. Instead you subjected me to your endless reign of terror, but you were also teaching me, and even though your lessons were sometimes difficult and occasionally gratuitously painful, I never had a better teacher... you made me what I am today.  A nervous wreck who's getting in way, way,way over his head.

I suppose the moral of the story is that every experience is a learning experience, if you can stick it out long enough. It seems unlikely Miles would have been able to stick it out with Murphy that long in real life, but this is what TV lessons are for, right?