Another in an occasional series on things that never fail to crack me up, for reasons I can never fully explain
Last week, I found myself in one of those moments when you just need a little comic relief.
Whenever this happens, I mentally auto-scroll through the cobwebs of my mind. I try to recall something -anything- that will get my jaw to unclench, remind my lungs how proper breathing works, and coax my blood pressure to stop trying to set a new personal best.
But enough about that little problem on Thursday at the tolls on the Jersey Turnpike…
This particular time, my mental randomizer landed on an obscure reference. One that I love to dig up on occasion, but hadn’t been fetched from my personal archives in a while.
And I couldn’t wait to explain it to you all. I was so excited, I started practicing while driving.
“So, there’s this forgotten TV sitcom from 1981.”
“It was a western. But not a slapstick thing, more like a Newhart, ensemble-style comedy…
“And one of the main characters was this really funny actor named Leonard Frey…”
“… who plays this scheming villain named Parker Tillman, who wants to have this new sheriff guy Sam Best killed, and…”
That’s when I realized: I’m probably going to get blank stares with this one.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that virtually nobody remembers this program. But I’m here to serve, and I’ll give it a shot:
Best of the West isn’t just obscure. It’s the kind of show even nostalgia has forgotten.
You’ll never see it on any of the usual lists of 80’s TV reminiscence.
It’s a show buried in television history, remembered today only by the few of us who happened to catch it when it aired Thursday nights on ABC, forty-three years ago.
None of the actors ever came anywhere near breaking the fourth wall, or engaging in anything close to camera-winking. Every episode’s plot was well-constructed.
Like any top-tier comedy, when it came to being funny, Best Of The West was dead serious.
For years, I’ve stood on this hill. Pretty much alone. It’s a very funny show.
But I’m the only person who seems to remember it. So let’s provide a little backstory:
Best of the West was what happened when funny people tried a live Western. It stayed funny.
Created by Earl Pomerantz, whose credits included The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Taxi, the series brought a sharp comic sensibility to the Western genre.
Like a network-friendly Blazing Saddles, Best Of The West balanced smart writing with a clear affection for its source material.
In just a single 22-episode season, guest stars like Andy Griffith, Al Lewis, Betty White, Richard Moll, Dixie Carter and more would turn up in an episode, and fit in seamlessly with the series regulars:
Joel Higgins:
- Best known at the time for his Broadway work in Shenandoah and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, before transitioning to TV.
He brought musical theater gravitas to the character of city slicker-turned unlikely frontier marshal Sam Best.
Carlene Watkins:
- Carlene worked alongside Bob Newhart and Mary Tyler Moore in their later sitcoms, and had film roles in Being There and Reality Bites.
Her role as the Southern‑belle wife Elvira Best provided a sharp-witted counterpoint to Joel Higgins’s Brooklyn-born Marshal Sam Best, grounding the show’s comedic chaos with charm and poise
The supporting characters often got the biggest laughs:
Meeno Peluce as young son Daniel Best, Tom Ewell as the town doctor, and Valri Bromfield as a rough-and-tumble frontier woman were perfect in their roles.
As was the gifted actor Tracey Walter as Frog Rothchild Jr., a dim-witted saloon denizen and sometime-henchman.
But perhaps the most inspired casting was Leonard Frey as Parker Tillman.
A scheming saloon boss who, let’s just say, took the role in a direction rarely seen in Westerns – or anywhere else.
Fresh off an Oscar nomination for Fiddler on the Roof, he portrayed the town villain with a certain fastidiousness that you wouldn’t expect in a saloon boss.
Recognized for his serious stage and film work, Frey had a flair for scene-stealing roles that brought theatrical polish to even the broadest comedy.
Though largely forgotten, I can still recall Parker Tillman’s little three-word reaction to the climactic saloon gunfight between Marshal Sam Best and the Calico Kid.
It’s a funny scene, and one my favorite and purest examples of comedic timing ever captured in a multi-cam TV pilot. The scene features another notable BOTW guest star:
Already a smash standout from Taxi, Christopher Lloyd was building a reputation for playing eccentric characters with explosive intensity.
He portrayed a hired gunslinger named The Calico Kid with perfect cadence.
And: with just a dash of Reverend Jim from Taxi for comedic seasoning.
The scene: A terrified Sam Best unwillingly faces off against the Calico Kid in the town saloon.
It’s a classic western showdown: hands hovering over holsters, tension building… the whole routine.
Parker Tillman watches from the sidelines, plotting how to profit when Sam Best is gone.
It doesn’t go according to plan. Tillman surveys the scene and delivers his assessment. And that’s when, with pro-level precision, Leonard Frey hits his mark.
So: What’s So Funny About It?
When reading the script, the actors must have been puzzled: the words could barely be considered a line, let alone a proper coda to the bit. It shouldn’t be so funny.
But I think I’ve finally figured it out. It’s just one of those times when something doesn’t look great on paper.
But in the moment, in the hands of an excellent actor? It becomes pitch-perfect. The sum being wildly greater than the parts.
Frey beautify personifies murderous villainy. As a perturbed middle manager.
By the reaction from the live studio audience, I think that they agreed.
Best of The West lasted one season and disappeared into the video ether.
Leonard Frey died in 1988:
Taking with him the knowledge of how to conjure such little bits of comedy alchemy.
Joel Higgins moved on to become Ricky Schroder’s TV dad on a sitcom called Silver Spoons.
Christopher Lloyd became the world’s most famous DeLorean owner.
And has a permanent place in popular television and movie history.
No streaming service carries Best Of The West. No cable network airs reruns. Even the series DVD is long out of print.
But Parker Tillman’s three-word reaction proves that sometimes it takes a classically trained actor, a forgotten sitcom, and the perfect alignment of circumstances to create a memorable and funny moment.
As we all know, comedy is subjective. But this kills me. See if you agree:
If you liked that clip, enjoy this full S1E1 episode of ‘Best Of The West:‘
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I have only the vaguest memory of seeing commercials for BOTW, but never actually saw it. Guess I’ll git a sarsaparilla and watch an episode.
I vaguely remember the name of that show but that’s it … In 1981, I was a college freshman with no TV in my dorm room so I wouldn’t have seen it.
Frey’s Oscar nom came for “Fiddler on the Roof,” not “The Boys in the Band,” though. (I would have been shocked to think the latter movie would secure an Oscar nomination in 1970.)
Stay cool! (Easier said than done this week.)
We strive for accuracy. I appreciate the fact check – corrected.
Frey also shined on The Mary Tyler Moore Show (yes, the one that Pomerantz wrote for before creating Best of the West) as the sole student in Ted Baxter’s Famous Broadcasting School in the 1975 episode of the same name. One of the series’ best, and he shone there too.
I got a DVD collection of Best of the West from Amazon when I researched my book about Betty White’s TV career. She came to town as Tom Ewell’s mail order bride that didn’t want him to know about her past as a prostitute. Pretty funny episode and great work by all involved there.
I think this show was hampered by the fact that ABC in 1981 wasn’t quite sure how to promote it when its comedy chops at the time were more like Too Close for Comfort (ugh), so it died an unfortunate death after one season.