Why Tony Soprano was the Best Father in TV History

I took a poll on my Facebook page recently asking who readers thought was the best fictional TV father? While the responses ranged from Bundy to Brady, the greatest number of people said Cliff Huxtable, Bill Cosby’s beloved OB/GYN from The Cosby Show. One reader’s reasoning:

One father who never even occurred to me before this conversation turned out to be among the most popular choices: Tony Danza’s Tony Micelli from Who’s the Boss?  One reader summed Tony up perfectly to me:

Those two fathers, though seemingly polar opposites (one a successful physician, the other a baseball player turned housekeeper), were actually quite similar as the primary goal of both was to give their families a better life. And if you mixed those two dudes together, you'll get who I think is the greatest father in TV history: Tony Soprano.

As a die-hard TV fan, I was a rabid enthusiast of HBO’s The Sopranos throughout its entire eight year run, starting with episode 1 and ending 1 second before the show’s cut-to-black culmination in episode 86. Needless to say, I was shocked to hear of the untimely recent passing of James Gandolfini for several reasons, not the least of which is that he has a brand-new baby at home who is a couple weeks younger than my 9-month-old Littler Dude. A true tragedy. 

Beyond being a great father, Gandolfini’s Tony Soprano was arguably the most compelling protagonist/antagonist combination ever seen on TV. As both a doting father to his two kids, Meadow and AJ, and a godfather of the largest organized crime family in New Jersey, Soprano ruled two distinct households successfully, but never faultlessly.  It was the perfect dichotomy of “fathering” experiences and Tony managed to lead an atypical, yet successful, work/life balance.

The Soprano family, in happier times

You might wonder how I can say that a murdering, thieving gangster could be considered a quality father. The truth is that Tony Soprano is the only “real” fictional mobster, and one of the few "real" fathers, we’ve ever seen. He had issues with his parents, spouse, job and kids, just like pretty much any other parent. He battled endless temptation. His friends frequently let him down or double-crossed him. But he also sought therapy to deal with all of those conflicting ping-pong balls bouncing around his head.  I can’t think of another celluloid Mafia Don who has ever been as vulnerable as Tony Soprano consistently proved to be over the years.*

Tony's other family

Like most people, Tony’s family life was full of challenges. Living in an upscale New Jersey neighborhood, his kids faced the usual struggles that teenagers commonly must deal with regarding school, friends and substances. The Soprano kids became more withdrawn from family life upon learning, kind of, about their father’s line of business. Tony’s parenting philosophy was influenced heavily by his own upbringing, which was often the subject of his therapy sessions. While he was afraid to tell his friends about his therapy and use of anti-depressants for fear of being viewed as weak, I believe he did it for the benefit of not only himself, but also his family. He spent vast amounts of time with Dr. Melfi uncovering layers of damage that his parents, especially his mother who at one point tried to have him killed, instilled in him.

One episode that always sticks out in my mind about the kind of parent Tony was is an early episode titled “College” where Tony took Meadow to visit some schools in New England. In the long car ride up the coast, some big issues were discussed, including drugs, drinking and Tony’s alleged line of work. Tony and his daughter dealt with an uncomfortable line of questioning that went both ways, and that awkward conversation opened the lines of communication for them going forward. The episode later showed Tony being put in another awkward position when he unexpectedly bumped into a former colleague, who’d disappeared years prior into Witness Protection. Faced with the choice of spending quality time with his daughter and doing his “work” made Tony choose how to balance two very important matters, something most parents have to deal with every day. I won’t give away what happened, but will say that Tony was a great multi-tasker.

So while you may scoff at my choice for TV’s best father, and wonder why I didn’t choose Ward Cleaver, Father Ingalls or even Dan Conner, I selected someone who regularly showed the inner-strength to deal with extreme adversity for the betterment of his family. To me, Tony Soprano was that man. 

James Gandolfini, RIP.

Who do you think is the best Father in TV history, and why?

*=Don’t even mention Robert DeNiro in Analyze This, which was released two months after The Sopranos premiered, as he was just playing a hokey parody of a mobster.

My Secret Child

As you know, I am the proud father of an incredible 2-year-old. BC is the apple of my eye, the lint in my belly button and the Great Gazoo all rolled up into one.  He's fantastic. While I've been proud to brag about him and shared many tales about my life with him, I have a confession to make.  He's not my only child. 

