Returning to The Moth-Eaten Mink

About a year and a half ago I wrote up a comparison post between The Moth-Eaten Mink and The Sausalito Sunrise. I have to admit, my feelings from that post still stand. But I watched Mink again last night and came away with some additional thoughts.

Of course, one thought that always persists is that Tragg is awesome in this episode. It’s famously the first one filmed, and he’s right in top form, making classic quips (Perry: “Will you do me a favor?” Tragg: “Probably not, but ask anyway.” Ha!), not letting himself be made a fool of, and getting to rescue Perry in the climax. It reminds me of how involved Tragg is with several of the early episodes, including The Silent Partner. I do miss that level of involvement in subsequent episodes and seasons!

(And I really wish making Tragg sound like an idiot on the witness stand hadn’t started happening with increasing frequency as the show went on. In these early episodes, he really is sharp as a whip. At least on many occasions; I’m still cringing at the end of episode 3, even though Tragg is adorable in it.)

He isn’t quite as intense as Steve in Sunrise, as he’s able to wound the bad guy in the arm instead of killing him. Perhaps Tragg had a different trajectory or perhaps the writers thought it would be better for the guy to live so he could be tried and executed. Or perhaps they didn’t want to open the series with the murderer dying in a shootout, since that wouldn’t be standard fare and they wouldn’t want to give the impression it would be. Curiously enough, the character does die in the book.

I wonder if they knew from the start that Mink would not air first despite being filmed first. If the first eight episodes in a season are always supposed to be the top sellers, I think they definitely should have included Mink as at least one of those eight, if not the first. It’s always been one of the standout episodes to me, and judging from what I’ve seen from other fans, many feel the same way.

Tragg and Steve have different perspectives on the truth of a policeman being behind the murders and other crimes. Tragg’s repulsion and disgust is probably among the most memorable scenes of the series, and his reply to Perry going to call an ambulance: “Yeah, call an ambulance. But don’t, uh, hurry.” It’s not a life-threatening injury, apparently, and Tragg wants the guy to suffer a bit after all the suffering he brought to others.

By contrast, Steve is stunned and sobered, saying it almost seems unbelievable. He’s a young lieutenant, definitely not having been on the job as long as Tragg has, and this may very well be the first time he has encountered corruption on the police force. Tragg, underneath all the amusing barbs and jokes, is actually quite cynical and all too familiar with things like police corruption.

Somehow it strikes me as slightly unbelievable for the crooked Sergeant Jaffrey to own the hotel that plays such a large part in the events of Mink. I imagine it really isn’t, since I would assume the idea is that he bought it with some of his ill-gotten gains. But still, imagining a current police officer actually owning a hotel strikes me as seriously amusing in its preposterousness. It seems that he surely would have been recognized sometimes, by people other than the poor young officer he killed. I suppose he was generally in the shadows and didn’t often come out. Nevertheless, I can’t help feeling that Sunrise handled the matter of the police officer’s crooked ventures a bit more believably.

Overall, while Mink and Sunrise have a few strikingly similar plot elements, they’re really quite different episodes, so much so that I think they can definitely be enjoyed independent of each other. It’s certainly nothing like the lack of creativity that happens when a script is adapted for a remake almost word for word and scene for scene, such as The Bionic Woman’s reworking of The Six Million Dollar Man episode Survival of the Fittest or Mannix redoing its season 1 episode Skid Marks on a Dry Run almost exactly in season 6. Almost all of the Perry remake episodes have a lot of unique elements going for them. The writers have to be given points for figuring out how to weave the existing plot elements into a largely new story.

I somewhat feel that the different approaches between Mink and Sunrise have a lot to do with the times in which they were produced. Mink, in season 1, is when the series was fresh and new and they were just trying to find their footing. Shows of the time didn’t often have characters that branched out beyond being the archetypes they were created to be. Hence, Perry isn’t generally an exception and season 1 is much less likely than later seasons to heavily involve the characters in the plots so that their personal feelings come out. Generally it’s the guest stars who carry those parts of the plot, while the main Perry characters serve their purpose as archetypes of the legal drama. They’re fun and enjoyable to watch, but we don’t really know a lot about their personal lives or feelings, which is how Erle Stanley Gardner wanted it and how in large part it remained for a lot of the series.

Of course, there are exceptions in every season. I think The Sun-Bather’s Diary may have been the first Perry episode to seriously involve the main characters in the goings-on, although there it’s by having Perry get into serious trouble as has been threatened on him from episode 1. Season 3, when everyone is a lot more comfortable with the characters and the show, is when they first really start to branch out and try stories where the main characters carry a large portion of the action, such as Paul Drake’s Dilemma, where a main character other than Perry is in trouble, and The Prudent Prosecutor, where a main character other than Perry has a friend who’s in trouble.

