In the world of television, the arrival of summer used to signify reruns. In the real world, summer makes me think of the beach. On the TV front now, summer is more about short-run series and reality shows, most of which just make me appreciate the return of reruns. What better way to celebrate the season and its television than by entering the land of classic TV and find the ultimate party? I'm diving into the rerun universe in search of the best beach experiences.

When searching for fun, one character comes to mind: notorious party animal Howard Sprague, the man who once made Mayberry go wild by staying up till 12:17. That's A.M., folks. In Howard's New Life from season 4 of The Andy Griffith Show, the beloved county clerk indulges in one of his typically raucous pastimes, sponging a free meal off Andy, when he is reminded that even Aunt Bee's cooking has a price. In this case, the cost is having to endure one of Bee's travel programs on the tube.

Yet the program doesn't lull Howard to sleep -- Bee's lard- and carb-heavy feast will do that later -- but entrances him with breathtaking stock footage of Caribbean islands. After seeing this single half hour of television, Sprague decides to quit his job, empty his piggy bank, get a plane ticket, and become a beachcomber on a secluded island. Thank goodness Aunt Bee's favorite show isn't Friday Night at the Fights!

After a heartfelt sendoff from the Taylors, Goober, and Emmett--all of whom are baffled by why anyone would want to leave Mayberry--Howard settles in on his own private strip of beach, armed with everything he needs: A spiffy new pair of white pants and a captain's hat. As soon as he remembers to take the tag off the pants, he's King of the Beach at 'St. Benedict.' If you're wondering, I can't find that island on my map of the Caribbean, either. It's hard to believe a real location turned down a chance to associate its tourism industry with Howard Sprague. Maybe everyone was holding out for Floyd the Barber.

Howard's joy at being free from the hustle and bustle of Mayberry lasts about two minutes, which includes hammock trouble, a fishing mishap, and an ill-fated attempt at playing bongos. Just when I'm starting to suspect this isn't going to be the ultimate beach party after all, Howard shakes things up by putting on a pair of blue shorts. When even that fails to give him a jolt, he makes his way to the local general store, where the proprietor is Harry Dean Stanton and the locals seem addled by -- well, let's give the benefit of the doubt and say they've been out in the sun too long. Stanton is too busy swatting flies to roll out the Welcome Wagon for the community's new member, and the store patrons make the gang at Emmett's Fix-It Shop look like the Algonquin Round Table.

An attempt to buddy up to the islanders by inviting them to swim or play bongos goes so badly it gives our hero nightmares. Seeing what happened to these beach bums after years of island life produces a horrible vision of Howard Sprague gone to seed. In this terrifying dream, he's unshaven, shaking, and worst of all, he lost his captain's hat.

Howard returns home, where his prestigious clerk job is somehow still open, and everything's back to normal. Goober can't fathom the whole thing, but Andy sort of admires a fella that had a dream and went after it: 'A fella like that's kind of lived a little, no' The profound bit of wisdom elicits a response that proves philosophy ain't lost on ol' Goob: 'I guess.' The end of Howard's New Life is either a poignant reaffirmation of Howard's satisfaction with his station in life, or depressing proof of the virtual prison Mayberry is to its inhabitants. Either way, it's not the ultimate beach party.

I think the problem is, Howard went to the beach all by himself. It's time to try another sitcom, one not burdened with homespun philosophy and life lessons, one with a whole family of fun-loving summer adventurers. Check out The Munsters episode, Herman, the Master Spy. For its beach trip, the clan is decked out in its best summertime duds. Even Grandpa is in the spirit, sporting what every student of pop culture knows is the essential gear: a full-body swimsuit with gigantic horizontal stripes.

Herman goes to do a little scuba diving after everyone on the beach runs off to do a little pastime called “getting the heck away from the monsters.” Personally, I believe at least some of the guys would stick around to gaze at Marilyn, but the place is empty. Even Herman is soon missing. He's picked up by a Russian trawler and starts mingling with the crew. What follows is a funny spoof on Cold War tensions. Unfortunately, the Russkies don't even take Herman to Sochi for a Soviet-style beach wingding, and the rest of the family goes home, ending the party before it begins.

