It was a golden age for TV private eyes, a period that began in the late 40s and ended with Magnum in Hawaii (80s), outlasting even the western. And of all the snoopers, with their ecclectic operatives and car chases and gun play and angry cops and distressed damsels and happy endings, there was one PI who stood out from the rest, one like we'd never seen before or since: James Scott Rockford.
Created by Roy Huggins (Fugitive) & Stephen Cannell (RipTide) who wrote most of its episodes, Rockford was a graduate of San Quentin, summa cum pardon, and passed on Dad's big rig dream to instead work from his Malibu, beachside trailer (29 Cove Rd) as a licensed private investigator. Charging "$200 a day plus expenses," he usually sported a checkered coat when not fishing or at a ball game. An instinct for self-preservation, Jim put life & limb on the line nearly every episode to foil the crooks and, not infrequently, bail out the brass. He saw action in Korea yet kept his heater in a cookie jar, had a code, was civic minded (The Deuce), didn't take active police cases but would do almost anything for money "except kill or marry for it." And unlike most gumshoes, macho and dull as dry toast (Mannix was cool), Jim was a real person: he ate food ("taco king"), slept, when the cops weren't rousting him or thugs dropping grenades down his vent, liked the ladies, the luck (gambling), had his "share of mouth (Agent Shore)," a top lawyer (Beth), best car skills on the Coast (copper mist Firebird), hippest friends in LA's finest (Becker Billings Coop), grifters (Angel Mark), escorts (Charlie Rita), fellow PIs (Selleck Whitmore Little Oakland Powers Gossett), some of Hollywood's biggest stars (Bacall Cooper Strasberg Woods Hartley Towers Cotten Stewart Reiner Brady Fix DeCamp Duff Elizondo) and best of all, like dad Rocky, he'd the biggest of hearts (Family Hour). He also had the best 70s gadgets in the business, including the world's most famous answering machine, a different caller message to precede each episode. Esther (To Protect & Serve): "Alright, so you helped me move in, but you couldn't call, see how I was doing, maybe see if there was some painting to do (oy vey)!?"
A TV trailblazer on race (Stevenson Shigeta Hayes) and age (Beery Brocco Burr), Files storylines would presage coming trends in militia (Canoga Park), hippie burnout {Quickie Nirvana}, psychics (Oracle} & gay awareness (Empty Frame), while its staff regularly included artists of color (Johnson {p} Dixon {d}) and women (Bartlett (w) Rosenberg {p}). That The Rockford Files (74-80) and its producer David Chase's later familial mob opera, The Sopranos (99-07), were about the only things my dad and I enjoyed together, makes the show that more special to this critic. Had David's third TV gem, the quirky to profound Alaskan dreamland, Northern Exposure (90-95), not had such an oddball opening motif, dad and I may've had a whole different ending (4/4).
Created by Roy Huggins (Fugitive) & Stephen Cannell (RipTide) who wrote most of its episodes, Rockford was a graduate of San Quentin, summa cum pardon, and passed on Dad's big rig dream to instead work from his Malibu, beachside trailer (29 Cove Rd) as a licensed private investigator. Charging "$200 a day plus expenses," he usually sported a checkered coat when not fishing or at a ball game. An instinct for self-preservation, Jim put life & limb on the line nearly every episode to foil the crooks and, not infrequently, bail out the brass. He saw action in Korea yet kept his heater in a cookie jar, had a code, was civic minded (The Deuce), didn't take active police cases but would do almost anything for money "except kill or marry for it." And unlike most gumshoes, macho and dull as dry toast (Mannix was cool), Jim was a real person: he ate food ("taco king"), slept, when the cops weren't rousting him or thugs dropping grenades down his vent, liked the ladies, the luck (gambling), had his "share of mouth (Agent Shore)," a top lawyer (Beth), best car skills on the Coast (copper mist Firebird), hippest friends in LA's finest (Becker Billings Coop), grifters (Angel Mark), escorts (Charlie Rita), fellow PIs (Selleck Whitmore Little Oakland Powers Gossett), some of Hollywood's biggest stars (Bacall Cooper Strasberg Woods Hartley Towers Cotten Stewart Reiner Brady Fix DeCamp Duff Elizondo) and best of all, like dad Rocky, he'd the biggest of hearts (Family Hour). He also had the best 70s gadgets in the business, including the world's most famous answering machine, a different caller message to precede each episode. Esther (To Protect & Serve): "Alright, so you helped me move in, but you couldn't call, see how I was doing, maybe see if there was some painting to do (oy vey)!?"
A TV trailblazer on race (Stevenson Shigeta Hayes) and age (Beery Brocco Burr), Files storylines would presage coming trends in militia (Canoga Park), hippie burnout {Quickie Nirvana}, psychics (Oracle} & gay awareness (Empty Frame), while its staff regularly included artists of color (Johnson {p} Dixon {d}) and women (Bartlett (w) Rosenberg {p}). That The Rockford Files (74-80) and its producer David Chase's later familial mob opera, The Sopranos (99-07), were about the only things my dad and I enjoyed together, makes the show that more special to this critic. Had David's third TV gem, the quirky to profound Alaskan dreamland, Northern Exposure (90-95), not had such an oddball opening motif, dad and I may've had a whole different ending (4/4).
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