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MARY's first Christmas episode, December 1970; it's not really all that funny, wimpy Mary and her silly nice-girl problems, but it's the bittersweet period mood which sells it:
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Although MTM could be amusing and even hilarious at times, I've never thought of the humor as being its main asset. The show's vibe and atmosphere -- cozy yet wistful -- was vital, although that faded a bit through the years (particularly in that generic later apartment). Equally important, the show's appeal depending heavily on the sheer likability and relatability of its characters. More than any other of the great classic sitcoms, rewatching MTM feels like visiting with old friends.
Until recently, I had no idea why the Xmas episode was called "Christmas and the Hard-Luck Kid II"; interesting that it was named after an episode of THAT GIRL, the show's spiritual predecessor. There are a handful of holiday-themed sitcom episodes that are among my seasonal viewing habits and both of Mary's Christmas episodes are as important as IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE and the Grinch to me.
Until recently, I had no idea why the Xmas episode was called "Christmas and the Hard-Luck Kid II"; interesting that it was named after an episode of THAT GIRL, the show's spiritual predecessor. There are a handful of holiday-themed sitcom episodes that are among my seasonal viewing habits and both of Mary's Christmas episodes are as important as IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE and the Grinch to me.
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And that distinctive '70s melancholy did subside as the decade went along, somewhat in keeping with Mary's apartment change. I mean, that atmosphere was still, to a point, there in the late-'70s (and arguably through the calendar year of 1980) but it lessened a great deal after, say, 1975.
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And a very different Christmas episode for years later..
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The general mood in America changed around 1975. After the Watergate scandal and the fall of Saigon, audiences were so demoralized that they wanted feel-good material rather than the grim material that was often seen in theatrical films in the first half of the decade. But the trend continued to TV as the ratings for All in the Family and Maude were overtaken by the ratings for the bubble-gum like Happy Days and Laverne and Shirley.
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Well, the late-'70s were a bit of a refractory period -- a little less melancholy (although it was still there to a point) -- a little breezy, with a slightly pervy underbelly (it was The Serial Sex Slayer era), before the neocon greed-is-good Reagan/Thatcher thing kicked in in the '80s which was so small and petty and fundamentally dishonest on a cellular level.
Those things certainly affect the tone of TV shows.
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What 'The Mary Tyler Moore Show' Taught Me About Growing Up — And Being Single
"Mary Richards lived alone, shopped alone, slept alone. And she was fine, fulfilled and even happy."
ca.sports.yahoo.com
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Nice little piece, although he uses the word "queer" more than once, so read ahead with caution...
Jeffrey Davies
Mon, July 3, 2023
Picture it, North America, 2017: A new year was upon us. Thousands of women were about to march in Washington after Donald Trump was elected president of the United States. Twitter had never been as on fire, figuratively or literally, as it was the day of his inauguration.
I was in my second year of college, a Canadian who liked to believe he could watch the madman’s circus from a safe distance without it affecting him. But no one was exempt from witnessing this dreaded moment in history.
Then, to top it off, Mary Tyler Moore died.
I don’t remember the very first time I saw “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.” The same way I can’t vividly recall the first rerun I saw of “All in the Family,” “Maude” or “The Jeffersons.” To me, merely watching these shows as background noise was a subconsciously subversive act, one that would make an adult enter the room and say, “You’re watching this?” Looking back, it was a solid precursor to my budding queerness, the burning desire to be set apart from the pack. But then I grew up and learned that attempting to age backward in childhood as a so-called “old soul” had its own mental health repercussions.
In January 2017, I was facing what I’ve heard quite a lot of college students face at one time or another: the crushing realization that I had no real idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be a writer of some kind, and that was about it. Many told me I didn’t need to have it figured out beyond that, but they were no match for the voices in my head, mounting in volume as they tried to mentally prepare me for the day when I would be on my own.
I was in a near-constant vulnerable emotional state for my post-secondary years, so I jumped at the chance to enjoy a “Mary Tyler Moore”marathon on the now-defunct Canadian retro channel, Comedy Gold, the weekend following her death. When I watched old episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” for the first time in years, it felt like the biggest warm hug anyone could ever ask for.