I always like it best when a show delves deeply into character interaction and relations and feelings, instead of just leaving them more as unreachable archetypes. Season 1 feels, in many ways, detached, although there are interesting jaunts such as The Sun-Bather’s Diary and Perry’s extreme distrust of his client in The Fan-Dancer’s Horse being an important plot point. But I definitely think that by the mid-1960s, it was much more common for shows to depict more about characters’ feelings rather than often keeping them as archetypes and Perry followed suit. The characters opening up and being more accessible happened with increasing frequency as the show went on, which is probably another reason why I’ve come to love the later seasons so much. The characters develop and mature and are admittedly more serious later on (although they really haven’t forgotten how to laugh), and the number of episodes involving them as focal points of the action increase.

One thing that must be remembered, however, is that while season 1 may not have had episodes with the main characters other than Perry being central to the main conflict in ways like The Prudent Prosecutor or The Hateful Hero do, season 1 is glorious for giving equal screentime to all of the Core Five and there are some wonderful scenes of interaction between Hamilton and Tragg and Hamilton and Perry especially. Also, there are scenes of Perry taking Della investigating, which doesn’t happen as much in later seasons. So there are things about every season and era of the show that I highly enjoy.

It is interesting, how Tragg never really had an episode specifically devoted to him (Mink comes close, but it’s not expressly Tragg-centric), but by season 9 they gave the policeman character more than one episode that seemed rather centric to him. Perhaps in one way it was too soon after introducing the character to show him having a dark struggle as he is in Sunrise. That’s the sort of storyline you might expect after seeing a character for several seasons. But perhaps after all the neglect they gave to Andy, they were trying desperately to make up for it in any way they could think of. And while I imagine some people could not get attached to the character after so short a time, I’m definitely not among that number and I thoroughly love what Sunrise did.

Of course, the new character is not the only one to be strongly highlighted in Sunrise. Paul also is very involved, even getting into danger while undercover with creeps trying to run him off the road. This is another type of thing that was unlikely to happen in earlier seasons, but by season 9 they were all for it. I really like seeing more of Paul on a case and the trouble he runs into. It makes Sunrise feel very involved instead of somewhat detached.

At the same time, I appreciate Mink for what it is and love this early glimpse into an intense plot that climaxes with a main character in danger. I think it holds up very well as a great representation of the series as a whole as well as season 1 in specific.

The Moth-Eaten Mink vs. The Sausalito Sunrise

I was considering getting this up on Thursday, but then I wasn’t feeling well and other things happened. I think I was able to devote more and better time to it now. And I’m hoping to get the schedule back to normal now! I have every intention of keeping this blog going.

I promised a comparison post with The Moth-Eaten Mink and The Sausalito Sunrise. I’ve talked a lot about the latter, but not often the former, except to briefly comment that I liked it better.

I imagine most people do. However, after reviewing both episodes shortly after each other, I’ve been having some differences in opinion.

The initial setting is different for each. I have no problem with either setting; the restaurant and the art museum are equally interesting places, considering the events that Perry and Della encounter at each.

In both, a young woman is in trouble and ends up hit by a car. She later disappears from the hospital and ends up with the man who knows her at her place of employment and has tried to help her. They both eventually end up accused of murder—one of the only times when there’s two defendants. (Other such times that I can think of are the remake, of course, and also The Elusive Element.)

In Mink, the titular mink becomes an object of interest, due to being stolen. In Sunrise, it’s the titular painting, and I’ve never seen The Sausalito Sunrise uncut, so I hope that when I eventually get to, there will be more explanation of exactly what the painting is and what its particular importance is (as opposed to the other stolen paintings).

One amusing scene opened up by the latter setting is Perry and Della at an art exhibit. They run into some bizarre modern art and some bizarre modern artists. Kooky artists are seen so frequently on the series that they probably deserve a post all their own.

An important event in both episodes is the unsolved murder of a policeman. But some of the details are intriguingly and intensely different. In Mink, Paul suddenly pulls the story out of the blue, showing it to Perry in a newspaper. The murder has been unsolved for an entire year. And now, suddenly, they have their first real break, with the murder gun being used again in the Moth-Eaten Mink case.

Contrast that with The Sausalito Sunrise, where it opens actually showing the events leading up to the poor policeman’s murder (minus the killer’s identity, of course)! It really involves the audience in the horror and tragedy and mystery of the case. It’s hard to get so involved in it in Mink, when Paul just brings up the matter and it’s little more than a newspaper story at first.

