🌇 Sesame Street: The Trojan Horse Of TV | 20
Once upon a time, American kids had a problem—OK, two. They were watching way, WAY too much TV and they were falling way, way behind in school. But then a trailblazing producer and her psychologist friend asked a bold question: What if we used the first problem to solve the second? The result: Sesame Street, home of Big Bird, Cookie Monster, Bert & Ernie, and a social-media superstar named Elmo. Since Sesame Street’s debut in 1969—the same year as the moon landing!—the show’s helped educate more than 150 million kids in 70 different languages while breaking racial barriers along the way. It’s also taught us the meaning of friendship, the value of neighbors, and the joy of a good rubber ducky. And it was only possible thanks to audacious creators, educators, and one shaggy-looking puppeteer named James Maury Henson (but you can call him Jim). Learn about Kermit The Frog’s commercial past, why the only bets worth making are contrarian ones, and why Sesame Street is the best idea yet.
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Nick, as you know, I decided to go to Paris this summer.
Wee wee.
Not just with Alex, we brought both boys too.
False move, we should point out these boys are under four years old.
And we had four seats next to each other in the middle of the huge airplane.
And everyone loved you on that airplane, didn't they?
Well,
you know, we whipped out the nuclear option.
iPads.
Yeah, the cheapest babysitter there is.
We don't love pulling out the iPad.
I just got to do it.
But the worry is, is that going to make them hooked on the iPad?
It's like on the one hand, the iPad deserves the Nobel Peace Prize for kids.
On the other hand, it's completely destroyed their brains.
I try to find like educational content that will keep them occupied on the screen.
Right, right.
Is Baby Shark really going to teach them quantum physics?
I don't know.
It's worth a shot, honey.
Now, Nick, this feels like a modern problem.
It does.
but it actually goes way back.
Before TikTok, before smartphones, all the way back to the earliest days of television, every parent has been dealing with this screen dilemma.
As long as there have been screens, there have been kids trying to watch things on those screens.
But get this: in the 1960s, one woman decided to harness children's fascination with screens and use it for something great.
She wasn't a teacher and she wasn't a parent.
She was a TV producer, and her creation paved the way for the golden age of screen time that you can feel good about.
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?
Sesame Street taught us to read, to count, to process motions, and to make friends with a guy who lives in a trash can.
Burt and Ernie showed us what lifelong friendship is about.
They're the original co-host.
And Grover taught us that being a waiter is harder than it looks.
Sesame Street has been on the air since 1969, the same year we landed on the moon, Jack.
That makes Sesame Street the longest-running children's TV show in U.S.
history.
The Simpsons, Sesame Street beat them by 23 years.
Sorry, Marge.
And since Sesame Street launched, it has helped educate more than 150 million children across 70 different languages in more than 150 countries.
Jack, can you sprinkle on some more numerical context for us, please?
Well, add in the 300 billion parents who are grateful that their kid had Sesame Street.
And that means this show has impacted 450 million people.
That's right, the number of the day is 450 million.
This show, it broke barriers with a diverse cast and black actors in leading roles, which actually got the show banned in Mississippi in the 70s, which we'll talk about.
Sesame Street also brought in A-list guest stars from James Earl Jones and Stevie Wonder to Carrie Underwood and Julia Roberts.
But honestly, the real stars of Sesame Street?
Muppets.
These fuzzy, lovable, and totally alive-seeming puppets were created by the great Jim Henson and his workshop.
We're talking Big Bird, Mr.
Snuffalupagus, Oscar the Grouch, and the ultimate celebrity toddlers everywhere, including my son Brooks, Elmo.
I can't wait for takeaway on this story, John.
I can't wait for takeaway on this story, Nick.
Me neither, Elmo.
Because you led Sesame Street to a mid-90s bounce back that also made toy history.
Tickle me Elmo is one of the best-selling toys of all time, with a chunk of sales going back to Sesame Workshop as licensing revenue.
As a non-profit, Sesame's mission is not to keep that cash, but to reinvest it.
And its mission to teach kids has inspired other shows to do the same.
That's right, without Sesame Street, there'd be no Doc Nick Stuffins, no Door of the Explorer, and no Bluey.
This is the story of how an unexpected trio of a TV producer, a psychologist, and a puppeteer built the ultimate Trojan horse learning product, bringing early childhood education to the masses in the form of an entertaining kid show.
Plus, we've got some intel on Cookie Monster's origin story that none of your playdates knew about.
So, Jack, can you give me a countdown to start the episode?
One,
two,
three!
That's a count up.
This episode, it's brought to you by the letter F for Fantastic.
Here's why Sesame Street is the best idea yet.
From Wonder and T-Boy, I'm Nick Martell, and I'm Jack Kravici Kramer.
And this is the best idea yet: the untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with and the bold risk-takers who brought them to life.
I got that feeling again.
It's your man, Nick Cannon.
I'm here to bring you my new podcast, Nick Cannon at Night.
Every week, I'm bringing out some of my celebrity friends and the best experts in the business to answer your most intimate relationship questions.
So don't be shy.
Join the conversation and head over to YouTube to watch Nick Cannon at night or subscribe on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcast.
It's a gray winter day in Manhattan, 1966.