The theme song alone was enough to comfort me away from probing inner anxieties. While the opening credits of “Mary Tyler Moore” would change and evolve over its seven seasons, it never strayed from adequately portraying what the show was about: a single woman, holding down a steady job with friends who care about her but was, at the end of the day, alone. Mary Richards lived alone, shopped alone, slept alone. And she was fine, fulfilled and even happy.
This message was, of course, monumental during the series’ original run between 1970 and 1977 during the rise of second-wave feminism. While some of its office politics might appear dated on the surface, almost everything about “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” holds up in a modern context. It’s the ultimate home and workplace comedy, where Mary can never manage to throw a successful dinner party, but her work colleagues and best-friend neighbors Rhoda (Valerie Harper) and Phyllis (Cloris Leachman) never hold it against her. Mary’s mistakes never define her. They’re presented as just another roadblock on the hideously unpaved highway that is adulthood.
As an only child and a queer person born and raised in suburbia, I’d known what it was like to be alone. I liked it, even. I’d honed my skills as a professional introvert throughout much of my teen years, but that was not enough for well-meaning adults who told me I needed to break out of my shell and open myself up to new experiences — even if I already knew said experiences would not be for me.
I like to say that I raised myself on classic sitcoms of the 20th century because it isn’t an exaggeration. Growing up, I’d always gravitated toward things that other kids didn’t, mostly so it could be something that was “just mine.”
But classic sitcoms went further than that, because I knew that the adults around me had connections to them, too. They grew up when they were on TV, and I liked nothing better than daydreaming what it was like to live in a time that wasn’t my own. The old-soul adage and now cliché of, “You were born in the wrong generation,” has been lobbied at me in my life more times than I can count.
Once I got older, watching “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” allowed me the chance to breathe and rest from constantly trying to solve the riddle of adulthood for myself, as I would soon learn after purchasing all seven seasons on DVD. It showed me that someone can be fundamentally on their own, as I’ve always been, and still live a successful, content life. It showed me that friends can come and go but still become family in the best possible ways. It showed me that a job can just be a job, and not something that you must lose sleep over. Above all, it showed me that regardless of what storm life chooses to send our way, we are all worthy of the chance to make it after all.
But how would I make it on my own? This world is awfully big, as Sonny Curtis reminds us in the original opening theme from the first season, and girl, this time you’re all alone. Sadly, there are only so many life lessons one can infer from a television show about fictional characters who do not exist. There are only so many times one can watch “Mary Tyler Moore” alone in bed on their few days off from an impossibly hectic school/work schedule and think that it will solve the anxiety that would choke me at any given moment.
A television show can change your life; it can heal you in all the ways you need it to ― but it doesn’t replace legitimate treatment for an anxiety disorder.
It can’t, I know that now.
In fact, the last time I rewatched “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” was in the weeks leading up to the breakdown that landed me in a university health clinic. There was once a time when the task of living felt like a burden so heavy I didn’t know how to lighten it. I was prescribed the anti-anxiety medication I should have sought out years ago. In my darkest moments, I’ve still believed that the healing power of a good TV show can solve all my problems.
“Mary Tyler Moore” gave me an excuse to keep living during those times, to not give up simply because the task of becoming myself was too hard and too painful. I now have additional support systems in place to help me when that pain hurts more than it should, but I don’t believe I would’ve developed the courage to reach a place like that if it hadn’t been for Mary Richards and her blueprint for “successful” adulthood.
I don’t worry about being successful anymore. I just focus on taking my nothing days and trying to make them seem worthwhile.
Jeffrey Davies
Mon, July 3, 2023
Picture it, North America, 2017: A new year was upon us. Thousands of women were about to march in Washington after Donald Trump was elected president of the United States. Twitter had never been as on fire, figuratively or literally, as it was the day of his inauguration.
I was in my second year of college, a Canadian who liked to believe he could watch the madman’s circus from a safe distance without it affecting him. But no one was exempt from witnessing this dreaded moment in history.
Then, to top it off, Mary Tyler Moore died.
I don’t remember the very first time I saw “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.” The same way I can’t vividly recall the first rerun I saw of “All in the Family,” “Maude” or “The Jeffersons.” To me, merely watching these shows as background noise was a subconsciously subversive act, one that would make an adult enter the room and say, “You’re watching this?” Looking back, it was a solid precursor to my budding queerness, the burning desire to be set apart from the pack. But then I grew up and learned that attempting to age backward in childhood as a so-called “old soul” had its own mental health repercussions.