A month passes here, which makes more sense than a year considering the identity of the vengeful policeman looking for the killer, which is different for each episode. I’ll get to that in a minute.

The finding of the murder gun is also different. In Mink, Paul just so briefly mentions it. But in Sunrise, he is heavily involved in its discovery. He goes undercover as a trucker at the company where trucks keep getting hijacked. He goes up to San Francisco, nearly getting hijacked along the way and having to deal with a stowaway reporter who’s a friend of the murdered cop. While there, he finds the bus locker where the attacked girl’s art case is kept. The murder gun is inside the case and the police pounce, brought there by a mysterious anonymous tip about the case.

And hence, we finally come to the vengeful policeman looking for the cop killer. In Mink, the man is a character the audience has never met. He’s only around for that particular episode. He was the superior officer of the murdered man.

He’s also the killer. His vengefulness is all an act.

In Sunrise, the poor officer’s superior is still the killer, but he isn’t the one specifically depicted as vengeful. That role falls to someone the audience does know well, or at least, better than a oneshot character. His vengefulness is very real.

Once again, the later episode has done something to more deeply involve the audience. The vengeful sergeant in Mink isn’t really even seen that often (unless he has more scenes in the uncut version, which I don’t remember). A oneshot character can be very involving if they’re active enough in the plot, but this one just doesn’t seem to be. Hence, he’s not someone the audience is always consciously thinking about. He’s there for a scene or two, drops back into the background, and suddenly is coming after Perry after Perry starts to put together the truth about the guy being involved in assorted rackets and being the killer because the good cop found out.

In Sunrise, where the vengeful lieutenant is very active, frequently seen, and is Perry’s friend and a regular cast member to boot, it’s impossible to forget about him. One of the key issues to the whole plot is Steve Drumm’s quest to find the killer and Perry worrying about how bitter and vengeful he’s getting.

And this brings us to the climaxes. In Mink, Tragg is aware of Perry’s plot because Perry actually converses with him and brings him back to the office to wait with him. When the sergeant tries to shoot Perry, Perry knows Tragg is right there (although the audience doesn’t, until he starts to open the door). Tragg calls out, the creep whirls, shoots, and Tragg shoots back, hitting him in the arm. Furious and repulsed, Tragg snarls about how the honest police are trying to do their jobs and then slime like this guy comes along and makes a mess of his badge. He agrees with Perry to call an ambulance, but advises not to hurry. It’s totally one of Tragg’s best scenes, both the rescue and his subsequent speech.

In Sunrise, Perry has not told Steve of his plan. Perhaps he feels he can’t, with Steve so upset and angry, but also, he’s hoping that what he said to Steve during his cross-examination on the witness stand will get through and Steve will start to put the pieces together on his own. He does, and asks Della where Perry went.

The audience, however, knows nothing of this until after the fact (unless it’s a cut scene). All we see is Perry confronting the wretched dirty cop and the guy about to shoot. It really looks like Perry is done for (even though we know of course that somehow he won’t be killed). And suddenly, two shots ring out and the crumb drops dead. Only then is Steve seen on the stairs.

I adore the subsequent conversation they share, where Steve thanks Perry and Perry expresses amazement, since Steve saved Perry’s life. Steve elaborates that he’s thankful Perry kept trying to get through to him and finally got him on the right track about who the guilty party has to be—the policeman, managing to be on the case and cover up all the evidence wherever the good police would have normally found it. Steve wonders how Perry could put so much trust in Steve to come through, considering his angry and unthinking behavior. Perry says he knew he had the best thing in the world going for him—one good, honest cop.

Well, in the end, between Mink’s lesser involvement of the unsolved murder, the brief mention of the discovery of the gun, and the lesser involvement of the vengeful policeman, going up against very active involvement of all three elements in Sunrise, I kind of have to say, my tastes have swung more towards The Sausalito Sunrise. I prefer the more active approach and having a main character be the vengeful one. It certainly is a twist, though, to have the vengeful one in Mink be the killer. I don’t remember suspecting him at all the first time I recently saw Mink.

Most people are probably aware that The Moth-Eaten Mink was the first filmed episode, even though it aired as #13. And it is a true classic! Make no mistake about that. It’s one of my favorite season 1 episodes. It has very good interaction among the characters. Perry and Della and Perry and Paul get excellent amounts of screentime, and of course, Tragg gets to be awesome! That’s always something exciting. I just wish Hamilton had been in it more. He isn’t in Sunrise too much, either, for that matter, since the focus is more on Steve. Of course, I love that Steve gets the spotlight.

