Death Now a Prime-Time Undertaking

Ever so slowly, death has found a prominent place in prime time. Dr. Mark Greene’s passing on “ER” illustrates how the end of life has become a TV ritual along with birth, marriage and series finales.

The advertiser-driven medium used to treat death off camera, if it took up the subject at all. Danny Thomas, for instance, directed his sitcom writers to have his TV wife die during the off-season when actress Jean Hagen left “Make Room for Daddy” in 1956. He started the next season as a widower back in the dating game.

On “MASH” in 1975, the unit learned that Col. Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson) was lost when his plane crashed in the Sea of Japan.

At other times, death has been treated lightly, even flippantly. The demise of Bobby Ewing (Patrick Duffy) on “Dallas” was written off as a bad dream in 1986, and other soap operas have made expiration as easily reversible as removing stains from garments.

In a flashback episode Thursday, “ER” viewers who had watched Greene (Anthony Edwards) for eight years got to share his last days, from his leaving the Chicago emergency room to his dying with his family around him in Hawaii.

“Dr. Greene has been the center of the show for so long,” executive producer Jack Orman says. “We thought it was important to give the audience a strong goodbye, and given the fact he’s dying, there were some things he needed to get in order. He’s always been bugged by difficult relationships.”

Starting in 1994, NBC’s “ER” brought greater intensity and realism to medical issues, including death. Newer series have turned bolder and proved that the audience has a high threshold for issues once deemed too macabre.

CBS’ “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation” looks at corpses, wounds and evidence with clinical fascination as forensic investigators hunt for explanations. HBO’s “Six Feet Under,” the quirky drama of an undertaker’s family, makes death a central issue every week.

“Death has become a major part of the television narrative,” says Ron Simon, curator of television at the Museum of Television & Radio in Manhattan. “There’s so much about death being a major character in the new century. It’s not a taboo subject anymore.”

The death of a key character such as Greene carries power because of his duration on a series, says Tim Brooks, coauthor of “The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network and Cable TV Shows.” In contrast, the stabbing death of Lucy Knight (Kellie Martin) on “ER” in 2000 meant less because she wasn’t a bedrock of the show.

“Television is a very personal medium,” Brooks says. “Viewers see TV personalities as friends. It’s almost like a death in the family. Many tears are shed on both sides of the screen.”

The writers planned Greene’s departure--death by brain cancer--over two years after Edwards announced he would leave the show. Because “ER” is one of television’s highest-rated series, the writers had time to explore Greene’s progress and setbacks without fear of cancellation.

“‘ER’ shows people dealing with death on a daily basis--it’s one of the staples of the show,” Orman says. “Globally [on television], death is often used too much as a plot device, in terms of the mystery type of show. Anybody who’s actually lost a loved one, it’s a much bigger deal than it’s portrayed on television generally.”

The death of Blake on “MASH” was a huge deal that still reverberates with fans.

“You saw that death entirely through the experiences of survivors,” says Greg Limongi, director of spiritual care and bereavement services at Florida’s Hospice of Orange-Osceola. “I’ll never forget seeing Radar’s face,” a reference to the character of Radar O’Reilly (Gary Burghoff). “Sometimes you can convey more through understatement.”

The death of Chuckles the Clown, one of the most famous episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” presented a humorous side of death that the culture usually shies away from, Limongi adds.

During the first part of the show, Mary Richards castigated her newsroom colleagues for their lighthearted reactions to the ridiculous circumstances of Chuckles’ death: Dressed as a peanut at a circus parade, he was crushed by a rogue elephant. But then she laughed uncontrollably at his funeral.

“We’re raised to believe death is only serious and somber,” Limongi says. “Humor is one of the most powerful releases. You’re sharing something so emotional. At a hospice, we laugh at things others wouldn’t. It’s not being irreverent.”

Deaths in the television family can take many forms. Characters can expire because their actors have died: Nicholas “Coach” Colasanto on “Cheers” and Michael Conrad, who played Sgt. Phil Esterhaus on “Hill Street Blues.”

Or death can open storytelling possibilities. A stroke killed Edith Bunker (Jean Stapleton) on “Archie Bunker’s Place” so that spouse Archie (Carroll O’Connor) could start dating.

Other deaths loom large because of their shock value. “L.A. Law” fans will always remember the plunge of Rosalind Shays (Diana Muldaur) down an elevator shaft.

It’s harder to surprise the audience these days because entertainment journalists closely monitor actors’ career changes and series’ plot twists.

And promo-happy networks want to alert viewers because death can be good business. “An ‘ER’ to cherish,” an oft-repeated NBC spot called Thursday’s episode.

In the previous week’s episode, which placed No. 1 in the ratings, Dr. John Carter (Noah Wyle) read a letter announcing Greene’s death. The episode was designed to demonstrate how “ER” will go on and to signal Carter’s emergence as the show’s central figure.

“With Dr. Greene being the moral center of the show, he seemed difficult to replace with someone from the outside,” producer Orman says. “Carter is at the point where Greene was in the pilot. We always thought of Carter becoming Greene, taking on his role and making it his own, being a leader.”

But whether an actor’s choice, a plot development or a ratings lure, television death has relevance and resonance as never before.

“There’s a new honesty in looking at the complexity of death and our emotions that don’t fit any stereotypes,” says Limongi of Hospice of Orange-Osceola.

“We are most affected by what is most intimate to us,” he says. “The reading of the letter [about Greene’s death] makes it personal. It doesn’t try to make it global. It makes it specific. Then that becomes universal.”

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Hal Boedeker is television critic at the Orlando Sentinel, a Tribune company.