What Happened to Family Togetherness?

Around this time last year, the frenzy over the end of “Seinfeld” had swelled to a fever pitch. People speculated wildly about how the show would end, and a daily flood of stories seemed to wonder if society--forget about network television--could survive its absence.

By contrast, no such hand-wringing has taken place regarding “Home Improvement,” the long-running ABC hit, which is entering its final few weeks of original episodes, leading up to a May 25 finale during the last week of the current rating sweeps.

That’s no surprise, really, since the program has never qualified as a media darling, despite its instant acceptance by the public. Still, “Home Improvement” represents an increasingly rare commodity: a family sitcom that plays broadly to parents and their kids, rather than catering to narrow audience niches.

Prime time once teemed with such fare. ABC historically thrived on these shows, as recently as the late 1980s drawing big crowds with comedies like “Who’s the Boss?,” “Growing Pains” and “Full House.” Even “Roseanne”--with its earthier, more realistic approach--appealed to both adults and children.

In that respect, “Home Improvement” is, as producer Matt Williams says, a dinosaur--one that differs from other modern hits like “Seinfeld,” “Friends” and “Frasier” in terms of tone.

“Seinfeld,” in particular, wallowed in a kind of nasty self-absorption--a point flatly made by its finale, which found the central quartet guilty of indifference toward the rest of humanity. Countless series have tried to emulate that attitude, which through years of cloning has devolved to the put-on “It’s all about me” veneer of CBS’ new cure for insomnia, late-night host Craig Kilborn.

Those imitators seldom succeeded, but there are still plenty of shows wallowing in neuroses and the unending quest for sex by urban singles. The sheer volume of such shows on NBC, including “Suddenly Susan,” “Caroline in the City” and the since-departed “The Naked Truth,” prompted one producer to quip that the network’s Monday lineup could be promoted as “pretty white chicks living in New York who can’t get laid.”

By contrast, relatively few programs have attempted to occupy the same creative neighborhood as “Home Improvement,” which premiered in 1991 just as another family hit, “The Cosby Show,” began its final season.

Like “Cosby,” “Home Improvement” focused on a loving couple who sparred but were clearly devoted to each other. Tim and Jill Taylor had three boys, who often found themselves caught between their father’s infatuation with power tools and their mother’s desire to instill in them some degree of culture.

One episode framed this conflict especially well. Tim, charged with squiring his son to the ballet, at the last minute landed terrific seats to a basketball game. He tried to secretly take the child to both, only to be undone when Jill noticed mustard stains her son picked up at basketball, not the ballet. Dense but always well-meaning, Tim showed his contrition by assembling a tape splicing basketball footage together with ballet leaps.

Compared to dramas of the last decade and even “very special episodes” of sitcoms, these were not exactly weighty matters. Indeed, the plots were usually no more dire than the sort of problems experienced on “Father Knows Best” decades earlier. The closing credits fed this genial atmosphere, featuring outtakes that fostered an impression the performers themselves were having a grand old time.

Fittingly, the comedy piled up People’s Choice Awards while programs delivering smaller ratings--including “Seinfeld,” which “Home Improvement” pummeled in the months they aired opposite each other in 1992--amassed more coveted industry-voted honors.

If awards generally eluded the show, its commercial achievements alone were impressive. “Home Improvement” ranked among TV’s five most-watched shows for two seasons before topping the prime-time charts in its third year. The series eliminated countless competitors, scoring a one-punch knockout of one show, a drama titled “South of Sunset,” which CBS canceled after a single telecast.

Scheduled against “Frasier” in 1994, “Home Improvement” easily out-rated the five-time Emmy winner, with the gap narrowing as ratings for the rest of ABC’s lineup gradually collapsed. This year the show moved to 8 p.m. on Tuesdays and chased another venerable NBC comedy that has won a few Emmys, “Mad About You,” out of that time slot.

Not confined to success on ABC, “Home Improvement” reruns have done well in syndication, generating more than $800 million in revenue. Nevertheless, Allen and the producers have bristled about the lack of artistic recognition, once saying the media saw the show as “this 800-pound gorilla” that beat up on critical favorites.

“Home Improvement” will inevitably be best remembered as a financial juggernaut, a moneymaking machine. Yet despite its failure to rival “Seinfeld’s” prestige, the program’s exit serves as a milestone beyond the loss of a ratings winner--one that, even in its dotage by television standards, still embodies the sort of popular attraction the networks desperately need.