A brief difference in the episodes involving Hamilton is the judge’s attitude towards the way Hamilton wants to prosecute. Oddly enough, the judge in Mink is willing to consider Hamilton’s feelings that the murder of the policeman directly ties in with the more recent murder. In Sunrise, the judge refuses to allow Hamilton to bring in evidence for both murders and insists that he only focus on the policeman’s murder. Normally, I would think that the judge of the later episode would give Hamilton more latitude than the judge of a season 1 episode, but here, it’s just the opposite. Points for Mink.

One oddball thing about Mink is the epilogue. Perry, Della, and Paul are back at the restaurant and Perry is gratefully thanked by his friend for helping him and the girl get out of their mess. He asks about desserts and Perry says he’ll take anything … except a moth-eaten mink. It’s an amusing bit, and of course the mink was originally found at the restaurant, but it still sounds a bit strange, since a moth-eaten mink coat isn’t food at all. The show really does have some groan-worthy jokes sometimes, especially in earlier seasons. But that’s part of the charm.

And tomorrow marks the anniversary of Erle Stanley Gardner’s death in 1970, just several days after William Hopper died. It’s hard to believe that in 2013, it’s the 80^th year of Perry Mason existing in some form or another. I recommend watching The Case of the Velvet Claws, since that story was the first book. Or if you have the book, heck, read the book. I still plan to have a look at the books if I can track some down locally, despite my displeasure at how Hamilton is handled. Perry wouldn’t exist without the books, and even those of us who prefer the television series should always keep that in mind.

Thank you for another wonderful year of Perry, Mr. Gardner!

Lieutenant Drumm: Hard as nails, but sensitive

Over the past week or two I’ve been stepping up my quest to find Wesley Lau and Richard Anderson in some of their various guest-spots. This has resulted in new bursts of enthusiasm over them both, depending on the day. (Seeing The Impatient Partner again and starting a Wild Wild West story involving Richard’s guest-starring character hasn’t hurt, either. I suppose figuring out what inspired me with what is a bit of the “which came first” unanswerable question.)

Well, Wesley’s received a good bit of my lavishing attention on the blog of late, so I decided it was time to spotlight Richard’s Steve Drumm again. Heaven knows he needs fan love.

One thing I’m always wondering is whether The Sausalito Sunrise handled Steve’s personality change believably. Time and again I’ve praised how they did it; if you’re going to make a character act different than usual, give an explanation and have the other characters take notice. The episode does that beautifully. But an issue I didn’t really address is that, even if they do us those good turns, is the behavior believable? Would the character really act in those ways, no matter the explanation?

To some extent that’s also an unanswerable question. Not even the writers or the actors know every facet of a character’s personality. On the other hand, however, there should always be some basic knowledge of the character’s traits and some idea of what they would and would not do.

Now, Steve is noted for being very by-the-book. I’ve compared him to a 1940s hardboiled detective. On the job, he does indeed display rough, harsh, just-the-facts behavior. This is in sharp contrast to Tragg’s friendly facades or even his most serious moods. And Andy seems to come across as more businesslike and efficient while amiable (although he also has scenes devoid of amiability). They’re all excellent policemen, but they have varying approaches to their jobs and how they deal with people.

This does not mean, however, that any of them care less about people than do the others. Tragg has been shown to be very gentle and sobered when bringing the news of a loved one’s death. In one season 4 episode he even sadly says that for thirty years, it’s never gotten easier for him.

Andy, albeit he tries to keep up the businesslike persona, does let it drop. Of course, this is most noticeable in The Hateful Hero, when he displays a wide range of emotions, from worry to shock to gentleness.

He and Tragg have both gone more “hardcore” on occasion, Andy when he faces the real murderer in The Hateful Hero and snarls, “Well, what are you going to do with that gun?!”, and Tragg in The Moth-Eaten Mink when he rescues Perry from the dirty cop and then comments in anger how a corrupt officer ruins the hard work the honest police are trying to do.

While Tragg and Andy fall back on being tough only occasionally, it’s Steve’s usual approach. But, though he is usually gruff while on duty, he does not like offending or hurting any innocent parties any more than Tragg or Andy do. I’ve noted how he suddenly becomes awkward when he realizes how frustrated and irritated the apartment house manager in The Candy Queen has become.

In The Silent Six he feels that he is not supposed to have friends in his line of work, a curious and sad “lone wolf” view not apparently shared by Tragg and Andy. And in spite of Steve’s viewpoint, his partner is clearly his friend, as are Paul, Perry, and the others. And off-duty he is very relaxed and friendly, almost showing a 180-degree turn on his personality.