The snow has turned to black slush.
The hot dog vendors, they're wearing mittens.
But inside Joan Gans Cooney's chic apartment a block from Gramercy Park, a cozy dinner party is keeping her guests toasty warm.
This quiet, tree-lined neighborhood, it's a far cry from the working-class brownstones and tenements that will one day surround 123 Sesame Street.
But don't let the doorman or the French cooking fool you.
Joan and her husband are outspoken advocates for the poor.
Joan is a documentary TV producer for New York Public Television.
She makes documentaries that make a difference, including one about a preschool in Harlem trying to close the achievement gap between black students and their white counterparts.
1966 is three years since MLK's I Have a Dream speech.
It's two years since the Civil Rights Act, and it's one year since President Lyndon Johnson created Head Start, a program designed to help preschool kids from low-income families.
So there's a lot going on for civil rights right now, but there's still a huge gap between the haves and the have-nots that often breaks along racial lines.
Because of unequal access to pre-K programs and other systemic inequalities, black first graders are scoring lower on tests than 85% of their white counterparts.
And this puts them about a grade level behind by the age of six.
So, Joan and her colleagues, they're constantly talking about this problem.
In fact, one of tonight's dinner party guests is an expert on the subject.
His name is Lloyd Morissette.
He's a mild-mannered child psychologist and vice president of the Carnegie Corporation.
Carnegie Corporation is a philanthropic foundation dedicated to learning.
And Carnegie has been giving out hundreds of thousands in grant money to elementary schools.
And it's still one of the largest education nonprofits in the country.
Now, Jack, this is promising work, but honestly, each of their grants, it's only reaching a few hundred kids at most.
Their efforts aren't scaling.
Meanwhile, there is something that has scaled and it's reaching millions of American children every day.
You know what I'm thinking?
Yeah, it's television.
In 1966, more U.S.
households have TVs than bathtubs.
More daily newspapers.
Okay.
There's more families with TVs than with telephones.
Kids, they're watching on average 55 hours of TV a week.
They're learning all the commercial jingles.
They're driving their parents crazy.
Soccer boppers, goldfish, you name it.
They got it memorized.
When I was eight, I got banned from singing the goldfish commercial in the house.
So at this dinner party, Joan is refilling everyone's Chardonnay while her husband is clearing the beef bourguignon when Lloyd Morissette begins telling a story about his three-year-old daughter named Sarah.
Early one morning, before anyone else was up in the house, Lloyd actually found her in the living room watching the test pattern on the TV.
It's like the test signal that comes before the show starts.
She would watch literally nothing on TV rather than read or play.
And that's concerning.
It was concerning.
Now, as Lloyd sees it, there are two seemingly distinct problems going on.
First, kids from low-income families aren't getting access to preschool.
And second, all kids are addicted to TV.
So Lloyd asked the question to the dinner table.
What if there was a way to take the second problem and make it a solution?
to the first problem.
Interesting, Lloyd.
Go on.
What if we can solve inequality in schooling through television?
And then Lloyd turns to his host, Joan, and he asks her a question that's going to change both of their lives and the lives of millions of future viewers like you.
Do you think television can be used to teach young children?
The question hangs in the air.
All eyes are on Joan.
The table is silent.
The Chardonnay is getting warm.
And she answers,
I don't know, but I'd like to talk about it, Lloyd.
They don't know it yet, but they will keep talking about it for the next 50 years.
So, Joan and Lloyd, they are fired up and ready to go.
But they're in the nonprofit world.
So, instead of funding rounds and pitching VCs with PowerPoint decks and one-pagers, their next step is two years of deep research and painstaking grant applications.
And in 1968, Joan and Lloyd create the Children's Television Workshop, a new production company for their new show.
Time to get out the metaphorical fingerpaints and start planning.
This new new show will be an hour long.
It will air weekdays on public television stations nationwide.
Their target audience will be kids aged three to five, spanning all socioeconomic backgrounds, including kids in low-income homes.
Because kids' attention spans are pretty short, they model this TV program on popular magazines.
Instead of one long plot arc like you typically watch on TV, there will be many short segments from puppetry and animation to short films and songs.
This kind of show has never been tried before.
Most kids' programming is either vapid and silly like howdy duty or so boring that you'd rather help your parents fold laundry while eating broccoli.
This is the era before Legends of the Hidden Temple.
They're trying to give children who don't have access to pre-K education pre-K education for free on TV.
They want to make something fun to watch, but with a hidden curriculum of literacy, early math, and social skills like tolerance and understanding.
It's kind of like frosted mini wheats.
Healthy whole wheat on one side, but frosted deliciousness for the kid in you on the other side exactly joan hires two groups of experts to pull this off on the one hand she's got the academics to create the show's learning goals that's the whole wheat side and she's got the seasoned tv pros who can bring the curriculum to life that's the frosted side but uh jack there is one problem
those two groups i just mentioned they don't get along the scholars are all about curriculum They're thinking, who cares about writing jokes and punchlines?
We're trying to teach children how to count.
But on the other hand, the creatives creatives are thinking, hey, the slapstick jokes, that's how you keep the kids watching with those short attention spans.
So Joe needs to find a way to unify these two sides for the show to work.