After that disappointment, I'm going for a show I know always gives me sunshine and sand: Hawaii Five-O. Season 1's Yesterday Died and Tomorrow Won't Be Born seems like a great place for some summer merriment. The episode starts with McGarrett jogging on the beach. You hear the waves lapping against the sand, and you can practically feel the refreshing breeze. In fact, the clever use of POV camera angles make you feel like you are right there. This is what I was looking for! How great would it be running on that gorgeous beach like McGarrett? It would feel great to get a workout while catching some sun, feeling the sand on your feet, getting shot in the chest...

Wait--shot in the chest? Those POV shots were of a sniper waiting for a clean shot! McGarrett, being one tough son of a gun, takes a few bullets, but also gets steps toward his assailant before collapsing. This is a solid episode, with Dan-O and the gang pulling out all the stops to find and apprehend the would-be assassin, but as a beach party, this is the biggest bummer yet.

I'm toning it down with a less violent program. I'm no expert on The Flying Nun, but I'm almost certain no episodes feature Sally Field being shot on the beach by a vengeful shadowy figure from the past. No, The Flying Nun is a gentle, pleasant comedy offering more smiles than laughter, more amusement than excitement. That doesn't sound like a recipe for groovy beach antics, but I'll give Love Me, Love My Dog a chance. The nuns are taking some of the children for what promises to be a thrilling event: A weenie roast!

The kids are dressed in entirely inappropriate duds for the occasion, but it's not like there's a Tommy Bahama right next door to the Convent San Tanco, so I'll overlook that. Besides, the children are enthusiastic. However, all it takes is one scrappy dog to distract them. Soon the picnic baskets are ignored for a spirited game of fetch. What follows, as we learn more about the dog and one of the children, is much like the series as a whole: Amiable, inoffensive, and not at all memorable.

Watching The Flying Nun reminds me of another iconic character from a short-lived series, an almost impossibly cute, diminutive figure who stole many hearts over the years. I'm talking about someone known for an affinity with water, someone who enjoyed the protection and guidance of a strong father figure...I'm talking, naturally, about Yakky Doodle.

In Beach Brawl, originally part of The Yogi Bear Show, the adorable duck is at the beach with canine pal Chopper, hoping for a day of R&R because 'even watchdogs have days off.' A cartoon beach is the place for me. Maybe I'm easily amused, but the sight of a dog putting suntan lotion on himself puts me in a good mood.

If only Fibber Fox weren't on the scene to cause trouble. As Yakky takes his inflatable horsey out into the water (swimming would be too much like work to a duck, I guess), Fibber grabs him with a fishing rod, then runs after him on the beach. Yakky does what any self-respecting duck would do: He gets Chopper to go throttle the fox. Fibber spends the rest of Beach Brawl getting kicked, launched into the sky, and pursued by an amorous shark. You'd think at some point this guy would give up on the duck dinner and hit the boardwalk for fries and a funnel cake.

The episode ends well for Chopper and Yakky, who laugh and grill some fish. Does Chopper hold the moral high ground here for eating non-sentient fish (perhaps he bought them at the supermarket on the way over to the beach instead of scooping them out of the ocean) while Fibber earns our scorn for chasing a precious talking duck? This cartoon raises some compelling moral questions. I think I'll let the likes of Sheriff Andy Taylor answer them; I'm still looking for some good, clean fun.

I just realized there is another iconic sixties TV character with ties to The Flying Nun: Gidget! Yes, good ol' Sally Field is cute as a button, and her pre-Nun show is all about the beach, surf culture and everything else Brian Wilson wrote about. I check out the pilot episode, Dear Diary, Et Al.

We see some surfing action early on, as Jeff teaches Gidg about balance. We also see glimpses of wonderful summer activities like beach volleyball. Aside from overexertion in the blazing sun, the possibility of tearing an ACL, and the inevitable collision of the ball with some unsuspecting player's face, what's not fun about beach volleyball?