Coming back to The Sausalito Sunrise, the whole reason for Steve’s anger and fierceness throughout most of that episode is because of the cold-blooded murder of a policeman and the heart-broken family left behind. He does lose sight of the truth of a dirty cop being behind it all, and hence makes some mistakes that he would not ordinarily make (which requires Perry to force him to take a long look at himself). But as I see it, the real root of the problem just may be that he is deeply sensitive to tragedy and horror and the shattered pieces left behind after a murder. Perhaps that is the reason for his usual tough attitude: it could be what he feels is his best defense against the evil he encounters every day, as well as a defense against his own feelings. He tries not to let his personal views color his behavior on the job (which he pretty much outright says in The Silent Six and cites as why he feels he cannot have friends; he thinks they would color his view and make him less objective). Usually, in this he succeeds. In The Sausalito Sunrise, he could not. Having been dealt the final straw, the dam broke. Once Perry got him straightened out, he realized how he had been conducting himself and quickly set about doing his best to amend the damage. He never had a breakdown like that again in the series, so hopefully he figured out how to further master his feelings against it happening another time.

Is his behavior in that episode in-character with his personality? Is it conceivable that he could feel that way? I would say, in all honesty, yes.

(Of course, that also leads to that inevitable question of Hamilton’s behavior in some of those season 9 episodes. I still say that by season 9 it is far less likely for him to behave as he did in, say, The 12^th Wildcat, based on evidence of episodes from every season, including some of 9’s better ventures. However, no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes and slip-ups. So if the writers want to do that with Hamilton, they need a viable explanation, which as far as I know, we did not get in any of those season 9 episodes. But had logical explanations been provided, they might not have come off as bizarre and out of place and out-of-character as they did.)

I’ve seen it said (and to some extent I believe it), that particularly angry or harsh people might actually be the most sensitive of all. Not knowing quite how to deal with it, it comes out through their emotions and/or is hidden by the shield over their emotions. Taking all of the known aspects of Steve’s personality into consideration, both could very well be true in his case. Perhaps as he grows older and gains more experience he will acquire a better hold on and understanding of his feelings and be able to deal with them in a healthier way.

The Golfer's Gambit: The case of being too close to the case

The Golfer’s Gambit, from season 9, is very interesting and unique in several ways. We meet another of Hamilton’s oneshot friends, though certainly a repulsive one. And Hamilton has a disastrous day in court, possibly brought on by the fact that he is too close to the case.

It’s unlikely Hamilton was even aware of how nasty his friend Chick was, at least while the fellow was alive. Knowing that Hamilton was the district attorney, and a very honest one, Chick probably strove to keep his true nature hidden. They may not even be very close at all, perhaps little more than golfing/country club buddies. But Chick does have Hamilton’s home phone number. Considering Hamilton’s occupation, I’d doubt he’d give that out to just anyone.

The episode opens at a country club, where a golfing tournament is taking place. Chick bullies, threatens, and cheats his way to the top. He is arrogant, selfish, and wholly willing to use whomever he has to for his own means.

That evening Hamilton presents the tournament trophy to Chick, admitting at the same time that he himself is terrible at golfing. This is also the episode where Hamilton is apparently on a date with an unnamed and silent girl. They are shown dancing, and later on, observing a fight between Chick and another guy.

It bothered me that when Chick ends up knocking his opponent into a pool, everyone—including Hamilton and the girl—laughs. But in their defense, they never knew what the fight was about. All they saw was the fight itself, and perhaps they thought that the other guy was the one at fault, jealous of Chick winning the tournament or something like that. Hence, Chick making a fool of the guy would seem satisfying.

Later on, Chick calls Hamilton in the middle of the night, as Jefferson Pike did six seasons earlier. We see part of Hamilton’s house for only the second time, and his bedroom for the first time. Hamilton answers the phone, half-asleep, and tries to wake up while a panic-stricken Chick tells him that he is being threatened and needs to talk about it tonight and not tomorrow at the office. In the middle of the conversation Chick is clubbed over the head, which finally wakes Hamilton up the rest of the way. He immediately calls the police, but Chick is already dead. An unfortunate young man is taken into custody as the prime suspect and later charged with the murder.

The uncut episode has an interesting scene where Perry talks with Hamilton and Steve at Clay’s. Hamilton mentions how difficult the case is for him, as everyone likes the defendant. Nevertheless, he has to prosecute, and as Steve tells Perry after Hamilton leaves, no matter how much Burger likes the kid, when he gets him in front of the bar he’ll be a total stranger.

(Somehow this makes Hamilton’s visible regret at prosecuting Paul even more poignant.)