In January 2017, I was facing what I’ve heard quite a lot of college students face at one time or another: the crushing realization that I had no real idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be a writer of some kind, and that was about it. Many told me I didn’t need to have it figured out beyond that, but they were no match for the voices in my head, mounting in volume as they tried to mentally prepare me for the day when I would be on my own.
I was in a near-constant vulnerable emotional state for my post-secondary years, so I jumped at the chance to enjoy a “Mary Tyler Moore”marathon on the now-defunct Canadian retro channel, Comedy Gold, the weekend following her death. When I watched old episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” for the first time in years, it felt like the biggest warm hug anyone could ever ask for.
The theme song alone was enough to comfort me away from probing inner anxieties. While the opening credits of “Mary Tyler Moore” would change and evolve over its seven seasons, it never strayed from adequately portraying what the show was about: a single woman, holding down a steady job with friends who care about her but was, at the end of the day, alone. Mary Richards lived alone, shopped alone, slept alone. And she was fine, fulfilled and even happy.
This message was, of course, monumental during the series’ original run between 1970 and 1977 during the rise of second-wave feminism. While some of its office politics might appear dated on the surface, almost everything about “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” holds up in a modern context. It’s the ultimate home and workplace comedy, where Mary can never manage to throw a successful dinner party, but her work colleagues and best-friend neighbors Rhoda (Valerie Harper) and Phyllis (Cloris Leachman) never hold it against her. Mary’s mistakes never define her. They’re presented as just another roadblock on the hideously unpaved highway that is adulthood.
As an only child and a queer person born and raised in suburbia, I’d known what it was like to be alone. I liked it, even. I’d honed my skills as a professional introvert throughout much of my teen years, but that was not enough for well-meaning adults who told me I needed to break out of my shell and open myself up to new experiences — even if I already knew said experiences would not be for me.
I like to say that I raised myself on classic sitcoms of the 20th century because it isn’t an exaggeration. Growing up, I’d always gravitated toward things that other kids didn’t, mostly so it could be something that was “just mine.”
But classic sitcoms went further than that, because I knew that the adults around me had connections to them, too. They grew up when they were on TV, and I liked nothing better than daydreaming what it was like to live in a time that wasn’t my own. The old-soul adage and now cliché of, “You were born in the wrong generation,” has been lobbied at me in my life more times than I can count.
Once I got older, watching “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” allowed me the chance to breathe and rest from constantly trying to solve the riddle of adulthood for myself, as I would soon learn after purchasing all seven seasons on DVD. It showed me that someone can be fundamentally on their own, as I’ve always been, and still live a successful, content life. It showed me that friends can come and go but still become family in the best possible ways. It showed me that a job can just be a job, and not something that you must lose sleep over. Above all, it showed me that regardless of what storm life chooses to send our way, we are all worthy of the chance to make it after all.
But how would I make it on my own? This world is awfully big, as Sonny Curtis reminds us in the original opening theme from the first season, and girl, this time you’re all alone. Sadly, there are only so many life lessons one can infer from a television show about fictional characters who do not exist. There are only so many times one can watch “Mary Tyler Moore” alone in bed on their few days off from an impossibly hectic school/work schedule and think that it will solve the anxiety that would choke me at any given moment.
A television show can change your life; it can heal you in all the ways you need it to ― but it doesn’t replace legitimate treatment for an anxiety disorder.
It can’t, I know that now.
In fact, the last time I rewatched “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” was in the weeks leading up to the breakdown that landed me in a university health clinic. There was once a time when the task of living felt like a burden so heavy I didn’t know how to lighten it. I was prescribed the anti-anxiety medication I should have sought out years ago. In my darkest moments, I’ve still believed that the healing power of a good TV show can solve all my problems.
“Mary Tyler Moore” gave me an excuse to keep living during those times, to not give up simply because the task of becoming myself was too hard and too painful. I now have additional support systems in place to help me when that pain hurts more than it should, but I don’t believe I would’ve developed the courage to reach a place like that if it hadn’t been for Mary Richards and her blueprint for “successful” adulthood.
I don’t worry about being successful anymore. I just focus on taking my nothing days and trying to make them seem worthwhile.
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They didn't forget Bess. 
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Five and a half decades later... I'm discovering MTM for the very first time. Beginning last night with the three opening episodes.