And that's when we get to meet a man who's about to change the entire conversation.
His name is James Maury Henson, but you know what?
You can just call him Jim.
Born in Mississippi, raised in Maryland, Jim Henson grew up obsessed with television, but he wasn't a great singer.
He couldn't dance, and he had acne scars he was sensitive about.
So as a teenager, he taught himself puppeteering puppeteering as a way to get on TV.
He then began inventing dozens of characters out of felt and fluff, and he called them a mashup of marionette and puppet.
He called them Muppets.
In 1955, while in college, Jim starts making puppets.
Muppets, Muppets.
Sorry.
Yeah, you got it.
Jim starts making Muppet content for local TV, performing short sketches with characters that include a weird reptilian character with round feet known as Kermit.
Now, before you fact-check us, zoologists, Kermit doesn't officially become an amphibian until a few years later.
At this point, he's a cold-blooded reptile.
And before long, Jim Henson's Muppets are making national appearances on the Today Show and the Ed Sullivan Show.
Kermit is a rising star.
But he's got to make money on these puppets, man.
How's he pulling that off?
Jim takes his talents B2B, creating Muppets for advertising campaigns.
He makes a dog named Rolf, who sells Purina dog food.
Adorable.
And a certain monster of cookies
to sell snacks for general foods.
He's gonna wreck some cookie crisps.
So Jim Henson's a big deal even before he arrives on Tesame Street.
And there are a couple reasons why these Muppets get so popular.
Before Jim, puppeteers on TV would always be visible on camera.
Ventriloquist dummies, they were shown sitting on the performer's lap.
You saw the human performer.
But on Jim Henson productions, the cameras zoom in to show just the Muppets themselves.
So the viewer automatically thinks of the Muppets as real characters.
And another reason people love the Muppets, it's mischief.
I didn't know this, but Jim Henson is often thought of as this cuddly guy who loves kids, but he's actually got a wicked sense of humor.
Get this, he makes sketches where one Muppet eats another Muppet.
Panamuppization, or one where one of them explodes.
These Muppets are rule breakers.
Rated R.
And nothing makes little kids laugh like a character who's being naughty.
But the Muppets can also be caring and vulnerable, which kids also love.
The contrast of sweetness and rule breaking, it's exactly what Joe needs on her creative team.
Maybe, just maybe, Jim can unite the professors and the artists who are working on this groundbreaking project, but just haven't been able to get along.
So Jim is invited to a seminar that Joan is hosting at the Waldorf Hotel.
But Joan has no idea what Jim looks like.
And she sees this tall, stringy guy in leather with long hair and like a hippie beard.
He kind of looks like a war protester.
Should we call security?
Joan is a little concerned about the situation.
Like, who is this dude?
That's no radical.
That's Jim Henson.
So Joan goes from stressed to hopeful.
This bearded, creative genius of a man might just be the key to bringing her show's academic and entertainment goals together.
So, with Jim on board, the team rallies together.
He's the uniting element that Joan needs.
Yes, we're ready to go, Jack.
Lights, curtain, I'm ready.
They actually need one more thing.
Oh, what's that?
They need a show.
Oh, that's key.
1969 is a mad flurry of production.
No more dinner parties.
Joan, Joan, she's got a show to make.
The first thing is to set the location.
And Sesame Street breaks with decades of television tradition.
They don't build some suburban paradise with big lawns.
Their setting is an urban street, a dark, worn, kind of dirty urban street based on locations in Harlem, the Bronx, and the Upper West Side.
Look, it's a weathered brownstone with a stoop that sits its center stage.
And that's where our main characters are going to hang out.
Growing up, these are the kind of brownstones I was walking by.
This was reality in New York.
And this set, it turns out to be kind of a miracle because it's relatable to city kids, of course, but it's not some scary wasteland to suburban or rural kids either.
Neighbors here talk to each other.
The sidewalk cracks?
That's the street's personality.
And the bodega owner remembers the kids' names.
Yeah, Jack, this is cheers for five-year-olds, which means that when it comes to casting the show, the showrunner has actually got a dual mission.
Hire talented, compelling actors who also reflect the diversity of the country.
There's a black couple, Susan and Gordon, who own the brownstone that's at the center of the action.
There's a young white guy, Bob, who teaches music.
And an older white guy, Mr.
Hooper, who runs the soda shop across the way.
Now, Jack, that's like half the cast.
Because remember, while the human beings are being cast, Jim Henson and his workshop are hard at work creating a new species of Muppets to inhabit this Sesame Street world.
There's Kermit, of course, who by now has graduated from generic lizard to actual frog.
And there's Rolf and the monster of cookies, who's now cookie monster.
And they've been liberated from their commercial obligations to to now perform in this TV show.
The show also gets Bert and Ernie, the ego and it pals who rent the Brownstones basement apartment.
Now, originally, the plan was to keep the Muppet segments separate from the human characters.
But Jack, when Joan and her team start screen testing some early segments for daycare audiences, they're shocked.
Because when the Muppets are on screen, the kids are totally dialed in.
They're all over it.
But when the action switches to the humans, the kids are kind of bored.
No human adult can really compete with Kermit.