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Although the formula didn’t appear especially complex, neither ABC nor the program’s creators could build on “Home’s” foundation by replicating its success. The latter struck out with “Thunder Alley” and “Soul Man,” both of which had the advantage of airing for a while in the time slot after their proven hit. One of the few shows that did draw strong ratings in that slot, “Grace Under Fire,” brought a more jaundiced eye to domestic life, focusing on a single mother struggling to raise three kids alone.

ABC did launch other popular comedies in the midst of “Home Improvement’s” reign, but most have reveled in the singles-on-the-prowl pattern established by NBC, such as “The Drew Carey Show” and “Spin City.” In fact, the decline of traditional family ABC comedies continued virtually unabated after the network’s acquisition by the Walt Disney Co., the corporate symbol of such entertainment.

The Taylors’ mantle as prime time’s foremost nuclear family (at least, in deference to “The Simpsons,” of the live-action variety) has thus passed not to an ABC series but “Everybody Loves Raymond,” a CBS comedy that also showcases how familial interaction and differences between men and women can generate big laughs.

Blame for this doesn’t fall solely on ABC. Viewing patterns have shifted, meaning the public bears some responsibility for the dwindling number of traditional family shows. With cable and Internet options steadily increasing, parents have become less likely to watch television with their kids, letting Junior tune in fare of dubious repute, such as wrestling--or blast away at video games--unchaperoned in another room.

“Home Improvement’s” run also underscores the instability plaguing the television industry, which has helped rob many executives of the patience necessary to nurture programs that don’t become immediate hits. Over the past eight years, ABC alone has experienced a ratings swoon, an identity crisis, an ownership change and a trio of management shifts.

The show endured its own problems. Jonathan Taylor Thomas, who played middle son Randy, blossomed into a teen heartthrob, launching a feature-film career with roles in “Tom and Huck,” “Man of the House” and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” The teenage star secured his release from the series last year, citing a desire to focus on academic endeavors in advance of selecting a college. He then promptly signed to star in another feature and skipped the program’s final episode.

For all the money the show made, there was also more than a little strife along the way about dividing it up. In 1993, the three boys staged a sickout, wanting bigger salaries and better perks (including, according to reports, more spacious production trailers). When Disney’s Touchstone Television threatened to recast their roles, everyone seemed to feel better rather quickly.

Disney’s acquisition of ABC created another problem, since there suddenly was no threat that the production entity would shop the series to another network. The producers filed a lawsuit accusing Disney of signing a sweetheart deal to renew the show at ABC. While the matter was recently settled, the suit created a cloud that hung over the series.

Somehow, even with these periodic distractions, “Home Improvement” has continued to prosper. Despite moving this season to 8 p.m., when fewer TV sets are in use, the program ranks 14th among all series and is averaging 15 million viewers a week, trailing only “Monday Night Football” and “The Drew Carey Show” among regular programs on ABC. “Friends” is the only other comedy scheduled at 8 p.m. to crack the Top 20.

Those results are more impressive given that the competition Tuesdays at 8 o’clock includes Fox’s “King of the Hill,” the WB’s “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and UPN’s “Moesha,” all series designed to reach teens, kids and young men who once flocked to “Home Improvement” in overwhelming numbers.

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Of course, WB and UPN didn’t exist when “Home Improvement” came on the scene, which helps explain why critics fretted a year ago whether a sensation of “Seinfeld’s” magnitude could ever be repeated. The television audience has simply become too diluted for major networks to regularly attract the mass tune-in they once did, prompting some to wonder if “Seinfeld” marked the end of the “water-cooler show”--that is, a mass viewing experience (other than sporadic events like the Super Bowl or Monica Lewinsky telling all to Barbara Walters) that people discuss with co-workers the next day.

The departure of “Home Improvement,” on the other hand, extends beyond mere mass appeal to “family values” and what parents can watch with their kids. Playing across the entire demographic spectrum, the popularity “Home Improvement” enjoyed in its heyday represents a holdover from a simpler time, an anachronism in a media environment that has us all marching to the beat of our own individual drummers, as family members sit alone in front of the multiple TV sets that inhabit most households.

Pundits can rightfully debate what is lost and gained in this transition, as technology allows for entire channels aimed at specific genders, age groups or interests. To the networks and perhaps less obviously to viewers, however, one conclusion should be unavoidable: Much as we might like to try, we can’t go “Home” again.