227: "Pilot"

Season One, Episode One

227 was created as a star vehicle for Marla Gibbs. She rose to fame by playing Florence, the hilarious maid on the long-running Jeffersons series. Unfortunately, Marla's 227 character, Mary Jenkins, was the opposite of hilarious. To put it kindly, Mary Jenkins was an abysmal drag. And to make matters worse, the network bigwigs created a much more vivacious counterpart that constantly stole her thunder. But we’ll get to that later.

Pull up a milk crate. The fun is about to begin!

"There's no place like home!"

Sure, the 227 theme song lyrics are based on a cliché that’s older than Regis Philbin…but who cares? It has a really good beat and you can dance to it. Plus, just look at all those flashy Washington, D.C. sights whizzing by under the credits! There's the Capitol, the incredibly phallic Washington Monument, and the hilarious inner city ghetto! YAY! Let's go there! Ghettos are fun.

It’s mid-afternoon, and Mary is outside enjoying a piping hot mug of coffee with her best girlfriend, Rose. They're both perched atop a couple of milk crates on the front stoop. Apparently, Mary and Rose have oodles of spare time on their hands. Don’t worry, ladies. Those dishes upstairs will wash themselves. Kick your feet up and relax.

Within seconds, the clucking begins:

“Girl, they haven’t picked up the garbage yet?”

“Noooooo, girl!”

We’re only eleven seconds into the first scene, and Mary is starting to bitch and moan about everything…the garbage, the neighbors, the building's superintendent. Mary is like a little razor-tongued teapot. Just look at that hand-on-hip action!

Oh, Mary. You’re not fun. Your gal-pal Rose must have the patience of Job.

A few minutes later, Jackée Harry's character Sandra makes her grand entrance from a limousine that we never actually get to see. Sandra is festooned in cheap, synthetic apparel that can still be found at places like Deb or Fashion Bug Plus. Mary openly hates Sandra for her slutty demeanor and enormous shoulder pads. And, I suspect, Marla Gibbs hates Jackée Harry for instantly surpassing her in popularity with the audience. There’s no hiding it. The scene-stealing, scenery-chewing battle is well underway. These two actresses are gnawing the set to smithereens. GAME ON, bitches!

Uh-oh. Don’t look now. Here comes yet another person for Mary to hate. Calvin has a paper bag on his head and he is chasing Mary’s daughter while claiming to be Freddy Krueger. I can’t pretend to understand the reason for the bag. Calvin just seems to be...well, a little special. Based on Mary’s reaction to him, however, he’s apparently an 80’s version of Osama bin Laden. She promptly chews him up and spits him out. Suck it, Calvin. You're not wanted here.

Now Mary is yelling at Rose for giving her daughter ice cream money.

And now Mary is yelling at the garbage man for being late.

And now Mary is yelling at the washing machine.

Mary is a drag. Bring back Jackée.

In between all the hate, Mary discovers that the superintendent of her building has unexpectedly died. And word on the street is that he forked control of the building over to cheap, taudry Sandra as payment for, ummm…how should I phrase it? Services rendered! Mary, fearing retaliation, begins searching for a new place to live.

Karma's a bitch, isn’t it Mary?

And now kids, grab your six–shooters and step right up. It’s time for a SHOWDOWN IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM! Mary and Sandra are having a good ol' fashioned girl fight. The real-life tension between the two actresses is as thick as their synthetic wigs. The harsh words are flying back and forth…betwixt and between continued over-use of the words "GIRL" and "CHILD."

Flash forward. The superintendent’s last will and testament is about to be read…in…the laundry room? I guess the superintendent didn’t get out much...or the producers were too cheap to spring for a more appropriate set. Either way, the moment we've been waiting for is at hand. The building…now...belongs…to...ROSE? According to the will, Rose gets the building because she made the best apple pie the superintendent ever tasted.

Uh, WHAT? Come again? Please tell me that’s some sort of euphemism. If not, I guess I need to call Betty Crocker and start baking. I want to own a building, too.

It’s a happy ending for all…except Sandra. But she need not worry. Mary might get to keep her apartment, but she’s about to spend the next five seasons trying to crawl out from underneath Jackée Harry's voluptuous, busty shadow.

Take that, Mary Jenkins.

That’s a wrap!