Unfortunately, Diary devolves into a study of teen angst involving Gidget's private journal, her relationship with her father and sister, and her pining away for Jeff. And what to make of this guy, anyway? His nickname is 'Moondoggie,' which is a red flag in itself. Anyone with that moniker should be hanging out on Hanna-Barbera Beach with Yakky Doodle, not spending his summer break from Princeton cavorting with a 15-1/2-year old. Gidget does admit that she claimed she's 16, but still...

If that isn't bad enough, about halfway through the episode, Gidget goes to the beach to spy on her crush and finds him sitting on a towel playing...Is that a recorder? Maybe it's a flute, but it may very well be a recorder. Guitars on a beach are almost essential, ukeleles are fine, even a harmonica is a nice complement to a summer romp. But a recorder? Give me a break! I quickly lose interest in partying with this group. Gidget and Moondoggie deserve each other.

Perhaps I can find something better in Surfin' Fred from Season 5 of The Flintstones. This episode shares many elements with Surf Bored: Surfing, music, teenagers...and all with the mellifluous tones of Alan Reed as Fred. Special Guest Star Jimmy Darrock (voiced by James Darren) is a harried pop idol looking for some peace and quiet. He attempts to seclude himself by posing as a lifeguard at Rock Island (Don't ask; if you can accept the basic premise of The Flintstones, you can accept this plot), where the Flintstones and the Rubbles happen to be vacationing.

Now, I admit Rock Island doesn't sound like the ideal spot for a beach party -- it sounds more like a place you'd serve 30-to-life -- but it's a happening spot. Careless Fred schedules his trip for the same weekend as the resort's big surfing contest. There is no peace and quiet at Rock Island, but there is the thrill of frenetic surf rock. Of course, Fred is at the heart of it all, taking his turn on the board and showing off his dance moves for the kids. The only thing detracting from the atmosphere is Fred's tendency to get stuck in the ocean, necessitating a rescue from the annoyed Darrock, who would prefer to sit in his lifeguard chair and count his royalties.

The Flintstones almost provides the ultimate beach party I seek, but something is still missing. Has my TV tour been for naught? Where is the pure, unadulterated fun I remember from the Hollywood beach movies of the 1960s? Could it possibly be that movies can do something television CAN'T? I refuse to believe that, at least not while I have one more stop on my tour.

The Monkees at the Movies from Season 1 of The Monkees. We're off and running when a movie producer (Jerry Lester) spots the boys on the beach and, impressed with their energy and antics, invites them to be extras in his latest film. Davy, Michael, Mickey, and Peter appear in a new epic starring Frankie Catalina--Bobby Sherman doing a hilarious send-up of a contemporary movie star who was no stranger to the sun. Catalina's obnoxious behavior irritates the Monkees into seeking revenge. They change his makeup so he looks like a teenage werewolf. Then they change the cue cards just before his scene. They even commit the most devastating crime of all to any egocentric young movie star: altering the dailies.

Finally, the ultimate TV beach party! I realize what I found missing from the other episodes: frolicking. The Monkees seem to be having a great time even when they're miserable. They make me laugh just scampering around at super speed (to be fair, I 'm pretty sure that's a special effect and not the Monkees actual scampering speed). Just look at what the DVD calls the 'music videos' in each episode: 'Romps.' It's impossible to suppress a smile when you're watching a romp. Because there are so many hijinks going on, Mike Nesmith even makes a wool cap look like a vital beach accessory. Incidentally, the Monkees may not have played all their instruments on all their recordings, but they never sat on a towel in the middle of the beach and played woodwinds.

To think I almost doubted the power of television! By not only proving Hollywood isn't the only place to find summertime beach fun, but by mocking the movies that do so, The Monkees show us that everything we need is right there in the world of classic TV if we look hard enough.

Rick Brooks is the proprietor of Cultureshark, a blog in which he uses an often irreverent approach to express his reverence for the classics and the un-classics.