When I met The Dudette in late 2002, she had just returned from grad school in The Big Easy. She loved New Orleans and her time there. One thing that she did not love, like most Americans, was 9/11. Being so far from home, she needed something to keep her safe during that uncertain time. She's not a firearms kind of gal, so she settled for the next best thing: a 2 pound Chihuahua named Zoey.

I’ll be honest, I am not a "dog person".  I would probably attribute that to the fact that as a kid one of my pals had these giant Boxers that would jump all over me every time I went to his house.  To a 5 or 6 year old, a Boxer is like a giraffe. That sent me down a path of anti-dogdom. Even today I still don’t really care for Snoopy.

When we first began dating I made it clear that I was not a dog person and didn't want to be one. Ever. When we would return to her house after an evening out, Zoey would run to the door, start crying, spin in circles and top the performance off by peeing on the floor. Oh yeah, I'm definitely not a dog person. 

As our relationship progressed, I could see that the dog was an issue. You see, for the first two years of our relationship, I never even touched the dog. Things got interesting, however, when we decided to move in together.


As a non-dog person, I wasn't sure how I would be able to adapt to something so radical. By the time we moved in together, Zoey was about 5 pounds, or roughly the size of a giant Chipotle burrito. Still it would be a big change for me. As time progressed I had become more accepting and accommodating of the dog.  Mainly to not rock the boat in the relationship. I still wasn't a big dog-petter, but sometimes I would stick out my index finger and let her give a lick, even though the thought of it made me want to vomit, kind of like Kathy Bates’ hot-tub scene in About Schmidt. I was always sure to immediately rush to the Purell bottle and douse my hands afterward.   

So when we moved in together I made a few ground rules when it came to the dog: 

• No dog on the bed. It's just gross. I don’t need that tuchus-scooter laying on my pillow. 
• No dog on the furniture. I didn't want little white hairs all over our brand new dark brown living room set. 
• I would not be responsible for collecting or disposing of any feces. Enough said.

Things went smoothly and the three of us got along in our new space. The dog had a bed in every room to alleviate the furniture issue, including right next to our bed. And the feces took care of themselves as far as I knew.

Everything changed, however, when The Dudette started working in the afternoons and evenings. Suddenly I had to take Zoey outside and give her dinner. Let's just say the dog and I worked out an amicable relationship. We were sort of like Al & Peggy Bundy. They would have both rather been with someone else, but they were stuck together and made the best of it. 

I guess I should tell you that Zoey is not like most other Chihuahuas, like the Taco Bell dog or the one from Legally Blonde. Or the loud annoying one your neighbor has that yips all night long. She usually sleeps about 23 hours a day. That was tolerable for me.

Fast forward a few years to when The Dudette was pregnant. One of my concerns about having a baby was dealing with the dog.  When the baby was due, Zoey had just turned 8 years old and was used to having the house to herself. Bring another little one into the house, however, and who knows what might happen. 

When we brought BC home from the hospital we quickly learned how the dog felt about the baby. We had quite a few visitors to meet BC. Every time someone came over, Zoey would go stand in front of BC like a bodyguard. Until she personally inspected each visitor with a sniff and a lick, no one was getting access to her new baby brother. She was sort of like the Secret Service guys who have to eat the President's food before he does to make sure it's not poisoned.

When BC began to crawl he was naturally interested in his walking stuffed animal.  After a couple days of tail grabbing we figured that if Zoey was tolerant of BC, she’d get a treat.  She's obviously a smart dog, because it only took her a couple times to figure out the pattern.  Soon after, we noticed that if BC crawled into the room then Zoey would go sit beside him.  She was willing to take the charge if it got her a little bite of rawhide heaven. Within hours she was flopping like a Kathryn Heigl movie.

Zoey then looks to my wife or me, like Kobe Bryant to a ref, to recognize the contact and call the foul, sending her to the Free Treat Line.  

If you asked me 10 years or more ago if I would ever have a dog, I would have laughed so hard I might have peed on the floor. I'll be honest, I still don't like any other dog on earth beside my own 10 year old step-dog. They're all too hyper, or drool too much or smell too bad.  If you are a dog lover and enjoy those traits, more power to you. I will stick to my unconventional family.  Until the day the dog poops in one of my shoes.  

Thanks for reading The Dude of the House. 

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