Honestly, it’s kinda wild that a show about a guy talking into his shoe is still a cultural touchstone. But here we are. Don Adams and his legendary run on Get Smart didn't just parody James Bond; they basically invented a new language for television comedy. Most people remember the bumbling, the nasal voice, and the "missed it by that much" hand gesture. Yet, if you look closer, there’s a whole lot of weirdness and actual genius behind how Donald James Yarmy became Maxwell Smart.
The guy who almost wasn't 86
You've probably heard that Don Adams was the only choice for the role. Not true. Not even close. Mel Brooks and Buck Henry actually wrote the pilot with Tom Poston in mind. ABC turned the show down, and when NBC picked it up, they basically forced Adams into the lead because he was already under contract with them.
He didn't even read the script at first. He just heard Brooks and Henry were involved and said yes. That’s a massive gamble that paid off in three consecutive Emmy Awards.
Adams wasn't some fresh-faced kid, either. By the time he donned the trench coat in 1965, he was a World War II Marine veteran who had survived the Battle of Guadalcanal and a nasty bout of blackwater fever. He’d spent a year in a Navy hospital in New Zealand. You can almost see that military discipline in Max’s rigid posture, even when he’s tripping over his own feet.
That voice was a recycled bit
The voice. That high-pitched, staccato delivery that everyone from your grandpa to Inspector Gadget tries to imitate. It wasn't something Adams "found" for the character. He’d been using a version of it for years in his stand-up acts and as a bumbling hotel detective named Byron Glick on The Bill Dana Show.
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The "Would you believe...?" routine actually started as a bit called The Bengal Lancers. Adams would play a captured officer trying to bluff his way out of trouble, progressively lowering his claims as his captors grew more skeptical. "Would you believe the entire 17th Bengal Lancers?" No? "How about Gunga Din on a donkey?"
It’s a masterclass in the comedy of desperation.
The Weird Reality of the Don Adams Get Smart Legacy
It’s easy to dismiss the show as just slapstick, but Don Adams took Get Smart very seriously. He eventually owned a third of the show and directed 13 episodes. He was known for being a bit of a perfectionist—or, as some might say, difficult on set.
In the early seasons, he and Barbara Feldon (Agent 99) weren't even that close. They’d show up, do the work, and go home. It took years for that famous chemistry to actually turn into a real-life friendship. And let’s be real: Agent 99 was the one doing all the actual spy work. Max was the "dummy," and he knew it. Adams once said in a 2002 interview that the whole show was basically based on the idea that women are intelligent and men are stupid.
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Gadgets that actually freaked out the FBI
Then you have the tech. The shoe phone is the obvious one, but the "Cone of Silence" is arguably the greatest visual gag in TV history. It never worked. They’d be standing three inches apart, screaming at each other because the plastic domes muffled everything.
Believe it or not, some of these gags hit a little too close to home. The FBI reportedly kept an eye on the show because some of the hidden microphones and disguised gadgets were surprisingly similar to actual surveillance tech being developed at the time.
The catchphrase curse
Success like that is a double-edged sword. After the show ended in 1970, Adams found himself deeply typecast. He tried a few other series, like The Partners, but nobody wanted to see him as anyone but Agent 86.
He eventually leaned into it with Inspector Gadget in the 80s. If you listen to the two characters side-by-side, Gadget is basically Max with more bionics and less common sense. It kept him relevant for a whole new generation of kids, but you could tell he felt the shadow of Maxwell Smart followed him everywhere.
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Why it still works
So, why do we still care? Why did a NASA crew in 1966 use the phrase "Sorry about that, Chief" when a urine bag exploded on Gemini VII?
Basically, it’s because Adams played the character with a weirdly relatable dignity. Max wasn't a loser; he was a guy who was incredibly confident in his own incompetence. We’ve all been there. We’ve all "missed it by that much."
Next steps for the fans:
- Re-watch the pilot: Look for the "Old Garbage Trick"—it’s the first time he uses the "Old [X] Trick" line, and it sets the tone for the entire series.
- Listen for the rhythm: Pay attention to the pauses in Adams’ delivery. His timing wasn't just fast; it was musical.
- Check out the 1989 TV movie: Get Smart, Again! is surprisingly better than you remember and handles the aging of the characters with a lot of heart.
- Skip the 1995 reboot: Unless you’re a completionist, the version with Andy Dick as Max’s son is mostly a footnote that lost the magic of the original run.