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Jim Rockford (The Rockford Files)

kevinburtonsmith

Created By Roy Huggins And Stephen J. Cannell

“This is Jim Rockford. At the tone, leave your name and number. I’ll get back to you…”

So began each weekly episode of The Rockford Files, which aired from 1974 to 1980 on NBC, certainly the most beloved private eye series to ever grace the television screen, and arguably one of the greatest private eyes of all time. In fact, by the time CBS was promoting one of the made-for-television movies that followed years later, ol’ Jimbo was being called “America’s favorite private eye.”

Not bad for a guy who would probably still rather go fishing.

Mind you, having the lead played by handsome, affable James Garner, one of America’s most popular film and television actors — and actually building the character around him — certainly didn’t hurt in initially attracting viewers.

Just as co-creator Roy Huggins playfully sent up the conventions of the western genre in his classic TV series Maverick (which also starred Garner) in the fifties, so did he wreak havoc on the P.I. genre with The Rockford Files. Where other gumshoes were courageous loners fighting for justice and honour, obsessed with discovering the truth, JIM ROCKFORD was a semi-cowardly con artist with a gift for gab who would rather go fishing. And he was always being nagged by his father to get a real job.

This was not your average TV private eye.

He kept his gun in a cookie jar (“I don’t shoot it, I just point it”), and a small press in the backseat of his gold Firebird to print instant business cards to go with his numerous aliases and scams. He lived in a battered trailer on the beach, first at 2354 Pacific Coast Highway in LA, and later at 29 Cove Road in Malibu (and thus set the precedent for “cute” living arrangements for TV eyes — blame Rockford for Magnum’s mansion and Spenser’s firehouse). He was a Korean War vet who’d served five years of a twenty-year sentence at San Quentin, before the discovery of new evidence earned him a full pardon. Upon his release, he set up shop as a P.I., originally only taking cases the police had given up on.

But what really set Rockford apart was his large circle of friends and associates, each as finely etched and endearing as Rockford was. They weren’t a bunch of only-on-television self-consciously quirky “types” — they were real people whose eccentricities were an offshoot of their characters, not a add-on dreamed up by a committee.

Of course, there was his dad, Rocky (played by Noah Berry, Jr.) , a crusty, cranky semi-retired trucker, always worrying. The warm but fractious relationship between father and son was one of the foundations of the show, and became a recurring theme in many of Cannell’s subsequent series.

Jim’s lawyer, and on again/off again love interest Beth Davenport appeared for the first four seasons, offering Jim advice and, often, cases he would have run screaming from had she not been there to cajole him.

Constantly beleagured LAPD Sergeant (later Lieutenant) Dennis Becker was the mandatory police contact, but his friendship with Jim was more than a token, never-seen allusion. There was no doubt they were friends, frequently bickering, but ultimately true pals. Actor Joe Santos has since appeared in about a million movies and TV shows, almost always as a cop, it seems.

Not that Rockford was in with the cops–Dennis’ boss, Lieutenant Doug Chapman took care of that. A preening, strictly-by-the-book prig, he was always looking for a way to put Rockford in his place–which, if he had his druthers, would be a jail cell.

And speaking of hoosegows, there’s Angel, Jim’s former cellmate, always on the con, constantly scheming, looking for the perpetual big score which inevitably blows up in his face, played to weasel-like perfection by Stuart Margolin. Cowardly (he makes Jim look like Hercules), venal, selfish, without any redeeming qualities to speak of except, perhaps, his overpowering drive to survive, a suckerfish trying to swim with the sharks, Jim nonetheless remains loyal to him throughout the series. Margolin, a talented actor/director, lurked around Hollywood for a few years after the show wrapped, but after eventually pulled up stakes and moved to British Columbia, where he went on to star in another memorable — if far less successful — private eye series, the CBC’s Mom P.I.

But Angel wasn’t the only friend Rockford remained loyal to throughout the series: Isaac Hayes, for example, appeared three times as tough-talking and hot-tempered Gandolph Fitch, the one-time “Hammer of C Block,” who never could get Rockford’s name right; John, a former outlaw biker turned criminal lawyer, who replaced Beth as Jim’s lawyer and Meghan, a blind psychologist, fiercely independant and, it seemed for a while, Jim’s one true love.

Another notable recurring guest was streetwise hardluck hooker Rita Capkovic, determine to go straight, who came to Rockford for help three times. Actress Rita Moreno won an Emmy for the character’s first appearance, “The Paper Palace” (Jan. 20, 1978).

As well, a goodly number of fellow private eyes, each one of them stranger than the last, kept crossing Rockford’s path. As Maverick had done for the classic western, The Rockford Files regularly turned and twisted the conventions of the P.I. story back upon themselves to point up some of the absurdities behind the genre’s assumptions. These guest investigators were ideal for just that purpose.

The most prominent of this bunch was Richie Brockelman, played by Dennis Dugan. Brockelman was an eager beaver rookie investigator who actually took over the Rockford time slot for his own five-episode series in the spring of 1978. That show wasn’t strictly a spin-off, however, since Richie was first introduced in an earlier 1976 two-hour movie. His first appearance on The Rockford Files a few years later, “The House on Willis Avenue” (February 24, 1978), was primarily intended to build an audience for the Richie Brockelman, Private Eye series. Obviously, that didn’t work out, but Brockelman returned for a second appearance, “Never Send a Boy King To Do a Man’s Job” (March 3, 1979).

