The American Family Robinson

From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence comes one of the most colorful figures of all time.

Transcribed from the immortal pan of Edgar Rice Burrows. Tarzan, the brown, white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burrows, the story of The American family, Robinson. Part of New York's teaming Manhattan.

George Robinson had always rebelled against the confinement of city life. He wanted to be able to see the open sky at night. Feel the earth beneath his feet. Find adventure. Thrilled with the excitement of travel.

But marriage and a couple of youngsters had managed to clip his wings. And it was 20 years before George Robinson managed to travel at all. When he did, he found scant satisfaction. No kidding, well I'm exhausted, taking that subway every night is plain murder.

Maybe we made a mistake moving to Jersey. Hmm, you want spaghetti tonight, macaroni tonight or macaroni tonight and spaghetti tomorrow night? Couldn't we have a steak or some chops one night? I wake pretty darn hard, and I'm getting sick.

We can't say it for that trip we're gonna take someday if we put every sent you earn in our stomachs. Yeah, yeah, I know. But no matter what we do, we never seem to be able to save enough to go anyplace really exciting.

Two weeks vacation in Atlantic City once a year. The kids don't mind, George. I don't mind. You don't? Well, I do. A guy has to have some incentive to keep him wakin' from nine to five, six days a week.