Season One
Love Is All Around / Today I Am A Ma’am / Bess, You Is My Daughter Now
It's such a renowned series I’m aware it exists. I’ve heard and seen some pop culture references (Romy and Michele’s argument over which of them is the Mary and which the Rhoda; pastiches of the opening credits on Family Guy…). I know some of the characters’ names and faces, and I know about the three spinoffs (Lou Grant being the most familiar of all four series. I have a feeling it may have aired in the UK whereas I don’t recall ever being aware of the others transmitting here… including MTM itself). And I know Betty White plays Sue Ann Nivens who I believe is some kind of man-hungry nymph hiding behind a Betty Crocker image.
Some of the cast are familiar from other things. I watched Valerie Harper’s eponymous Eighties sitcom. Cloris Leachman I only know from her turn as Hippolyta in The New, Original Wonder Woman, where she dialled up the ham (literally chewing on her own hand at one point). Probably best-known to me is Ed Asner, and the good news is I’ve yet to see a role of his in which I didn’t love him. I know him best from The Trials Of Rosie O’Neill and Spider-Man TAS, in both of which he played the same gruff, blustery boss role as he does in MTM. Of course he was also terrific in Up!, and I finally watched JFK a year or two ago and he was delightfully unlikeable in that.
Beyond that, most of the cast are unknown to me. And that includes MTM herself who I know by sight, but don’t recall actually watching anything in which she starred. I have, of course, watched numerous productions from her company… including the aforementioned Rosie O’Neill.
From what I’ve seen so far, everything works incredibly well in terms of on-screen chemistry. Even Bess is well-cast which is great news for someone who has a very low tolerance when it comes to cutesy kids in series. Everyone feels fully formed right from the start, and there are some winning deliveries of great lines.
James L. Brooks is also a familiar name. Beyond The Simpsons I most strongly associate him with As Good As It Gets where he was responsible for some of its most memorable moments. I’m already seeing hints of this style in the lines here which are easy to identify with.
The tone of the series has already won me over. Not only is the entire cast great, but it just feels so accessible. I already feel very much connected to this cosy little world and it’s a place I not only want to visit but need to continue visiting. Sixteen hours ago I’d never experienced it and already I’d miss it if it wasn’t around. I can’t even begin to say how unusual this is for someone with whom series often take a while to settle in.
That apartment set with its painted wood panelling (every time I see that colour I think of Farrow & Ball’s Mizzle) is absolutely beautiful, and I could actually live in a place with this decor and change very little (apart from perhaps the shag carpet). I can’t think of another series of this era where I’ve said that before. I’ve just finished Maude and while I found the earth tones comforting I know if I moved into a house with that decor there would be a serious overhaul. Following on from a discussion in the Maude thread, by the way, I see Mary’s apartment has the obligatory swing door to the kitchen.
As far as eras go, it feels like MTM has the best of several worlds. Some of the styling, as mentioned, feels contemporary, and it certainly has the Seventies sense of progressiveness despite its lack of garishness. At the same time, there’s also something of the Sixties Mod about Mary herself. I’m reminded of Barbara Feldon, Pat Morrow or Yvonne Craig.
I’m a little unclear as to the title of the series. Onscreen it’s only Mary Tyler Moore, but it seems to be universally - and officially - known as The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I don’t suppose it matters hugely, since I’m going to end up just calling it MTM, but it’s still a matter of curiosity for me.
As is probably clear, I’m already a little in love with this series. I don’t know where it goes or how it all ends, and I won't be reading through the rest of this thread yet just in case there are huge spoilers (even though I suspect it may not be that kind of series). At this point I’m just going to enjoy the journey. It’s great to finally be on board.
Season One
Love Is All Around / Today I Am A Ma’am / Bess, You Is My Daughter Now
It's such a renowned series I’m aware it exists. I’ve heard and seen some pop culture references (Romy and Michele’s argument over which of them is the Mary and which the Rhoda; pastiches of the opening credits on Family Guy…). I know some of the characters’ names and faces, and I know about the three spinoffs (Lou Grant being the most familiar of all four series. I have a feeling it may have aired in the UK whereas I don’t recall ever being aware of the others transmitting here… including MTM itself). And I know Betty White plays Sue Ann Nivens who I believe is some kind of man-hungry nymph hiding behind a Betty Crocker image.