Now, this may sound like bad news, but this actually shows the beauty of real-world product testing.
Feedback is a gift, and this is critical data to get before launching their show widely.
Imagine if they'd filmed a dozen episodes without having this critical insight.
So, here's what they do: Jim Henson designs two special Muppet characters who will interact with the humans.
Think of these guys like Muppet diplomats to the human realm.
The first one is a green meanie who lives in that irresistibly loud metal trash can, Oscar the Grass.
Oscar!
Go away.
Close my can, Lydia.
You're letting all the fresh air and sunlight, and boy, I hate that.
But that next character that Jim designs becomes the key to this entire format.
It's the Muppet who will become the show's tender, sensitive heart.
The Muppet who's got a soul of a child and the height of an NBA center.
The Muppet, known as Big Bird.
Big Bird is made of turkey feathers dyed a brilliant yellow and sewn upside down onto an eight-foot-tall wearable puppet.
But Jack, how do they make Big Bird come alive?
Because it's actually a feat of engineering.
The Muppeteer steps into Big Bird's giant bird legs, puts one hand into Big Bird's left wing, and operates Big Bird's head by reaching his right hand high up into the air.
And it doesn't stop there, even if he's cramping, because he then has to use his pinky finger to move the eyelids so that Big Bird can blink, show surprise, worry, sadness.
All those emotions are operated by an extended pinky finger.
It's this kind of expressive detail that makes Jim Hansen's Muppets so magical for kids.
Now, at first, Big Bird is supposed to be some kind of a bumbling doofus, a clumsy character that smacks into telephone poles and has that big oversized head that keeps bonking things.
But this does totally change when Jim Henson recruits one particular puppeteer by the name of Carol Spinney.
Muppeteer.
Muppeteer.
Carol is ex-Air Force, and he's a gentle soul that loves drawing and still feels like an overgrown kid himself.
His mom named him Carol because he was born the day after Christmas.
Carol is the reason that Big Bird evolves from clumsy clown to the sweet, naive picture of childhood innocence.
Big Bird kind of becomes the proxy for Sesame Street's core audience.
Big Bird is the six-year-old who needs help navigating the world.
Big Bird doesn't know why things are the way they are, so the humans around him have to patiently explain it to him.
What they're really patiently explaining to the kids watching the show.
Oh, and by the way, Carol also plays Oscar, so he's doing a great double act.
With Big Bird and Oscar now in the mix, Joan and her team screen some new scenes for test audiences.
The difference is night and day.
Oh, totally different.
During every segment, the kids can't take their eyes off the screen.
Muppets and humans together at last.
So Jack, add it all up.
After nearly three years of development, the idea that started in Joan Cooney's Grammarcy apartment over a bottle of Chardonnay is almost a reality.
The street looks great.
The content, top-notch.
The puppets, fantastic.
We finally have a show.
All right, lights, camera.
Wait,
There's one little thing we have to solve.
Oh, you're kidding me.
The show doesn't have a name.
It's your man, Nick Cannon, and I'm here to bring you my new podcast, Nick Cannon at Night.
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Joan Cooney, oh, she is stressed.
She feels like she's about to lose her mind.
It is May 6th, 1969.
The sets, yeah, they're built.
The shooting schedule is locked in.
The press conference announcing her unprecedented history-changing show, It's this Afternoon.
But Joan is worried about what she's going to say when people ask her what to call it.
Because this labor of love that she's been building for the past two years, alongside hundreds of staffers, they still don't have a name for it.
Inside the writer's room, one of the writers sheepishly raises her hand.
What if we make the name sound like a magic word or a passky that opens up into another realm?
Kids will like that.
Like open Sesame.
Okay, that works-ish.
I don't know.
What do we think?
Actually, the showrunner thinks that's the corniest idea he's ever had.
Yeah, we gotta workshop this thing and we don't have time to workshop this thing.
Well, outside the room, Joan is done waiting.
Oh, yeah.
She sticks her head in and says, what's it gonna be?
Finally, the showrunner says, Joan, we're gonna roll with Sesame
Street.
One of the most iconic names in TV history is created at the buzzer because they're completely out of time.
That's the power of a deadline.
You kind of got to decide and commit.
Sesame Street kicks off on PBS a few months later, sponsored by the letters W, S, and E, and the numbers two and three.
Nonprofits, they don't have commercial sponsors.
They just have alphanumerical ones.
Kermit is in the pilot episode.
So is Big Bird, Burt Nerdy, Cookie Monster, and Oscar the Grass.
Starting lineup, I like the way it looks, Jack.
Smooth.
They even get a cameo from star comedian Carol Burnett for a little celebrity Riz, a technique that Sesame Street will go back to again and again.
But it's also fun to look at who's not there.
Sesame Street launches without Grover.
He's a season two edition.
Oh, and Jack Count von Count?
You won't see him until season one,
two,
three,
four seasons.
Even Mr.
Snuffle Up, I guess, doesn't show up until 1971.
But this is the pilot, episode number one.
And as it airs, Joan Cooney and Lloyd Morissette hold their breaths.
It's become so much bigger than they ever imagined.
If it succeeds, they'll be able to reach thousands, maybe millions of children.
