The wholesomely pornographic Robin Byrd sued Time Warner to keep her show on the air
‘Mr. Rogers meets Debbie Does Dallas’
The camera slithers over a pair of prostrate legs that glimmer with sheen. Her white fingernails trace a kneecap, tickle a tan thigh. She flips the side of her thong panties to reveal smooth, hairless skin. A belly chain twinkles underneath her breasts, which she’s tucked into a black crochet bra.
“Hi, I’m Robin Byrd, and welcome to The Robin Byrd Show,” she smiles and flips her bottle-blonde hair. Her chunky bangs curl over her eyes. She applies gobs of frosty lip gloss. “I want you to lie back, get comfortable, and snuggle up next to your loved one. And if you don’t have a loved one, remember you always have me, Robin Byrd!”
What made her famous, to some, wasn’t necessarily her body or the queue of porn stars, strippers, and D-list celebrities who snuggled on screen. It was the fact that all of this appeared on local access television in New York, one of the few cities deemed “adult” enough for women’s nipples — after midnight, of course.
Byrd started as a porn star, and even had a role in the classic Debbie Does Dallas. She also co-hosted a local program called Hot Leggs, but when she found herself hosting solo in 1977, the eponymous show was born.
The Robin Byrd Show offered a kicky, friendly approach to sex. Byrd was charming, if a little ditzy.
“I tried a computer dating service,” drag queen and Dame Edna impersonator confides in one episode.
“Yeah?” says Byrd.
“And it worked. After one week, I was dating a Macintosh.”
Byrd cackles toward the ceiling.
“But you know what?” asks Dame Edna. “We broke up. We weren’t compatible.”
More laughing.
Dame Edna wore long sleeves and a prim grey wig, unusual for a show used to red latex thigh-highs and greasy pecs.
It was the height of the Golden Age of Porn, and the U.S. Supreme Court decision in Miller v. California had just eased the definition of obscenity in 1973. Porn stars often reached mainstream celebrity, and films were legitimately critiqued for their production value.
But the point of The Robin Byrd Show wasn’t simply titillation. The host’s progressive approach to diverse sexual experiences was ahead of its time, even if it seemed accidental. Byrd invited lesbian women to talk about sex, and instructed how to make DIY dental dams. As the AIDS crisis took hold in the early 1980s, she routinely cautioned viewers to “wear your rubbers.”
“I got tired of seeing what’s on television and I was tired of people putting down porn,” she told The New York Times in 2012. “And putting down gay. Why? We’re human.”
Production was obviously low-budget, which meant the occasional slip-up or awkward pause went unedited. But all its local-access awkwardness added to the show’s genuineness and humanity. It took away the taboo.
“She brought it into everyone’s home and she put a girl-next-door face on it,” said gossip columnist Michael Musto. “Her show never seemed the slightest bit dirty. It was a little like Mr. Rogers meets Debbie Does Dallas.”
All of its bumbling candor made the show ripe for a Saturday Night Live parody. In 1997, Cheri Oteri bobbled onto a red studio set clad in Byrd’s signature crochet bikini top. The famous heart-shaped neon blinked in the background. Oteri exaggerated the host’s delightful pauses and grins. It was a meaningful tribute only New Yorkers would fully appreciate.At the time, however, Byrd was embroiled in a long-running lawsuit with Time Warner. For years, the cable giant had attempted to scramble access to programming it deemed profane. It argued that subscribers should have to write in and request access to shows with adult content. In 1996 the case was brought before United States Supreme Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, which ruled Time Warner’s request unconstitutional.
By that time, the case had exhausted Byrd: “It took the wind out of me.” She retired from the show two years later.
Byrd was still a local celebrity, though. When she wasn’t pictured with Michael Bloomberg or interviewing porn stars like Buck Angel, she hosted “biggest bulge” contests at Fire Island Pines, a gay summer destination where she also owns a home. She operated a popular phone sex line and produced adult ringtones. And in 2012 she resurrected a live version of The Robin Byrd Show in Manhattan.
If you’re still skeptical, reruns appear on New York City local cable to this day — unedited and unscrambled.
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