Ron Ely was huge. I don’t just mean he was a tall guy; he was a physical force that redefined what people thought a jungle lord should look like. When the Tarzan 1966 TV series first hit NBC, it felt like a jolt of electricity to a franchise that had grown a bit stale and predictable. For years, we’d been fed the "Me Tarzan, You Jane" trope—a monosyllabic, somewhat dim-witted brute who could barely string a sentence together. Then came the '66 show. It changed everything. This Tarzan wasn't just a guy in a loincloth; he was an educated, sophisticated man who had seen the world and chose the jungle anyway.
It’s honestly refreshing.
Most people don't realize how much of a departure this was from the Johnny Weissmuller era. Produced by Sy Weintraub, the show stripped away the bumbling sidekicks and the broken English. Instead, we got a Tarzan who was basically a globetrotting intellectual with a black belt in survival. He spoke multiple languages. He understood global politics. He chose the vines over the boardrooms. If you're looking for the definitive version of Edgar Rice Burroughs' vision, this might be the closest we ever got on the small screen.
The Ron Ely Factor: No Stunt Doubles, Just Scars
Ron Ely was a beast. Seriously.
One of the most legendary things about the Tarzan 1966 TV series is that Ely insisted on doing his own stunts. This sounds cool in a press release, but in reality, it was a total disaster for his health. During the two-season run, the man suffered a list of injuries that would make a stuntman retire. He was bitten by lions—plural. He broke his nose. He dislocated his shoulder. He even suffered a couple of fractured ribs and various muscle tears from swinging on vines that weren't exactly OSHA-certified.
You can actually see the physical toll on screen. There’s a grit to his performance that you can't fake with CGI or clever editing. When he looks exhausted, he’s probably actually bleeding. This wasn't some backlot production in Burbank; they filmed a huge chunk of it in Brazil and Mexico. The sweat is real. The bugs were real. The danger was definitely real.
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The show ran for 57 episodes from 1966 to 1968. It’s wild to think they crammed that much action into just two years. NBC eventually cancelled it because the production costs were astronomical. Filming on location with live animals and a lead actor who kept getting hospitalized isn't exactly a recipe for a low-budget hit. But while it was on, it was a ratings powerhouse that captured a very specific transition in American culture—moving from the campy fun of the early 60s to the more rugged, cynical realism of the late 60s.
Where is Jane?
If you grew up watching the old movies, the biggest shock of the Tarzan 1966 TV series was the total absence of Jane. She’s just gone. Not mentioned. Not waiting at home in a treehouse.
Weintraub decided that Jane made Tarzan too "domesticated." He wanted a lone wolf. A nomad. To fill the emotional gap, the writers introduced Jai, played by Manuel Padilla Jr. (who had actually appeared in Tarzan films before with Mike Henry). Jai was an orphan who became Tarzan’s ward. It gave the show a "father-son" dynamic that allowed for more teaching moments and higher stakes. If Tarzan is alone, he only has to save himself. If he has a kid to protect, the tension doubles.
The Politics of the Jungle
The 1960s were a messy time for depictions of Africa in media. Many shows from that era are, frankly, hard to watch today because of their patronizing or outright racist undertones. The Tarzan 1966 TV series isn't perfect, but it tried harder than most.
Because this Tarzan was a "modern" man—Lord Greystoke returned to his roots—the stories often involved him protecting indigenous tribes from Western exploitation. He fought off greedy poachers, corrupt government officials, and industrial spies. He was a mediator. He used his brain as much as his fists. It’s a subtle shift, but it moved Tarzan from being a "white king" trope toward being more of a jungle diplomat.
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- The Cheetah Factor: You can't talk about this show without mentioning the chimpanzee. Cheetah provided the comic relief, but even the chimp felt more like a partner than a pet.
- Guest Stars: The show was a magnet for talent. You had people like Julie Harris, George Kennedy, and even James Whitmore showing up.
- The Theme Music: Nelson Riddle (and later others) worked on the music. It had this driving, adventurous pulse that signaled exactly what kind of hour you were in for.
I think the reason people still hunt for bootleg DVDs of this show is that it feels "grown-up." It’s not a cartoon. It’s an adventure serial that treats its audience like they have a brain.
Why the Show Was Cancelled Too Soon
Money. It always comes down to money.
The Tarzan 1966 TV series was expensive. Like, really expensive. Filming in the rainforests of South America meant dealing with weather delays, tropical diseases, and the logistical nightmare of hauling 35mm cameras through the mud. By 1968, the costs were spiraling. Even though the show was doing well in the Nielsens, NBC saw the bill and blinked.
There’s also the Ron Ely factor again. The guy was falling apart. By the end of the second season, he was essentially a walking bruise. There’s a limit to how many lion bites a human being can take before their insurance company just says "no."
Interestingly, after the show was cancelled, it lived a long and healthy life in syndication. That’s where most Gen X-ers and older Millennials discovered it. On Saturday mornings or lazy Sunday afternoons, Ron Ely was the only Tarzan that mattered. He didn't look like a circus performer; he looked like a guy who could actually survive a week in the brush.
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Comparing the '66 Series to the Books
Edgar Rice Burroughs was often frustrated by how Hollywood handled his creation. He hated the "Me Tarzan" dialogue. He wanted his hero to be the articulate, multi-lingual polymath he wrote in Tarzan of the Apes.
The Tarzan 1966 TV series is arguably the most faithful adaptation of that character spirit, even if the plots were original for television. Ely played him with a certain brooding melancholy. You got the sense that he didn't hate civilization; he just found it loud and dishonest compared to the brutal honesty of the wild.
How to Watch the Tarzan 1966 TV Series Today
Tracking down this show can be a bit of a treasure hunt. It’s not always available on the big streaming giants like Netflix or Max. Usually, you’ll find it on "classic TV" networks like MeTV or Heroes & Icons.
Warner Archive released the series on DVD a few years back, which is the best way to see it. The colors are vibrant—that 60s Technicolor pop is something else—and you can really appreciate the cinematography of the location shoots. If you find it on a streaming service, make sure it’s the remastered version. The old broadcast tapes haven't aged well, but the film prints are gorgeous.
Basically, if you want to understand why Tarzan is still a household name 100 years later, skip the CGI Disney version for a minute. Go back to 1966. Look at Ron Ely staring down a real leopard without a green screen in sight. That’s the real deal.
Next Steps for Fans and Collectors
If you want to dive deeper into this specific era of adventure television, your best move is to look for the Warner Archive Collection DVD sets of Season 1 and Season 2. They are often out of print but show up on secondary markets. For a free alternative, check the programming schedules of MeTV or Pluto TV’s "Classic TV" channels, as they frequently rotate adventure serials from the 60s. Finally, if you're interested in the physical history of the show, search for "Ron Ely Tarzan injuries"—the documented list of what he survived on set is a fascinating, if slightly gruesome, testament to the era's dedication to practical filmmaking.