But if it fails, educational television might just be called impossible and kids will go back to singing jingles from beer commercials and mentos ads.
The stakes are high.
That's one of the risks that startup founders take when they're piloting a totally new concept.
Like a whole new industry that didn't exist yet.
If it fails, it can cast doubt not just on the startup that they launched, but on the entire sector.
Yeah, it's like, hey, impossible hamburgers, no pressure, but the entire plant-based industry depends on you IPOing successfully.
Nick and I call this the future fallacy, when investors will disregard a viable concept because the first try didn't work out.
And Jack, that's exactly what Joan is worried about right now.
She feels the burden that the future of children's educational programming depends on her Sesame Street hitting it out of the pot.
So Jack, after all this production, two years of work, everything set, how do they do?
Within the first few weeks, WGBH, Boston's public broadcasting network, receives more than 7,600 phone calls and 2,000 letters from parents and educators who praise the show.
Grab the rubber ducky and let's dive in.
What are they saying, Jack?
People share stories of their little kids suddenly learning to count and singing their ABCs.
According to the Educational Testing Service, Sesame Street is improving cognitive skills for underserved kids by as much as 62%.
Kids are actually learning from TV.
Jack, this is U-N-P-R-E.
It's unprecedented, baby.
Yes, it is.
TV critics, they're given glowing reviews of this whole new concept.
And so do public figures like Jesse Jackson, Orson Welles, even the President of the United States at the time, Richard Nixon.
Although that won't stop that president from later trying to cut Sesame Street's federal funding, but that's that's a story for another pod.
The show is also producing at a pace that would make Dora the Explorer blush.
Sesame Street is producing 130 episodes every 26-week season.
Sometimes they're doing five episodes a day.
And it's not just the quantity.
We got to talk about the money, Jack, because at this point, in 1970, they're spending about $28,000 per episode.
That's over $225,000 in today's money.
And it's a lot compared to your average episode of Captain Kangaroo.
Yeah, it's like Disney Channel money.
But what's the payoff for that investment?
Well, they're also reaching an estimated 7 million children five days a week year-round, including reruns.
I mean, Jack, that works out to about one penny per child.
And that is a massive bargain.
Joan Cooney and Lloyd Morissette are giddy with excitement.
This is everything they dreamed of and more.
But that dream is about to get interrupted because Sesame Street is about to get
banned.
Now, Jack, we said that Sesame Street's learning goals aren't just about letters and numbers, right?
They're also about social skills, acceptance, being a good person, and how your friends don't have to look like you or have the same color skin.
Well, the state of Mississippi, Jim Henson's birthplace, they ain't happy about that in the year 1970.
So six months into Sesame Street's run, the Mississippi State Commission for Educational Television bans the program from their public TV network because, quote, it uses a highly integrated cast of children.
They feel that their state just isn't, and another quote, ready for it.
Joan Cooney is devastated.
She calls it a tragedy, both for the white children and the black children of Mississippi.
But then Joan's assistant gives her an update that lifts her spirit back up.
Mississippi residents speak up about this.
Just like the letters of praise that flowed into that Boston TV station, suddenly letters of protest start flooding the Mississippi Education Board.
The commission members get so embarrassed, they actually reverse their decision after just 22 days.
And a few months later, the Sesame Street cast visits Mississippi's capital to do some outreach.
But Sesame Street's outreach doesn't stop there.
They continue to invite famous guests of color onto the show to talk explicitly about acceptance, like Nina Simone.
Oh, what a lovely
Jesse Jackson
Somebox
and all-star voice actor and pronouncer James Earl Jones A
B
C
The show also gets more diverse in later seasons Ironically after Mississippi banned them for too much diversity Hispanic groups protest over the show's lack of Latino representation.
So in season three, Sesame Street adds actors Emilio Delgado and Sonia Mondano to play Luis and Maria, the pair that run Sesame Street's fix-it-shop.
And in the coming years, they'll add a cast member who is deaf, Asian cast members, a Native American singer-songwriter, and a little boy with Down syndrome who changes people's assumptions about kids with learning differences.
Of all the boundary-pushing shows on TV, It's the one for little kids, Sesame Street, that is breaking the most barriers.
And being able to talk about hard things and deal with tough emotions, it's baked into Sesame Street's curriculum.
But in 1982, something happens that's going to force Team Sesame to deal with hard things, whether they like it or not.
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It's quiet on set.
The giddy, chaotic energy of a typical Sesame Street production, it feels muted.
The day's filming is almost over, but the cast has one last scene to shoot.
Inside Big Bird Suit, Carol Spinney gets ready for his big moment.
Not with gleeful anticipation, but with sadness.
The human actors take their places.
They have an important task in front of them.
They have to explain to Big Bird where Mr.
Hooper's gone.
The beloved actor Will Lee, the guy who played the shopkeeper Mr.
Hooper, he passed away in December of 1982.
So Sesame Street has a big decision to make.
What to do about Will Lee's passing.
They could write his character off the show.
Mr.
Hooper's in his 70s after all.
It's easy to imagine him retiring to the Florida Keys.
They also could pull a Dumbledore Jack and replace the deceased actor.
But something about a casting swap feels wrong.
The show exists to teach kids, right?
