TALK TO ME, MR. ED, AND MAKE IT SING

I’ve been watching “Mr. Ed.”

You know, the horse that talked to Alan Young in a human voice? Remember how he would whinny and say, “Hello, I’m Mr. Ed,” and then sing his theme song, which began like this:

“A horse is a horse, of course, of course,

“And no one can talk to a horse, of course,

“That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed.”

Nice, huh? “Mr. Ed” premiered on CBS in 1961, the year Newton Minnow, then incoming chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, labeled TV “a vast wasteland.” I don’t think there was a connection.

Cable’s kid-oriented Nickelodeon network has been carrying “Mr. Ed” reruns at 11 a.m. weekdays since March, which is nice because most kids probably haven’t heard a horse talk or sing.

Those reruns must really tick off the two Ohio fundamentalist preachers who last spring claimed that the “Mr. Ed” theme song played backward referred to the devil.

I find “Mr. Ed” . . . soothing.

The other day, Mr. Ed wrote Dear Abby for advice on moving away from Wilbur--he’s the character Young played--and into a stable with other horses so he could have his own place for baching it in the fast lane. “There comes a time when a horse wants to be with a horse,” he told Wilbur.

Abby even made an appearance on that 1964 episode and inadvertently convinced Mr. Ed to relocate, much to Wilbur’s dismay.

“Don’t feel too bad,” said Mr. Ed. “I’ll write every day.”

“I’d like that, Ed,” said Wilbur, who offered to pack Mr. Ed’s belongings.

“Oh, boy,” said Mr. Ed.

Pretty funny, don’t you think? I mean a horse that talks is really funny. No? I didn’t think so either until recently.

I turned to “Mr. Ed,” finding a measure of serenity, after seeing cassettes of nearly all of the 23 network shows set to premiere in September and October. They include 11 comedies, nine of which I saw and found mostly unhumorous.

One of the least humorous was a CBS sitcom called “Better Days,” about a Beverly Hills athlete who moves in with his Brooklyn grandfather. The pilot episode tries to be funny but isn’t, and what’s more, the series this week is shooting an episode inspired by Len Bias. He was the star Maryland basketball player who died recently from taking drugs. Remember, “Better Days” is a comedy.

It had to happen sooner or later. You can stay in the TV reviewing business only so long before something snaps and the shows begin merging in your mind like runny watercolors.

In my case, I think it happened while previewing “The Ellen Burstyn Show,” one of ABC’s new comedies. My pen was poised to write, my mouth poised to laugh, yet there was nothing to write or laugh about. Or was I reviewing “ALF,” NBC’s furry English-speaking alien who takes up residence with a dopey suburban family?

For me, the call of the famous “Mr. Ed” is much stronger. Just listen to him sing:

“Go right to the source and ask a horse,

“He’ll give you the answer that you’ll endorse,

“He’s always on a steady course, talk to Mr. Ed.

“People yakety-yak a streak and waste your time of day,

“But Mr. Ed will never speak unless he has something to say.”

Old reruns are speaking to me now. I’ve been watching “Buffalo Bill” reruns too, on cable’s Arts & Entertainment network (5 p.m. Sundays). Let me tell you about “Buffalo Bill,” which ran briefly on NBC a little while back.

“All in the Family” was a TV landmark in weekly social satire. “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” for my money, laugh for laugh, was the funniest sitcom ever. “MASH” was TV’s brilliant comedy within a tragedy. “Taxi” was touchingly bittersweet. “Joe Bash”--the past summer’s fleeting ABC comedy about a bitter, cynical cop--gave new meaning to inventiveness.

Name your favorite: “The Cosby Show,” “Cheers,” “Maude,” “I Love Lucy,” “The Honeymooners,” “Barney Miller,” whatever.

“Buffalo Bill”--with Dabney Coleman as that opportunistic heel of a Buffalo talk-show host Bill Bittinger--is at or near the top of the list.

Bill used and abused people, exploiting Jo Jo, his tolerant director and lover (Joanna Cassidy); Woody, his pliant floor director (John Fiedler); Wendy, his naive assistant (Geena Davis), and Karl, his cowering station manager (Max Wright).

Creators Tom Patchett (co-creator of “ALF,” incidentally) and Jay Tarses boldly had “Buffalo Bill”--the show--always on the edge, taking chances and not always succeeding, walking a fine line each week with an anti-hero languishing in the backwaters of show business, one easier despised than liked. Great cast, writing, direction--everything.

“Buffalo Bill” combined big laughs with shades and layers that gave dimension to its characters. Despite the broadness of Bill, not everything was immediately obvious, and maybe that’s why the series never captured the ratings necessary for its survival, even on relatively patient NBC.

On Sunday, I came across a “Buffalo Bill” episode I hadn’t seen. Its howls were softened by bluesy undertones.

Bill humiliated and outraged Wendy by ridiculing an anti-toxic waste activist that she had pushed as a guest for the show. As Bill turned the interview into a burlesque at the guest’s expense, Wendy watched silently from the control room, shocked, hurt and disillusioned, her adoration of Bill turned to scorn.

Later, after something happened to again draw Wendy under Bill’s control, she and Jo Jo briefly glanced at each other, and that’s where the episode ended. It was very fast and without dialogue, a look that told everything, Bill’s current love interest Wendy and his longtime lover Jo Jo at once mutually acknowledging his inevitability and his ability to manipulate them. It was comedy . . . and it was also much more.

How sad that such flights of genius are almost as rare on TV as horses that talk.

“A horse is a horse, of course, of course,

“And this one will talk to his horse, his horse.

“You never heard of a talking horse?

“Well, listen to this--I am Mr. Ed.”