During the hearing Hamilton testifies about the phone call and how he is thoroughly convinced it proves the defendant’s involvement. Perry shows it does not, ripping the testimony to shreds in a cringe-worthy cross-examination. Hamilton is certainly left looking ridiculous—or at least as though the case is, perhaps, just hitting far too close to home and he isn’t thinking clearly because of it. Maybe, with the murder victim being a friend of his, he should not have been prosecuting. Even the assistant D.A. who he has question him on the phone call looks uncertain and perhaps worried, maybe suspecting how badly it will go. (Or maybe he was simply nervous to be examining the D.A., something he probably never did before.)

That, I believe, is the last truly noteworthy thing happening in the episode, save for an interesting sub-plot with one of the important witnesses wanting to teach Paul how to golf. It’s brought up again in the epilogue.

Overall I’m not sure what to make of the episode. We get some very unusual elements—the golf setting in general, Hamilton on a date, Hamilton being friends with the murder victim—but it, like The Shapely Shadow, really makes me cringe and feel embarrassed and sorry for Hamilton.

I definitely like it better in its uncut format, but something still seems to be missing. With Hamilton friendly with the victim, and Perry defending the murder suspect, it made for a very sticky situation all around. The writers didn’t fully milk this unique scenario for all it was worth. They mainly focused on the negative and then let it drop. I would have liked a scene with Perry going to Hamilton and apologizing for having to tear into his testimony, then saying he knows how much Hamilton wants to see the murderer convicted and would Hamilton help him with a plan of his to expose the killer? I even would have been pleased with something in the epilogue with Perry and company discussing what happened in the hearing and how it must have been a particularly difficult case for Hamilton to prosecute. Some acknowledgement that Perry (or Della or Paul) realized how hard it must have been and how Hamilton had likely felt. Without any acknowledgement of that at all, it felt unfair to Hamilton.

I kind of thought Hamilton might even turn up in the epilogue, since they were at the country club (I think) and he’s a member. But he is not seen. In both of the other episodes featuring his oneshot friends, he appears in the epilogues. (Also in both of them, he and Perry work closely together. Interesting.) Here, the writers kept him around until that disaster during the hearing and then seemed to lose interest in him.

I’m reminded of The Sausalito Sunrise again, and how Perry ripped into Steve Drumm’s testimony on the stand. But in that case, Perry was trying to help Steve see that he had allowed his view of the case to become colored. They acknowledged as much in the episode and it was important to the plot. Hence, it came across far better. Why couldn’t they have done that for The Golfer’s Gambit too?

I suppose in the end I see The Golfer’s Gambit as a very interesting and watchable episode, but one that still manages to fall short. It could have and should have gone farther. It would have been better for it.

Exploring the myths of cop-killer episodes and Andy in season 8

I’ve been pondering on this subject since seeing The Sausalito Sunrise several weeks ago, and more strongly since seeing the episode upon which it was based, The Moth-Eaten Mink, this past week. Both episodes are good, although I prefer the original, but I’m hesitant on what I think of how they presented a certain important angle.

Both episodes partially concern the unsolved mystery of a police officer who was killed. It’s almost mythical and legendary, or at least it was back then, to portray the other police bent on locating the murderer for killing a brother-in-arms. Perry notes this outright in The Sausalito Sunrise, to which Steve Drumm says, “Is there anything wrong with that?” Perry says No, not unless it starts to affect a police officer’s judgment.

I agree in general, except for this little problem. Usually when mentioned in media, this dogged determination is portrayed as a negative thing, an indication that the police care more about their own than about the citizens they’re trying to protect. And while I’m certain that some police do go after the killers feeling a certain need to avenge a fellow officer’s death, the actual reason that they seem to search more vigorously for a cop killer is that if someone is deranged or desperate enough to shoot down an armed police officer, they wouldn’t hesitate to gun down an unarmed citizen. So the police aren’t forgetting the people they protect by any means.

This was rarely brought out, except in police procedural shows such as Highway Patrol and Dragnet. Since Perry always strove for accuracy in their depiction of legal and police procedures (with the exception of the break-down confessions in court, of course), I don’t quite understand why they didn’t bring out the full truth about this matter. I suppose they just wanted to tell an intense story and the idea of having an officer be vengeful in both versions seemed a good twist to take. They could have still had that, but I wish they had made it feel less like the common mythical stereotype and more steeped in realism. The Sausalito Sunrise did have Perry concerned about Steve’s vengeful attitude, but I would have liked to have seen a scene in either that episode or The Moth-Eaten Mink where another police officer speaks in concern to the ones depicted as feeling vengeful.