Maybe this moment of human sadness, something every human will go through, is actually the exact topic Sesame Street should take head-on.
The more Joan and her team think about it, the more right it seems.
Let's just tell the kids the truth.
They actually consult with child psychologists to help them craft a script that breaks the news in a gentle but clear way.
In the scene, Big Bird, who wants to be an artist, is handing out drawings he's made of all the grown-ups.
Every adult on the show is there.
Then Big Bird gets to the last drawing, the one of Mr.
Hooper, and he starts looking around, but Mr.
Hooper isn't anywhere.
Big Bird, don't you remember we told you?
Mr.
Hooper died.
He's dead.
Oh, yeah, I remember.
Well, I'll give it to him when he comes back.
Now, eventually, the adults step in, and one by one, they each gently explain what being dead really means.
And Big Bird, he just can't accept that.
Well, he's gonna come back.
Why, who's gonna take care of the store?
And who's gonna make my birds eat milkshakes and tell me stories?
The adults reassure him that David will make him milkshakes.
They'll all take turns telling him stories.
Slowly, Big Bird starts to understand, but he doesn't like it.
It won't be the same.
And everyone agrees, because it won't be the same.
The actors only shoot one take.
When Carol Spinney comes out of the bird suit, he asks for a towel because he's been crying.
And honestly, when we first saw this scene, we started crying.
Yeah.
Sesame Street decides to air the episode on Thanksgiving 1983.
And they do that so that children will be home with their parents to watch it together.
But before the big day, the team test screens the segment at a daycare.
They show it around pickup time so that the parents can catch it along with their children.
When the scene is over, parents and kids physically reach out to each other for comfort, not in a scared way, but in a reassuring way.
When the producers see that, they know they've done the right thing.
Their answer is in the embraces.
This moment foreshadows the way the Muppets and the actors who play them remember Jim Henson himself.
In 1990, a sudden illness claims Jim's life too early at the age of 53.
At Jim's Memorial, Carol Spinney as Big Bird sings Kermit's favorite song, It's Not Easy Being Green.
You can hear the emotion in his voice as he sings in character.
And amazingly, you can even see it on Big Bird's face.
Even when he's mourning his friend, Carol gives Big Bird an entire life of his own.
The show experiences deaths and cast changes, which will always happen on a show that runs for 50 plus years.
But this story isn't just about who's missing.
It's about who gets added to.
That's right, because it wouldn't be a Sesame Street episode without a character so beloved that he even gets more fan mail than Big Bird, the Muppet who actually helped save the entire show.
It's time to bring out a cuddly buddy, Elmo.
Now, Jack, put on your podcasting best because we are about to meet Sesame Street's favorite red three-year-old, Elmo.
Elmo first appeared on Sesame Street as a background Muppet in 1979.
Basically, Elmo was in a few short scenes with no lines.
But in 1984, this small red monster gets a new puppeteer named Richard, who gives him a gruff, bossy persona.
And they don't look like me.
What?
Puberty apparently hit Elmo like a ton of fluffy bricks.
But Richard, that puppeteer, he hates performing Elmo.
So one day, he's backstage in the green room.
And in a fit of frustration, Richard tosses his hated red puppet to the new guy, a young puppeteer named Kevin Clash.
He's just sitting there, he's studying a scrib, maybe he's enjoying some fruit snacks, and then this furry red thing, boom, just comes flying into his face.
Richard walks off.
He's like, see what you can do with this thing, kid, because they're about to start tapering.
So Kevin's got to wing it.
And when cameras start rolling, he lets loose with something that hadn't been tried before, with this little red Muppet.
A soft, innocent voice that we've all come to know.
Well, it's so nice to see all of you.
Oh, hi out there.
Elmo loves you.
Phew, that is more like it.
Now, ironically, that spontaneous voice choice, it actually becomes really strategic because Elmo is going to speak to the younger kids who are watching.
If Sesame Street's target demo is three to five-year-olds, Big Bird is for the older siblings.
Elmo is for the babies of the family.
Yes, Sesame Street has segmented its customers like any business would.
In fact, it's Elmo who rescues Sesame Street when their ratings and their finances take a dip.
In the 1990s, the show starts losing market share to the kids' show Disruptor of Our Youth.
You know what I'm talking about?
Barney, the big purple dino with the voice that haunts parents' dreams.
He jumped into the kids' entertainment industry out of nowhere.
Sesame Street is struggling thanks to Barney, and its nonprofit backers might have to sell to a big for-profit corporation.
Outside buyers start to circle the children's television workshop, including the Walt Disney Corporation.
But then in 1996, a seemingly disconnected event will change everything.
The comedian Rosie O'Donnell's daytime talk show starts booking a few Muppets, including Elmo, as regular guests.
In the mid-90s, daytime talk shows are at the height of their powers.
It's not just Rosie O'Donnell.
Maury wants you to know that you ain't that baby's daddy.
Oprah is giving away free cars to everyone who showed up to the studio that day.
Daytime TV, it is thriving.
And Elmo is getting guest spots on Rosie.
That is a big deal.
Then, to kick off the 1996 holiday shopping season, the toy manufacturer Tycho sends Rosie a gift.
