The Phil Silvers Show (1955-1959): Otherwise known as the adventures of notorious US Army con-man Ernie Bilko, who regularly pulled the wool over the eyes of the perpetually befuddled Col. Hall while trying to earn a fast buck whenever possible. Although consistently ranked as one of the greatest sitcoms of all time, Silvers’ show had such an extensive ensemble cast that it was also one of the first series to get the axe not because it didn’t get ratings but because it was simply too expensive to maintain.

Ensign O’Toole (1962-1963): Starring future Disney staple Dean Jones as the title character, who was stationed aboard the U.S.S. Appleby. Although it only lasted for a single season, the series had a heck of a cast, featuring former “Phil Silvers Show” regular Harvey Lembeck as well as Jack Albertson and a very young Beau Bridges.

McHale’s Navy (1962-1966): Kids, if the only version of Lt. Commander Quinton McHale you know is the one played by Tom Arnold, you really don’t know “McHale’s Navy” at all. Head for the nearest wayback machine and check out the original series, starring the recently-departed Ernest Borgnine and the still-alive, still-hilarious Tim Conway. With a supporting cast that includes another future Disney stalwart, Joe Flynn, as well as noted prestidigitator Carl Ballantine, the show has, aside from the occasional – and, given the era, somewhat inevitable – politically-incorrect moments, held up well over the years.

No Time for Sergeants (1964-1965): You may be familiar with the one-hour television production, the stage production, or even the film production, as they all featured Andy Griffith as naive USAF newbie Will Stockdale, but for a single season in the ’60s, there was also a weekly series based on Mac Hyman’s original novel, with Sammy Jackson in the leading role. Ironically, the biggest reason the show was cancelled was that it couldn’t compete with the ratings of its competitor, “The Andy Griffith Show.”

Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. (1964-1969): And speaking of “The Andy Griffith Show,” this spin-off featured Mayberry’s favorite gas station attendant after he went respectable and joined the Marines. Sure, Gomer was a hayseed, and a marathon of more than a few episodes in a row is enough to drive just about any sane person mad, but in single-installment doses, Jim Nabors and Frank Sutton have some pretty outstanding comedy when they work together.

Mister Roberts (1965-1966): Another case of a property moving from the big screen to the small screen and only lasting a single season. Roger Smith does his best in the titular role, but what can we say? He’s good, but he’s no Henry Fonda. It’s interesting to note, however, that one of the show’s other stars, Richard X. Slattery, turned up a decade or so later in another military-set sitcom. (You’ll know it when we get to it. It starred Don Rickles.)

Mona McCluskey (1965-1966): One of the more unique yet less-remembered series on the list, Mona – played by leggy Juliet Prowse – was an actress who married a USAF sergeant (Denny Scott Miller), a manly-man type who wanted to be the breadwinner in their marriage and have them live on his salary rather than hers. You’d never catch a show that sexist making it on the air today, that’s for sure.

F Troop (1965-1967): Westerns were still decidedly in vogue in the ’60s, as was slapstick comedy, so why not blend the two? Set in a US Army outpost in the ironically-named Fort Courage, Texas, Larry Storch and Forrest Tucker were one of the great ’60s sitcom duos, not to mention one of the most memorable theme songs of the decade and a list of guest stars playing various cowboys and Indians to rival the star power that played bad guys on “Batman.”

I Dream of Jeannie (1965-1970): As you may have guessed, this is one of the series I was referencing in the intro when I noted that these aren’t all what you’d call military sitcoms, per se, but it was, at least by my recollection, the first time we ever saw an astronaut as a major character in a television series that wasn’t outright science fiction. (Not that a show about a genie is exactly reality TV, but you know what I mean.)

Hogan’s Heroes (1965-1971): Because nothing says comedy like the Nazis! Although it’s kind of amazing by today’s standards that a series about a WWII prison camp – and a sitcom, no less – would get on the air, let alone last as many seasons as this one did, but as silly as the plots often were, Bob Crane, Werner Klemperer, and their respective ensembles were pretty darned funny.

Dad’s Army (1968-1977): A British institution revolving around the nation’s Home Guard during World War II, which was basically volunteers who for whatever reason couldn’t officially serve in the military but still wanted to support their country during wartime. The series proved imminently quotable throughout the UK, spawning a radio show, stage play, and even a feature film, helping maintain the precedent that the best war-themed sitcoms last far longer than the wars that inspired them.

