It's a sad day in Mayberry. Maybe some Vitajex would pep us up a bit?

As I'm guessing you know by now, Andy Griffith has died at 86. Like just about everyone else my age, I first met him in reruns of (what else?) "The Andy Griffith show, which, before the days of Nick at Nite and TV Land, aired constantly in off hours on almost every station.

Back then, I thought it was an entertaining sitcom, sure, but nothing set it apart from the rest of the reruns in the standard lineup -- "The Beverly Hillbillies," "Gilligan's Island," "Bewitched" or "I Dream of Jeannie." But watching it now, it barely looks like the same sort of program. Quiet, contemplative and still very, very funny, "The Andy Griffith Show" is almost like a series of plays, examining the characters and conflicts of a fictional -- but oddly believable -- small Southern town. There were crazy characters, sure -- Goober, Gomer, Floyd, Ernest T. Bass, the Darlings and Barney (more on him in a bit) -- but the most memorable episodes revolved around Andy, the calm, wise center of the show, and his relationship with the others, especially his son, Opie. 
Andy was wise, like I said, but he wasn't infallible. He'd make mistakes, get angry or get cocky, but then he'd admit he was wrong and do what he could to clean up the mess. I always remember the episode when Opie claimed he met a man who worked in the trees, wore a silver hat and could blow smoke out of his ears. Andy is willing to tolerate his boy's tall tales for a while, but when Opie shows up with coins and a hatchet, he demands his son tell him the truth. He even threatens to spank him unless Opie admits there is no Mr. McBeeVee, but Opie insists he exists. Andy leaves Opie's room and Barney asks if he punished Opie. Andy says no, and Barney asks if that means he believes in Mr. McBeevee. "No," Andy says, "but I do believe in Opie." Yes, it's a fictional moment on a decades-old sitcom, but that's the sort of model I hope I live up to as a father myself. (And, spoiler alert, it turns out there really was a Mr. McBeeVee. And boy, is Andy happy to see him.)

Here's the clip:


Barney Fife, of course, was the breakout character on "The Andy Griffith Show," with Don Knotts winning a whopping five Emmys for his performance. Griffith wisely saw how funny Barney could be and even more wisely conceded the spotlight to him realizing that, like other classic sitcom stars who followed (Bob Newhart, Ted Danson, Mary Tyler Moore) he was more effective -- and more funny -- reacting to Barney's shenanigans. Some of the greatest moments of "The Andy Griffith Show" were the off-the-cuff conversations they'd have about such arcane topics as stamp machines, Chinese restaurants and "brine tasters." (Here's an Onion AV Club Inventory article about those discussions.)
And, jokes aside, Andy and Barney had some memorable serious discussions, too. On at least two episodes, Barney was nervous about facing down a bigger, meaner adversary (played both times, oddly enough, by sitcom stalwart Allan Melvin), and Andy had to remind Barney that they were sworn officers of the law and deserved respect, giving Don Knotts the chance to get effectively dramatic for a change. Here's a clip from the end of "Lawman Barney":



Speaking of drama, it wasn't until years later that I saw Andy himself give one of the most blistering dramatic appearance I've seen. Before he set up shop in Mayberry, he starred in "A Face in the Crowd," a brutal 1957 fable about fame written by Budd Schulberg and directed by Elia Kazan -- and it's become one of my all-time favorite films. It co-stars Patricia Neal, Walter Matthau, Lee Remick and Tony Franciosa, but make no mistake -- this is Griffith's movie all the way. Playing Larry "Lonesome" Rhodes, a  Southern scoundrel Neal discovers nursing a hangover in a small-town drunk tank, he's a terrifying portrait of what would happen if Sheriff Andy Taylor -- wise, smooth-talking, guitar-playing Sheriff Andy Taylor -- had used his powers for evil. It's an amazing performance -- funny, scary and mesmerizing, and once you've seen it, you'll never think of Andy Griffith the same way again. Here's a taste, from the movie's memorable ad campaign for Vitajex, the speed/patent medicine that sponsors Lonesome's rise to the top:


Andy Griffith did a lot of things besides "The Andy Griffith Show" and "A Face in the Crowd," of course. He starred on "Matlock," recorded hit record albums, and lent his voice to that awful sequel to "Frosty the Snowman." He even recorded that pro-Obama spot with Ron Howard for the 2008 presidential election. (He also graduated college, something 99 percent of the people on TV and movies somehow manage not to do.)

But it's this TV show and this movie that I'll always remember him for, and I'm guessing I'll be entertained and inspired (and unnerved) by the characters of Andy Taylor and Lonesome Rhodes for a long, long time.