A nice gesture for all the press she's given the little red guy and some savvy product placement.
The toy that Tycho gives Rosie is a stuffed Elmo with motion and sound tech that makes Elmo laugh when you press his belly.
It's Tickle Me Elmo.
Even if you never held one, you know exactly what we're talking about.
You either love Tickle Mielmo or he terrorizes your nightmares.
I think we need maybe we need a trigger warning before that clip.
I don't know.
Maybe we should throw that in.
When Rosie shows this doll to her audience, it kicks off one of the biggest shopping frenzies in toy history.
Before the end of Black Friday, 1996, every Tickle Miyelmo on the store shelves have sold out.
These Elmo dolls turn out to be a huge success for Sesame Street.
In the first year alone, Tickle Miyamo grosses over 30 million bucks in sales.
Licensing its IP is right out of the Disney playbook.
Classic Walt D move.
It kicks off a licensing business that today makes up 20% of Sesame Street's total revenue.
I like those numbers.
They're bringing Elmo and all the other cats to Sesame Street from the television to the toy aisle.
So it is Elmo, Elmo of all the characters who pull Sesame Street out of their mid-90s financial funk.
And with hundreds of millions of dollars in fresh licensing and toy cash, they fend off their potential buyers, Disney included.
Now, Disney does do a deal with the Muppets, which again is not the same thing as Sesame Street.
But the mouse will never catch Big Bird or the rest of Joan Cooney's creation.
Now, after this tickle me Elmo commercial moment, Sesame Street goes all in on Elmo programming.
There's Elmo's World, a segment that runs for more than 140 episodes.
And he even gets his own Elmo talk show, the not so late show.
The not so late show.
Elm's got a bedtime.
It's understandable.
And this is a little concept that Nick and I called let your winners ride.
When you have early signs that point to a top-performing product, lean in, double down, and get that product out there.
And let your winners ride.
It's Elmo's world, and honestly, we're just living in it, Jack.
Elmo goes on to inherit the big porch from Big Bird, taking on the hard subjects from homelessness to grief.
And then, Jack, remember last year, Elmo typed his famous post-pandemic tweet into Twitter?
Elmo is just checking in.
How is everybody doing?
I do remember that tweet.
221 million views of that tweet.
It actually sparked a conversation about mental health post-pandemic.
Elmo is an influencer in the most positive sense of the word.
Jack and I love doing the show because we get to go deep on the most viral products of all time.
But Jack, this is the first time we've done a TV show, and we were curious if this would work.
But by every critical metric, Sesame Street is a smash success no matter what industry lens you view it through.
Since 1969, it's won 221 Emmy Awards, 11 Grammys, and it became the first TV show to win a Kennedy Center honor.
Literally, millions of children have learned their ABCs, their 123s, their yellow, blue, and their green because of this show.
But besties, we also studied the financials.
And despite the great programming and the great numbers, the 2010s brought some challenges for the Sesame Street business model.
The rise of streaming hurts DVD sales, which were a major source of revenue for Sesame Street.
Plus, dozens of new children's shows, many of them inspired by Sesame Street, are now competing for viewers.
It's the attention economy from Peppa Pig to Thomas the Tank Engine to Bluey.
So after losing $11 million in 2014, the production company now called Sesame Workshop is in danger of shutting down.
Then Sesame Workshop makes a controversial move.
In 2015, this nonprofit partners with the very for-profit HBO, a premium channel better known for the sopranos than for singing Muppets.
And that deal gives HBO a nine-month exclusivity window for new Sesame Street episodes.
After that, they then air for free on PBS just like before.
Now, some critics and public television advocates worry that HBO might pressure Sesame Street to prioritize minutes watched instead of ABCs Learned, or that putting new shows behind a nine-month paywall will contribute to inequality.
But this move follows a long-standing strategy of Sesame Street to evolve along with families.
Remember, Sesame Street was started because kids were way into television.
So, Joan, Lloyd, and their whole team brought a pre-K curriculum into broadcast TV.
And when families turned to physical media like tapes and DVDs, you know what?
Sesame Street pivoted there too.
Now, kids are watching a lot of streaming stuff on the web and stuff on mobile devices.
So, Sesame Street adapted to be on those screens too.
They are going to where the kids are, and now it's online.
The show is even growing an international audience on Get This, WhatsApp.
Yeah, you can be DMing right now at Grower.
But Jack, I got another update for you.
In December, HBO, now called Max, announced they were ending their partnership with Sesame Street.
Season 55, that will be the last new season of Sesame Street to debut on Max.
So, as of this recording, Sesame Street is a bit of a free agent.
But Jack, it is more likely that we'll be looking at another streamer stepping in, like Amazon or Netflix.
We're thinking maybe Disney, who already owns the Muppets, Muppets, by the way.
Either way, we're hoping that Sesame Street finds a nice home to preserve its future.
Well put, Jack, because since that very first dinner party conversation back in 1966, Joan Cooney built Sesame Street into an educational powerhouse wrapped in entertainment.
A show that helps children learn to read, to count, and to understand the entire world around them.
And that mission, it is just as needed today.
Now, Jack, today's story is brought to us by the letter T for takeaway.
All right, so now that you've heard the Sesame Street story, what's your takeaway?