M*A*S*H (1972-1983): At last we reach the first show that I actually watched when it was still in new episodes rather than just reruns. (Granted, it was the last few seasons, when the series wasn’t firing on the same kind of comedy thrusters than it had been in its first several years on the air, but it still counts.) Set in the Korean War, the members of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit may have switched in and out throughout the run of the series, much like the US Army soldier in the real conflict, but the blend of comedy, drama, and social conscience made “M*A*S*H” one of the greatest TV shows of all time, military or otherwise.

Roll Out (1973-1974): Don’t remember this one? It’s no surprise, given how short-lived it was, but it was an attempt to capitalize on the success of “M*A*S*H,” except set in World War II rather than the Korean War. You’d think the fact that future “SNL” star Garrett Morris was part of the cast would at least have earned it a footnote in TV history, but, frankly, I didn’t know anything about it at all until I started putting together this piece.

C.P.O. Sharkey (1976-1978): Don Rickles needn’t have done anything in his career beyond his stand-up act and he’d still be a legend today, but once in awhile he’s tried to branch out a bit, doing movies here and there (I’m most partial to “Kelly’s Heroes” and “Casino”) and, for a few years in the ’70s, a sitcom as well. Looking back, it’s not much more than a glorified “Gomer Pyle” retread except with Sgt. Carter as the lead character, but as with everything he does, Rickles was memorable throughout.

Operation Petticoat (1977-1979): And so we come to yet another freaking movie adaptation, this one lasting at least a little bit longer than “No Time for Sergeants” and “Mister Roberts” by hanging on for two seasons. This one has become a bit of a footnote, however, as it offered us a good look at Jamie Lee Curtis. Not as good a look as we’d get in some of her later films, of course…but I digress. This was another they’d-never-get-away-with-it-today premise, with the male crew of a submarine going ga-ga for the girls who join their ranks, yet the reason it sank in the ratings was likely more to do with the fact that they retooled it after the first season and left viewers wondering what happened to the show they’d been watching the previous year.

Laverne & Shirley in the Army (1981-1982): I get that ABC wanted to capitalize on the cross-generational success of their prime-time series “Happy Days” and “Laverne & Shirley” by making animated versions of them for their Saturday morning line-up, but while Fonz and the gang got to travel through time, poor Ms. DiFazio and Feeney had to make do with joining the Army. You can blame the premise on the next show on our list, but as for the quality of the writing, address your complaints care of Hanna-Barbera.

Private Benjamin (1981-1983): Adapted from the Goldie Hawn film about a socialite who joins the US Army, this three-season series got namedropped recently in conversations about how NBC is switching “Up All Night” from a single-camera affair to a multi-camera operation with a live studio audience. (That’s more or less what “Private Benjamin” did after its first season, albeit with a laugh track rather than an audience.)

At Ease (1983): You’ll need to flip a coin and decide if this short-lived series was more of a career killer for Jimmie Walker or David Naughton. Personally, I’m of the belief that it was a last chance for prime-time success for Walker, who’s never managed to come anywhere near replicating the success of “Good times,” but, man, you’d think Naughton, who’d had a hit single (“Makin’ It”) and a hit film (“An American Werewolf in London”) by this point, could’ve drawn at least a few viewers in.

Blackadder Goes Forth (1989): There is no such thing as a bad “Blackadder” episode, but many would argue that the best of the bunch tend to come from this edition of Rowan Atkinson’s series, which was set in World War I, placing Blackadder, Baldrick and George in the trenches. Although the series is hilarious throughout virtually its entire run, the final moments of the final episode prove unexpectedly poignant, reminding viewers that although it’s not impossible to find laughs in a war, it’s still hell.

Major Dad (1989-1993): Jameson Parker may have failed to make the jump from “Simon & Simon” into another successful series, but his co-star, Gerald McRaney, had the good fortune of stepping straight from eight seasons of playing USMC Vietnam vet Rick Simon into playing USMC Major John D. “Mac” MacGillis for four seasons on “Major Dad.” Hey, once a Marine, always a Marine, right?