No mention was made of the danger of such a villain as a cop killer being at large. Instead, it was more implied in both versions that all the police generally feel that vengeful determination and that is the driving force and the purpose behind such manhunts. And I really can’t think it’s a good idea to perpetuate such ideas. In the end, I feel it’s far more damaging to the police than anything else.

I suppose it could be argued that the show really didn’t care if it made the police look bad, since the formula is set up so that the audience is supposed to root for the defense and the police are seen in a more antagonistic light. But I believe they really did try to make the police come across as good people too. Tragg, Andy, Steve, and their comrades are all portrayed as three-dimensional characters. And the times Perry has talked of the efficiency of the police are countless. So I feel that they did not want to cast a bad reflection on the police. Considering that they were boxed in by Gardner’s formula, they probably did the best they could, for the most part. Any and all attempts to bring out well-rounded characters despite the formula is one reason why the show is so wonderful in spite of its flaws.

Perpetuating the myth of the police’s vengeance on cop killers, however, was not necessary. To most viewers, it was probably half-expected and did not bother at all. But it does concern me. I wouldn’t have expected it of Perry.

And continuing today’s police theme, I am also wondering more and more what’s going on with Andy in season 8. I thought his stressed behavior and Paul’s derogatory comment in The Careless Kitten was an isolated event. But in the earlier season 8 episode The Wooden Nickels it happens again. Andy behaves more like Tragg, particularly Tragg in season 1, as he tries to get information from Paul and threatens him with the loss of his license. It’s true that Andy was somewhat stern in a few earlier episodes, such as The Golden Oranges, but it was never to the extent it’s been in these season 8 ventures. He seems like a different person altogether. There’s no trace of the easy-going friendliness he’s so well-known for. Is it bad writing, changing the character’s personality for no real reason? Or could there have been a reason?

Season 8 was the first season without any appearances by Tragg at all. (Even though Ray Collins remained credited all through the season.) Could Andy’s new behavior be an indication that Tragg really is gone (and not simply unseen by the audience) and Andy has fully taken over all of Tragg’s duties? Perhaps he is stressed because of the extra workload and because of missing his friend (especially if Tragg died rather than retired).

That still would not explain Paul’s remark in The Careless Kitten, where he said “There’s nothing Andy would like better than to …” and then was cut off by Perry. Andy was always focused more on catching the crooks than on causing trouble for Perry and Paul, but Paul’s comment indicates the opposite, as it did when he said it (and finished it) concerning Tragg or Hamilton earlier on. Perhaps with Tragg gone the writers thought they should make Andy more like him. And maybe they were already taking steps to try to move the show back to its season 1 roots, as they did more vigorously the following season.

It’s a pity we’ll probably never know. It’s possible there’s no real explanation for it at all. But it’s also possible that there is.

I’m not sure what my posting schedule will be this coming week. I may only make the one post, on Saturday the 4^th, or I may do my weekday post a day early, on Wednesday. I have a musing I want to do on The Negligent Nymph, so I may write that for the middle of the week.

Surprise! A weekday post again!

Now that things have settled down after the turn of the year, I may go back to posting more than one entry a week. At any rate, I felt that this entry needed to be written now, while it’s fresh on my mind.

For the last nights in succession, my local station (which has skipped most of season 7 and all of 8 for some unknown reason) showed two season 9 episodes that I feel bring out even more strongly what is wrong with The 12^th Wildcat: The Vanishing Victim and The Sausalito Sunrise. All three episodes have some elements in common. Some handle them better than others. The latter two handled everything better than The 12^th Wildcat, despite The Vanishing Victim having problems of its own.

As might be recalled, my problems with The 12^th Wildcat are varied. Some involve my complaints that Hamilton’s misconduct went without explanation and hence, looked more out-of-character than anything else. There’s my problem with them not explaining the crime. And there’s one other problem I realized when I saw a bit of the episode again last Saturday, when my station did its annual New Year’s Eve Perry marathon. I’ll get to that in a minute.

The Vanishing Victim is the second reworking of season 1’s The Fugitive Nurse, following season 3’s The Frantic Flyer. Season 9 remade several episodes from season 1, which isn’t a surprise since it seemed to think it was season 1 reborn.

One of my problems with season 9 is that some of the episodes seem to forget any and all character development that came before. Season 1 often featured Perry and Hamilton working against each other. I’ve observed the episodes from all the other seasons, and those instances greatly diminish to almost nothing by seasons 6, 7, and 8. Instead, Perry goes to Hamilton or vice versa, they discuss the case, and Perry has an idea for what to do next. But by season 9, they’re sometimes back to working against each other. There’s no explanation for it, no rhyme or reason to it. It just is, as though someone decided that they were getting too friendly and it had to be stopped.