My takeaway is about Trojan horse products.
Some of our best products are actually disguised as something else.
Like when we hear a Trojan horse, honestly, we often associate it with like sneaking in bad things.
Yeah, you know, like causing the fall of Troy in Greek mythology, classic.
Or the fall of your computer because you clicked that phishing email that was actually a virus.
Exactly.
And for sure, yeah, sometimes they're sneaking in something bad.
But Trojan horses, they can also smuggle in goodness too, right, man?
Like with the Oregon Trail.
It's ostensibly a video game from the outside, but on the inside, it's actually an interactive history lesson.
Well, it's the same with Sesame Street, a Trojan horse product.
Jones' team smuggled in a curriculum that taught you the ABCs and 123s and a few lessons about tolerance and respect.
It was all hidden inside sketches of Muppets and Mayhem.
Some of the best products, actually, that we've ever covered are disguised as something else.
Beautifully said.
Thank you, Jack.
But, Jack, I mean, what about you, man?
What is your takeaway?
The only bets worth making are contrarian ones.
In other words, being brave can be rewarded in the marketplace.
When Sesame Street chose to deal with the death of Mr.
Hooper, they won the hearts of parents and kids at a crucial moment for the show.
Sesame Street made a contrarian bet that parents would appreciate the show's help discussing a hard subject with their children.
And that bet worked.
Oh, it totally worked.
I mean, it won't always work.
That's why there are bets.
But you'll never get ahead by making the same bet as everyone else.
True.
The only bets worth making are contrarian ones.
Now, Jack, before we go, it's time for our favorite part of the show, the best facts yet.
The best tidbits of info we couldn't fit into the story, but we also couldn't leave you without.
Yeah, why don't you kick us off right there?
What do we got?
Remember, we said Sesame Street took a page or two from the Disney IP playbook?
Well, that includes theme parks.
In 1980, Sesame Place opened up in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, with about 3 million visitors per year.
Sesame Place's attendance is on par with your average six flats.
You know, we actually did our fifth grade class trip there.
Did Elmo tickle you?
I tickled Elmo.
Never saw it coming.
Another one, Jack?
Bert's best pal might be Ernie, but did you know Bert actually had a twin brother named Bart?
He's a traveling salesman, so he never really saw me.
He was always on the road.
Cookie Monster originally didn't only eat cookies.
Oh, actually, in Sesame Street's pilot episode, I think he ate a letter.
He ate W.
What the show noticed that kids really connected with Cookie when he was focused on one single food.
Finally, Sesame Street's original architect, Joan Gans-Cooney, is still alive and fabulous at the time of this recording.
Her co-founder, Moyd Morset, he sadly passed away peacefully in 2023 at the age of 93.
And Carol Spinney, who brought Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch to life, passed away in 2019 at the age of 85.
And Jack Big Bird actually performed at Carol's Memorial, just as he had at Jim Henson's.
I'm crying again.
I think we need to bring Cookie Monster back.
Cookie Monster, you need to lighten the scene over here.
And that is why Sesame Street Street is the best idea yet.
On the next episode of The Best Idea Yet, get ready to live Moss.
Pork, we're about to take on Doritos Locos Tacos or DLT, as they're apparently called.
If you know, you know, and you're about to know.
Follow the best idea yet on the Wondery app, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can listen to every episode of The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.
Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.
The best idea yet is a production of Wondery, hosted by me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Ravichi Kramer.
Besties, if you've got a product you're obsessed with, but you wish you knew its backstory, drop us a comment and we'll dive into it for you.
Oh, and don't forget to rate and review the podcast five stars.
That actually helps us grow the show.
Our senior producers are Matt Beagle and Chris Gautier.
Peter Arcuni is our additional senior producer.
Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan and Taylor Sniffin is our managing producer.
Our associate producer is H.
Conley.
Research done by Brent Corson.
This episode was written and produced by Katie Clark Gray.
We use many sources in our research, including Street Gang, The Complete History of Sesame Street by Michael Davis, and the documentary Street Gang, How We Got to Sesame Street, directed by Marilyn Agrella.
Sound design and mixing by C.J.
Drummeler.
Fact-checking by Molly Quinlan Artwick.
Music supervision by Scott Velazquez and and Jolena Garcia for Free Song Sync.
Our theme song is Got That Feeling Again by Black Lack.
Executive producers for Nick and Jack Studios are me, Jack Ravici Kramer, and me, Nick Martell.
Executive producers for Wondery are Dave Easton, Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Aaron O'Flaherty, and Marshall Lewin.
How hard is it to kill a planet?
Maybe all it takes is a little drilling, some mining, and a whole lot of carbon pumped into the atmosphere.
When you see what's left, it starts to look like a crime scene.
Are we really safe?
Is our water safe?
You destroyed our top.
And crimes like that, they don't just happen.
We call things accidents.
There is no accident.
This was 100%
preventable.
They're the result of choices by people.
Ruthless oil tycoons, corrupt politicians, even organized crime.
These are the stories we need to be telling about our changing planet.
Stories of scams, murders, and cover-ups that are about us and the things we're doing to either protect the Earth or destroy it.
Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondry Plus in the Wondry app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.