Honorable Mention: Charo and the Sergeant (1976)

I’ve never seen this, and I freely admit that the sum total of what I know about it comes from the Wikipedia entry of the Cuchi-Cuchi girl herself, but it’s too completely goofy not to mention. Apparently, the pilot was green-lit in 1975, with Harry Bowman of the Dallas Morning News describing the premise as “probably the worst idea of the season,” but it didn’t see the light of day until August 1976, and even then it was only as a one-off. (TV Guide responded the episode thusly: “Charo’s first U.S. job is to be a dancer at an off-limits night club and her conservative Marine Corps husband finds out.”) Supposedly several episodes of the series were produced and eventually aired overseas on the American Armed Forces Network, but given that there’s not even so much as a clip to be found on YouTube, one presumes that it wasn’t what you’d call a roaring success. Damn, I’d like to see it…

No matter how brilliantly or badly they turn out, I’ve always been a sucker for TV series revivals, be it as a “next generation” sort of series like this one or as a reunion movie, so I thought I’d throw together a list of some of my favorites for your reading enjoyment. The only caveats: I’m not counting occasions when a series jumped to the big screen, i.e. the not-very-good theatrical “Get Smart” movie, “The Nude Bomb,” nor am I including animated series in the mix…although if I did, you can bet the animated “Star Trek” series would be at the top of my list.

Okay, let’s roll…

When The CW first kicked off its return to West Beverly High School, the burning questions from virtually every TV critic who covered the series involved which of the original cast members would be returning. In the end, Jennie Garth (Kelly), Shannen Doherty (Brenda), Tori Spelling (Donna), Ann Gillespie (Jackie Taylor, Kelly’s mom), and Joe E. Tata (Nat, the proprietor of the Peach Pit) all ended up making it back to the familiar zip code for an episode or two, generally proving to be the most entertaining parts of those particular episodes. Since the show’s gone all new-school, though, I can’t be bothered to keep up with it.

This feels like a bit of a cheat, since it wasn’t so much a revival of an old series as it was an attempt to wrap up plot threads that had been left dangling when “Homicide: Life on the Street” departed the airwaves the year before. With that said, however, it still technically falls within the realm of a reunion film, and it’s one of the best ones you’re likely to find, so that’s why it’s here.

I always thought that the concept of this film, which posited that the Monkees continued to live together even after their series was cancelled, was an extremely clever one. I just wish the band’s reunion album, Justus, had been even half as enjoyable.

What can I tell you? I grew up about 15 minutes from the North Carolina border, and “The Dukes of Hazzard” was absolutely must-see TV for me when I was growing up. Even though I was 27 when Bo and Luke got back in the General Lee again, I was still hootin’ and a’hollerin’ with excitement. It’s just a shame that Boss Hogg didn’t live to see it. (RIP, Sorrell Booke.)

First things first: “The Nude Bomb” was terrible, and I hope whoever thought it was a good idea to put Maxwell Smart on the big screen without all of the elements that made “Get Smart” so funny got the punishment they deserved. I’m not saying that “Get Smart, Again!” is fantastic, either, but if you asked a fan of the original series to pick which of the two efforts they preferred, I absolutely cannot conceive of anyone picking anything other than this one. (I only wish the revival of the series with Andy Dick as Don Adams’ son had been as enjoyable.)

What started out as a way to get around a writer’s strike by re-filming episodes of the old series ultimately evolved into the adventures of a new generation of Impossible Missions Force agents, still led by Jim Phelps (Peter Graves). An additional tie to the classic “M:I” came via the character of Grant Collier, son of original team member Barney Collier, a situation which offered an addition wink at the audience by having Grant played by Phil Morris, the real son of Greg Morris, who played Barney. (Linda Day George also reprised her role as Linda Casey on an episode.)

Schmaltzy, yes, but consider how much better it was than “The Brady Brides.” Okay, so maybe that’s not saying much. Still, the holiday theme served as a nice framing device, and it’s not like the original series didn’t live in a world of happily-ever-after on a regular basis.

The sequels were a case of declining returns, even if one of them did co-star a young Sandra Bullock, but I can still remember the depth of my geeking out when I found out about this. Having revisited it on the recent “Six Million Dollar Man” box set, I won’t claim that it’s aged well, but I still have my memories.