Some of the cast are familiar from other things. I watched Valerie Harper’s eponymous Eighties sitcom. Cloris Leachman I only know from her turn as Hippolyta in The New, Original Wonder Woman, where she dialled up the ham (literally chewing on her own hand at one point). Probably best-known to me is Ed Asner, and the good news is I’ve yet to see a role of his in which I didn’t love him. I know him best from The Trials Of Rosie O’Neill and Spider-Man TAS, in both of which he played the same gruff, blustery boss role as he does in MTM. Of course he was also terrific in Up!, and I finally watched JFK a year or two ago and he was delightfully unlikeable in that.
Beyond that, most of the cast are unknown to me. And that includes MTM herself who I know by sight, but don’t recall actually watching anything in which she starred. I have, of course, watched numerous productions from her company… including the aforementioned Rosie O’Neill.
From what I’ve seen so far, everything works incredibly well in terms of on-screen chemistry. Even Bess is well-cast which is great news for someone who has a very low tolerance when it comes to cutesy kids in series. Everyone feels fully formed right from the start, and there are some winning deliveries of great lines.
James L. Brooks is also a familiar name. Beyond The Simpsons I most strongly associate him with As Good As It Gets where he was responsible for some of its most memorable moments. I’m already seeing hints of this style in the lines here which are easy to identify with.
The tone of the series has already won me over. Not only is the entire cast great, but it just feels so accessible. I already feel very much connected to this cosy little world and it’s a place I not only want to visit but need to continue visiting. Sixteen hours ago I’d never experienced it and already I’d miss it if it wasn’t around. I can’t even begin to say how unusual this is for someone with whom series often take a while to settle in.
That apartment set with its painted wood panelling (every time I see that colour I think of Farrow & Ball’s Mizzle) is absolutely beautiful, and I could actually live in a place with this decor and change very little (apart from perhaps the shag carpet). I can’t think of another series of this era where I’ve said that before. I’ve just finished Maude and while I found the earth tones comforting I know if I moved into a house with that decor there would be a serious overhaul. Following on from a discussion in the Maude thread, by the way, I see Mary’s apartment has the obligatory swing door to the kitchen.
As far as eras go, it feels like MTM has the best of several worlds. Some of the styling, as mentioned, feels contemporary, and it certainly has the Seventies sense of progressiveness despite its lack of garishness. At the same time, there’s also something of the Sixties Mod about Mary herself. I’m reminded of Barbara Feldon, Pat Morrow or Yvonne Craig.
I’m a little unclear as to the title of the series. Onscreen it’s only Mary Tyler Moore, but it seems to be universally - and officially - known as The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I don’t suppose it matters hugely, since I’m going to end up just calling it MTM, but it’s still a matter of curiosity for me.
As is probably clear, I’m already a little in love with this series. I don’t know where it goes or how it all ends, and I won't be reading through the rest of this thread yet just in case there are huge spoilers (even though I suspect it may not be that kind of series). At this point I’m just going to enjoy the journey. It’s great to finally be on board.
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The cusp of the '60s/'70s had an organic-ky heartbroken flavor to the world, and that manifest itself in a lot of montage-y things that were terribly evocative and nakedly poignant (think the silent snow angels sequence in LOVE STORY and the entire HAROLD & MAUDE film, as well as the first season opening theme design and orchestration for MTM).
Mary has a quality, as does the show around her, that taps into that melancholy vibe as much as any TV series did at the time (although there were ubiquitous symptoms of it all around back then). The first season feels the most that way.
That first year is a wee bit "loud" (everybody speaks like it's still a stage-y sitcom or variety show from the '60s) but that adjust quickly by the second season, and the humor becomes more sophisticated (they stop getting jokes out of just Ted mis-pronouncing proper names -- although, of course, he still does it).
MTM develops as nicely as any show ever does, changes to some degree as it goes on (as indeed it does) and it never slides. It's good to the end. Betty White starts popping up here-and-there in the fourth season before becoming a regular.
In the States, it's generally regarded as perhaps the best sitcom of its decade, back in an era where character-based comedies series -- good ones -- were unusual, and not the assembly-lined "clever" genre it became by the late-'80s and beyond.
Be forewarned, however: there is a minority of people who utterly despise THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW -- and let's just say they tend to drink a lot of black coffee.
