Decades may have passed since Three’s Company graced our screens, but its laughter still echoes in our hearts.
With unforgettable characters and side-splitting misunderstandings, this classic sitcom revolutionized the genre. Now, Joyce DeWitt reveals what really made the show a timeless treasure…
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From the hilarious antics of three single roommates to the unforgettable performances of John Ritter and Suzanne Somers, Three’s Company remains a beloved staple of American television. It’s hard to believe it’s been 40 years since the series finale aired on ABC, yet its charm and humor still resonate today.
To illustrate how long ago Three’s Company became a hit, I just watched the intro. Seeing the shots from Santa Monica Pier during the show’s prime reminds me of how much has changed since they filmed there.
Sadly, neither John Ritter nor Suzanne Somers are with us anymore; both were taken from us far too soon. But keeping the spirit of Three’s Company alive is Joyce DeWitt, 75, who shares her vibrant stories and cherished memories from the beloved show.
”The most dear, precious, tender – and utterly unexpected – experiences that have come from working in ‘Three’s Company’ are the many, many adults who have told me that ‘Three’s Company’ was a safe haven they could count on during their teen years – for some, the only safe haven,” Joyce DeWitt told US Weekly.
Joyce DeWitt circa 1978. (Photo by Images Press/IMAGES/Getty Images)
Starring as Janet Wood alongside John Ritter and Suzanne Somers, DeWitt became a television icon and she was such a day brightener for millions.
She appeared in 171 episodes of the show between 1976 and 1984.
“It was such a gift. I mean, it was iconic. But who would have thought it?” Joyce DeWitt told The Spec. “All we were trying to do was make people laugh. When I think about it, the show was really an attempt to do a contemporary version of a 16th-century farce. It was about silliness running wild. I mean, we were talking about serious issues at times, but that was always somewhere underneath.”
“John Ritter used to say, ‘We don’t want people to just laugh but to fall over their couch laughing,’” she added. “The real issue was always the depth of friendship and the love those characters had for each other. That’s what drew people to them.”
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After Three’s Company ended, DeWitt stepped away from the spotlight for over a decade before making her comeback to acting.
Yet, no matter what she has accomplished or plans to do in the future, the vast majority will always connect her with that iconic show. And there’s a very simple reason for that, according to DeWitt.
“It was a ‘time out’ from the oppressive, challenging, difficult circumstances they were navigating in their young lives,” DeWitt says and adds:
“And, oh by the way, they say the characters also did stupid, crazy stuff that made them laugh. But it was the love, trust and support of the characters, one to the other, that made them lifelong fans.”
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When you look at unedited photos from the Three’s Company set, the camaraderie among the cast shines through, especially in the images of Joyce DeWitt and Suzanne Somers, who played the beloved Chrissy Snow.
Both actresses delivered iconic performances, portraying young women navigating a male-dominated industry. They contributed just as much to the show’s success as John Ritter, and in those early days, their smiles in photos tell a story of friendship and collaboration.
Yet, beneath the laughter, tensions simmered. While Somers was celebrated for her role as “the dumbest blonde in America,” her fight for equal pay created rifts that would grow over time. As she demanded a 500% salary increase — from $30,000 to $150,000 — her relationship with DeWitt became strained. The set, once filled with joy, was now fraught with conflict.
My Rich Husband Forbade Me from Entering One Room in Our House – I Could Not Stop Crying When I Saw What He Was Hiding
When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.
Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.
Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.
My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.
“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.
That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.
Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.
He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.
“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”
“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.
I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.
“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”
I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.
A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.
Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
A quick in and out, I thought to myself.
Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.
The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.
“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”
Robert’s face turned red with rage.
“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”
Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.
“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”
Robert led me to the living room.
“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.
My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.
What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.
In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.
In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.
Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.
We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.
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