But the most memorable P.I. to visit the show by far was undoubtedly Lance White, the rich, elegant, and flawless male model private eye; the walking cliche who drove Rockford crazy. White debuted in “White on White and Nearly Perfect” (October 20, 1978) and made a comeback in “Nice Guys Finish Dead” (November 16, 1979). This latter took place at a private eyes’ awards dinner, and is a real hoot. The relatively unknown actor who did such a fine comic turn as White proved to have a future in the TV P.I. business– his name was Tom Selleck. He starred in Magnum P.I., a show that owed more than a little to The Rockford Files, although it’s always seemed to me that Thomas Magnum was essentially Lance White with the wink whited out.

The Rockford Files wasn’t perfect, mind you. The plots often centered around intricate conspiracies and were often just too damned convoluted and confusing to be satisfactorily resolved within an hour-long TV program, resulting in some occasionally jaw-dropping, head-spinning wrap-ups. And other shows were padded out by a few too many car chases. Still, it should be said that even the occasional wham-bam endings and car chases were typically clever and well-done, a definite cut above the rest. And hey, it’s better to reach high and fail than to succeed week after week at being mediocre, and if car nut James Garner liked cars and wanted car chases, well, that seemed like a small price to pay in exchange for arguably the best private eye series to ever air.

Still, despite the great cast, a lot of the show’s success boiled down simply to the writing. Huggins and Cannell set the pace, but they assembled a fine pool of writers, with input from some serious outliers, including Juanita Bartlett and David Chase, who went on to create The Sopranos. Even old pro Leigh Brackett wrote one episode, and another was based on a Howard Browne novel.

All good things, however, must come to an end.

Unfortunately, the show took its toll on Garner, who had insisted on performing most of his own stunts. It went into hiatus late in 1979 when Garner, suffering from knee injuries and back trouble, as well as an ulcer, was told by his doctors to give it a rest. Garner pulled the plug, and NBC cancelled the program in the middle of its sixth season.

THE RETURN OF ROCKFORD

In 1995, CBS brought back Rockford in a string of eight made-for-television movies that managed to capture much of the charm, if not the energy, of the original series. Alas, Noah Beery Jr., who played Jim’s caring, overly-protective truck-driver dad, Rocky, was missing, having passed away before production began. The first, 1994’s “I Still Love L.A.,” was dedicated to his memory, a decidedly classy and respectful touch.

Then again, Rockford always had his priorities straight. The simple pleasures of friendship and family were what he has always been about. Oh and a little fishing.

By the time Rockford these films were made, Garner was getting a tad long in the tooth. But, to their credit, the writers and directors never tried to hide his age or his limitations. In each of the films, the passage of time became a major plot hook. The past always came calling, usually in the guise of old pals in trouble, and Rockford, with an exasperated sigh, a grimace and a grunt, would once more try to help them out.

This was honest television, done with sensitivity and style; not some cranked-out soulless, movie-of-the-week cash cow rehash of some old show, bearing view traces of the original.

But with so many great actors reprising their original roles and so many loose ends from the original series being tied up, there was a warm sense of homecoming and continuity about the whole affair. Over the course of the films, we caught up with most of the old crew: Dennis, Rita, Beth, and of course, Angel. No surprise, I guess: loyalty meant something to Rockford. And, by all accounts, Garner himself.

The Rockford movies may also have been the first time we’ve seen an elderly version of a private eye we already knew and loved. Fortunately, our memories of the original show were treated with dignity and respect, a true rarity when it comes to TV “revivals.” A true class act.

In 1996, perhaps inspired by the TV movies, Forge published The Green Bottle, an original Rockford novel, set in the nineties, by Stuart Kaminsky, author of the Toby Peters P.I. series. Kaminsky pulled it off admirably, allowing us to get into Jim’s head, through first person narration. Turns out Rockford was as appealing a character on the inside, cranky but easy-going, as he was on the outside. A follow-up novel, Devil On My Doorstep, was released in 1998.

There were eight made-for-TV movies in all, but they never quite caught the public’s attention the way the original series, by then in heavy rotation through syndication, was. The last one aired in 1999.

Since then, there have been several attempts to revive the series, as either a television series or as a feature film. A proposed pilot starring Dermot Mulroney was rejected by NBC in 2010, and plans for a film version starring Vince Vaughan a few years later seem to have been scrapped. Reactions to the announcement of both projects were far from enthusiastic.

As would be expected. The Rockford Files was a perfect storm of acting, directing and writing; an astounding and rare blend of warmth, humour, wit and intelligence that celebrated decency and loyalty, and starring one of America’s most beloved actors. Trashing people’s memories for a quick buck just doesn’t seem like something Rockford would be involved in.

ABOUT THOSE CREATORS

Roy Huggins was one of the most influential creators and producers in American television, having a hand in the creation of such successful TV shows as Cheyenne, Maverick, The Fugitive, Run for Your Life and The Outsider.  He started out as a novelist, though. His first novel, the very Chandleresque The Double Take (1946) intorduced Los Angeles private eye Stuart Bailey, whom Huggins later adapted television’s 77 Sunset Strip.
Huggins’ protege, Stephen J. Cannell, may have arguably been an even bigger influence on television,  creating and/or producing Tenspeed and Brownshoe, Sonny Spoon, City of Angels, 21 Jump Street, Riptide, The A-Team, Hardcastle and McCormick, among others.

FROM THE PEANUT GALLERY

THE EVIDENCE

TELEVISION

 

NOVELS & NOVELIZATIONS

NON-FICTION

FOR (AND BY) ROCKFORDPHILES

FURTHER INVESTIGATION

Respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith. Thanks to our good buddy Bluefox808 and Don W. for their help here, and to John and Ann Ernst for resolving the coffee can/cookie jar debate. And a special nod to Claudia Pino for the scoop on the “Gold Firebird.”

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