It's called both, really. But Mary once said in an interview that they left off the THE and the SHOW because "it seemed cozier."
I've seen that. I never picture a big window behind the camera, and I envision Mary's potty room as being round and in that turret.
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@Snarky Oracle! has beautifully expanded on both the show's vibe and how it perfectly fit the era, but cozy is a perfect descriptor. MTM is a wonderful series from beginning to end, but I find the feel and atmosphere of the early seasons to be somewhat magical: somehow autumnal with a hint of melancholy, but also very comfortable and snug.
Yes, the apartment is a very important component of the series' success; it grounds the series in a firm sense of time and place. Too many shows feel like what they are -- actors on a set. Both of MTM's main set pieces feel real and alive, but particularly the apartment.
Noting that you are deliberately not reading through the rest of the thread, there was a robust discussion about this some pages back. Officially the show is titled MARY TYLER MOORE but verbally it is usually referred to as THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW. Presumably this is to distinguish between show and actress. Easy enough to differentiate between MARY TYLER MOORE and Mary Tyler Moore in print, but not when speaking.
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Worth expanding on a bit, as presumably @Mel O'Drama doesn't have a deep familiarity with American sitcoms.
By the tail end of the Sixties, American sitcoms were a desolate wasteland of stale, loud, garish shows that were completely disconnected from any sense of reality. In 1970, two shows came along that breathed new life into the genre: ALL IN THE FAMILY and MARY TYLER MOORE. If AITF was loudly revolutionary, MTM was quietly revolutionary -- and all the more effective because of it.
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They didn't forget Bess.
Yet they fail to bus in Gordy.
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I think these qualities are captured really well in the opening titles. The jaunty music and occasionally dizzying zooms and fast cuts (very of their time) are offset by the visuals: hazy walks in the snow with skeletal trees and sunsets. The song's lyrics and Mary's smile are hopeful, but there's no mistaking that melancholy.
With several key characters being spun-off to their own series, I'd feared the main series might be negatively impacted, so this is really good to know.
Intriguing.
Thanks for the clarification both. It's helped make sense of it to me.
I'm looking forward to catching up on the previous pages in due course.
Thanks for the context. As you know, I'm a little familiar with AITF, partly because I watched the two Maude-adjacent episodes before watching that series, but mainly due to AITF being a remake of a British series which I'd seen occasionally but actively watched for the first time at the start of this year.
Now I find myself trying - and failing - to decide if a similar revolution was happening with British sitcoms around this time. Certainly, Till Death Us Do Part (AITF's antecedent) stirred things up in the mid to late Sixties, but I really can't think of a British series that would be analogous with MTM.
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Before my time, so I don't know how aware contemporaneous audiences were of the entertainment upheavals they were witnessing. Certainly I think AITF's impact was hardly subtle. In '69, American TV comedies were pablum. AITF had to feel like a full frontal assault, even if couched in domestic sitcom coziness. MTM's impact was more subtle and so perhaps only fully apparent in retrospect how it had one foot in the past and one in the future.
Mary's success with her eponymous series didn't exist in a vacuum; she was well known to American TV audiences by way of her co-starring role on THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW the previous decade. If MTM was the sitcom masterpiece of the 70s, DVD was its 60s counterpart. On DVD, Mary was the lead actor's spouse, an unusually sexy housewife named Laura Petrie. Laurie's comedic image was heavily inspired by Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball), the star of the best sitcom of the 50s, I LOVE LUCY. And so, when Mary Richards struck out to make it on her own she carried with her two decades of audience familiarity; early Mary Richards feels very much like Laurie Petrie after leaving her clumsy husband in the suburbs. In fact, Mary was originally meant to be a divorcee but network execs feared audiences would think Laurie had left Rob. But Mary Richards is also symbolic (reluctantly on the part of the actress) of the second wave feminism that was in full bloom and an absolutely vital step in the development of women in sitcoms.
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One of the things I wondered about as I watched last night was MTM's background before the series. The fact that MTM Enterprises produced the series strongly suggests she was experienced, knowledgeable and business minded at this point which feels impressive (and I'm more impressed reading your comment that she was reluctant for her character to be symbolic of the feminist movement).
Now you mention it I somehow sort of knew about her being on The Dick Van Dyke Show, but apparently it was stored away too well in some compartment at the back of my mind.