Nov. 20--It is the defining moment of the "The Cosby Show" pilot episode, which 30 years ago introduced obstetrician Cliff Huxtable to the world. Son Theo -- like typical family-sitcom viewers at the time -- expects his father will accept his shortcomings and love him unconditionally.
Bill Cosby's Dr. Huxtable instead calls this "the dumbest thing" he's ever heard, tells Theo he expects better and punctuates this message with the unforgettable line: "I brought you in this world, and I'll take you out."
It was abrupt, unsentimental and left no room for appeal.
It was also just like the public opinion that in recent days has unmade Cosby, 77. As strong as his reputation might have been, the affection he engendered, the value and strength of his personal brand, it was no match for accusations that suddenly turned him from a beloved American father figure to a scary "uncle" you wouldn't leave alone with your kids.
Allegations Cosby drugged and sexually assaulted women are getting a sustained, wide and energized airing after years of being ignored or kept secret. His image, largely stainless for half a century despite periodic broadsides, has lost whatever Teflon properties it may have had.
Denials through representatives and not dignifying the accusations with audible responses have slowed his free fall no more than the legal standing of innocence until proved guilty.
That he has not faced a judge or jury in regard to the public charges, let alone been convicted of anything, would matter if his only concern were personal freedom and liability.
It was his image -- what he projected and what the audience projected on him -- that made him such an effective tout over the years for everything from Kodak to Coca-Cola, White Owl cigars to Jell-O, Texas Instruments to E. F. Hutton.
Such was the power of the Cosby image that it often was stronger and longer lasting than the brands that sought to benefit from their association with him.
It was the image and imagery he presented that made his humor funny.
It was what people saw in him.
They see something else now, fairly or not, right or wrong, and it casts a shadow from which it's hard to escape. If he hadn't traded on his image as a gold-standard familial ideal, he wouldn't be so badly penalized for losing that gloss. It casts everything around him in a different light.
The goodwill is gone.
The doctor is out.
Streaming service Netflix has shelved a Cosby stand-up comedy special this week.
NBC, which drafted on the success of "The Cosby Show" to become the nation's No. 1 network back when broadcast television was the center of the media universe, dropped plans to develop a new family sitcom.
Cable's TV Land has yanked "The Cosby Show" reruns off its schedule.
"It's time for America's Dad to talk," the front-page headline of Thursday's New York Daily News simultaneously blared and beckoned.
He has essentially run the table and been sanctioned across the spectrum of media platforms -- in just a week.
But what can Cosby possibly say or do to salvage his reputation, restore his brand, return to his standing as a fun-loving father figure, the mugging, pudding-pitching comedian and cultural commentator welcomed into homes and hearts for 50 years?
How does an innocent man sound different protesting he didn't do something than a guilty one? If guilty, what kind of forgiveness can be expected or earned and how quickly could it possibly come?
Tylenol, in 1982, could pull its products off shelves and return them with safeguards that continued to reassure consumers of product safety after it had been established an extortionist was responsible for the deaths from cyanide-laced capsules found in Chicago-area stores.
But once a reputation is poisoned, once a person is seen differently, how can he be made to seem pure again?
Public opinion brought Bill Cosby into our world, and it has most decidedly taken him out.
philrosenthal@tribpub.com
Twitter @phil_rosenthal