This may sound strange, but I’m pretty sure that it was this TV movie that actually convinced me to watch “The Andy Griffith Show.” That’s backwards, I realize, but as a kid, I always preferred shows that features kids as main characters, and although Opie was a regular, the plots really didn’t revolve around him all that much. Since then, of course, I’ve come to realize what a wonderful series it is, and this was a lovely look back at Mayberry that worked quite well, I thought.

I can’t even be bothered to go to Wikipedia and see how many subsequent “Perry Mason” movies there were. I just remember how excited my mother was when this one first came on. (She’d been positively addicted to the original series.) The idea of Judge Mason stepping down from the bench in order to defend his former secretary Della Street against a murder charge was a great premise for the film, and I’m not surprised that it was successful enough to warrant further “Perry Mason” adventures. All things being equal, though, I think they would’ve been better served if they’d made it an hour-long series rather than a bunch of two-hour movies that invariably dragged at various points. Oh, well.

At the time this premiered, I’d never actually seen an episode of the original series – I only knew it from its reputation in a book about cult TV – but I still enjoyed it immensely. (I also wasn’t as bothered by some when Patrick Macnee stepped in to replace Leo G. Carroll out of necessity.) Having said that, the cameo by George Lazenby as a secret agent referred to as “J.B.” was a step too far into silliness.

A lot of people had problems with the idea of taking America’s perfect family – the Cleavers – and revealing that they ended up being just as dysfunctional as everyone else, with Beaver getting a divorce and so forth, but I just thought it made it seem more real. But, hell, I was only 13 at the time, so what did I know about reality?

It was never going to be the same without the presence of Michael Dunn as Dr. Miguelito Loveless, but the conceit of having the not-nearly-as-diminutive Paul Williams playing Dr. Miguelito Loveless, Jr. just about made up for it. Robert Conrad and Ross Martin were clearly having the time of their lives playing a couple of old guys getting back in the saddle again, and the fun translated to the viewers quite well.

For my money, this is the definitive TV-reunion film, even if Tina Louise couldn’t be arsed to play Ginger. It captures the spirit of the original series perfectly, it gives people something they’d wanted to see for more than a decade (the Castaways finally getting off the island and back to civilization) and delivers it with surprising emotion, and – best of all – it ends by going full circle. Alas, that means that it also set up two pretty lifeless sequels, including the infamous “The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island,” but as a standalone film, it’s about as good as these things get. Yeah, that’s right: I just put “Rescue from Gilligan’s Island” in the same category as “Homicide: The Movie.” How often do you think that happens?

Don’t remember this one? Hell, I’m not even sure why I remember it, aside from the fact that I’ve been an “Addams Family” aficionado for as long as I can remember. But I think it’s the only time we got to see the original TV cast members playing their parts in glorious color, and as ’70s artifacts go, it’s pretty entertaining.

1. The New WKRP in Cincinnati (1991-1993): Setting aside the handful of episodes in which Howard Hesseman and Loni Anderson returned to reprise their roles as Dr. Johnny Fever and Jennifer Marlowe, respectively, this attempt to recapture the magic of one of the funniest sitcoms of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s failed far more often than it succeeded.

2. I Dream of Jeannie: 15 Years Later (1985): I’ll give them credit for trying to put together the best possible reunion movie they could with the cast they had available to them, but while it was good to see Barbara Eden, Bill Daily, and Hayden Rorke playing Jeannie, Roger, and Dr. Bellows again, it never should’ve been made without Larry Hagman. And to have Wayne Rogers playing Tony Nelson? Give me a break.

3. The Bradys (1990): Bobby becomes a paraplegic! Jan can’t conceive! Marcia battles alcoholism! Every one of these is an actual storyline from the short-lived attempt to transform the lives of a man named Brady, his lovely lady, and their six kids into an hour-long drama. It worked for a holiday movie because there was a happy ending to look forward to, but this was just depressing as all hell.

4. Mary and Rhoda (2000): I’m sure it sounded like a great idea on paper to revisit Mary Richards-Cronin and Rhoda Morgenstern-Rousseau as they enter their 60s, but the decision to offer precious little in the way of references to their friends from the old show and put two of the most memorable sitcom characters of the ‘70s into a two-hour dramedy just didn’t work.

5. The Facts of Life Reunion (2001): No Nancy McKeon. FAIL.