Such is the case with The Vanishing Victim. Its plot is long, complicated and twisted, unlike both The Fugitive Nurse and The Frantic Flyer. First one man is thought dead, then another, then a third. Each time it’s wrong. By the time we finally learn who really died, at the very end, it feels absolutely incidental and randomly thrown in. The real point seems to be the vicious battle Perry and Hamilton are fighting over the client caught in the middle of this mess. Perry gets the case thrown out of court once. Then Hamilton and Drumm plot to arrest the client on a trumped-up charge outside the courtroom, presumably because they’re certain she’s guilty and don’t want her running free while they seek the information and the missing person Perry wants brought in before the hearing can reconvene. Perry pulls a switcheroo and gets the client out of the courtroom. Drumm catches him with Della later, instead of with the client. The problems between Perry and Hamilton continue in that vein throughout the episode.

One other little thing I didn’t like there was that when Paul told him of the trumped-up charge plan, Perry said, “One thing about Burger—he’s predictable.” The only thing is, he isn’t. I don’t recall them trying something like that ever before, even in season 1. But if they did, it was in season 1 and then didn’t happen in the succeeding seasons until 9.

Perry and Hamilton working against each other reminds me of the scene in The 12^th Wildcat at the train depot, where Perry and company are there to meet the train and Hamilton and Drumm are tailing them. If the episode had been in most other seasons (or heck, if it had even been one of the more sensible season 9 episodes), Perry would have squared with them and they would have been at the train depot working with and not against Perry and company. Instead there’s suddenly this adversarial element that hasn’t been heavily seen season 1. Why?

Of course I’m sure the writers didn’t care one way or another. As long as their scripts were accepted and they got paid, that was probably all they cared about. But why was there suddenly an influx of such scripts being written and accepted in the first place? That’s what I want to know. Why does season 9 seem like a reboot of season 1 half the time? Was it intentional? Were they trying to get back to their roots and make things more like the books again?

Even if most people don’t care about that puzzlement, they should all care about this next one. The problem in The 12^th Wildcat of not explaining the real crime is absolutely preposterous! So what if the defendant’s husband wasn’t really dead. Without explaining what actually happened, the defendant could easily be accused of killing whoever died.

The Vanishing Victim had a similar scenario. But to my surprise and pleasure, they acknowledged that very problem. Perry wanted to convene in the judge’s chambers to discuss what really happened and who actually died, so that his client could not be dragged into court a third time, being accused of the real murder. That was certainly a plus for that episode.

And how does The Sausalito Sunrise fit into all this? By bringing up my complaint of Hamilton’s gross misconduct in The 12^th Wildcat. As I’ve explained before, he was chewed out by the judge at least half a dozen times, and rightly so. The way he was acting, it really seemed that he had something personally against the defendant aside from thinking he was guilty. And Perry was visibly frustrated with Hamilton for one of only a handful of times in the series.

If there had been an explanation for Hamilton’s behavior it could have been an interesting and intense exploration into a darker but very human side of his personality. Without any explanation it looks stupidly cobbled together and out-of-character. Hamilton never behaved in such a way to that degree in other episodes. And when he got emotional, such as in The Fatal Fortune, it only took one reprimand to get him back in line.

The Sausalito Sunrise explores the darker side of Lieutenant Steve Drumm. Vengeful after the murder of a fellow officer, he is losing sight of all the facts of the case and focusing on his determination to convict whom he believes is the killer. Perry is worried about him. He says to Steve early on, “This isn’t like you.” And it’s clearly brought out that it’s this particular case that is getting to him. It’s still painful, to see Steve like that, but at least we know why, and we know that the other characters realize something is very wrong. That is the way to handle such scenarios, not by wildly flinging them around without any obvious point or reason to them!

In the end, the latter episode is the one I like best of the trio. By contrast there are only a couple of things I like in The Vanishing Victim. One is that they explained the crime, unlike The 12^th Wildcat. I also really liked Perry’s speech to Lisa Gaye’s character, where he tells her she can never be truly happy if her happiness is built on an innocent person going to the gas chamber. (I remember a similar speech in The Fugitive Nurse, but I don’t think it went into as much detail.) And lastly, the very last scene is quite unique. Hamilton himself gives the last line of the episode, as he talks to the killer. The killer says something about a last trip. Hamilton remarks that that is what the killer will be taking—one last trip. Cue the fadeout and the credits.

I still do not like The 12^th Wildcat at all. At this point in time, I feel it was the worst episode the series did. It was very badly handled.

Now that that’s out of my system, I plan to praise another good episode this weekend.