live audience, as the show is performed straight through. The audience's reaction, some- times "sweetened" by prere- corded merriment, takes the place of a laugh track. "Molly Dodd" and "'Slap' Maxwell," however, are filmed much like a motion picture, in separate takes. "When I think of our show, I don't think of it as episodic television," says Roz Doyle, a producer on both Tarses shows. "I think of them as small films." Producing a show this way is more cost- ly and time-consuming-five days to shoot a half-hour show instead of one day-but it gives the program a more natural look. That's why all of this sea- son's dramatic comedies are produced in this way. Jay Tarses sits alone in his office. On his desktop are a va- riety of gewgaws-a Ted Wil- liams baseball card, a dart gun, a translucent green bar of soap that comes from Blair Brown's dressing-room shower. He writes evenly on a legal pad with a felt-tip pen, pausing ev- ery so often to revise. This is the first draft of a "Molly" script. Next to the pad is a word-pro- cessed excerpt from another script; the top two-thirds have been crossed out in pink ink and the bottom third has been rewritten in light blue ink. When Tarses and Brush talk about the writing they do for "Molly" and "'Slap'," they use the term "mystical." Tarses says he doesn't know why "Molly". works. Brush says he "doesn't feel responsible" for some of the things his characters do. Both writers identify with the characters so strongly that they believe the charac- ters take over the writing. Undoubtedly, this is why the two Tarses shows have such an idiosyncratic tang. And it helps to explain why nearly everything on the shows is written by Tarses and Brush. With few exceptions, even shows that credit other writers are heavily rewritten by one or the other. Tarses is a man with strong convictions, and this has sometimes caused hard feel- ings. "Jay has always been a guy who has his own particular vision and doesn't let anything get in the way of it," says Allan Burns, the cocreator of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" and an old friend. "He comes on real tough, real stern with network guys," says Bernie Brillstein, "because he cares about what he's doing." Tarses comes into a network meeting, says Brandon Tar- tikoff, "the way other people go to the den- tist-preparing to deal with a lot of pain." Both Tarses and Brush speak of being on "a mission." Tarses grins when he says, "We're messianic, but we're friendly." Despite having two shows in production, Tarses is cautious about his chances for long-term success. He is not about to give up on TV, though, even after receiving movie offers. "Television gets done. You do a show and you finish it and it goes on the air," he says. "I just don't think I could ever get what I would need creatively in the movie business. I can get it in television." At the moment he's happy. He and his wife of 25 years, Rachel, live in a nice L.A. sub- urb, Woodland Hills. His daughter Jamie, 23, works with current NBC comedy series. Another daughter, Mallory, 21, is a junior at Brown. And a son, Matt, 19, is a sopho- more at Williams. Tarses likes to collect baseball cards and bric-a-brac, and he plays slow-pitch softball on Sundays. But, most- ly, he works. "You know," he confesses, "this is pretty much all I do." Exactly 10 minutes away from the ugly gray building is a forgettable red-brick building. Also in North Hollywood. Soon they'll shoot "MollyDodd"here because the gray buildingcanonly handleoneshow. The red-brick building sits between a manufac- turerofwhirlpool baths anda warehouse for film-editing equipment. "Deeper," Jay Tarses says, "in the bowels of hell." On the set: Beth Hillshafer (left) directs NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUS 11 PHOTOS BY ART STREIBER Putting it together: Tarses and editor Paul Anderson