A little case of murder...

If you want to get a good night's sleep, don't start reading an engaging murder mystery at bedtime.

Tried to wind down last night with "The Wrong Man," James Neff's fast-paced, well-written account of the infamous 1954 murder of Marilyn Sheppard in the small suburb of Bay Village, Ohio. And, I proceeded to become enthralled in the tale for the next 5 or 6 hours. So much for slumber.

Most of you know, or have heard about, the story. Dr. Sam Sheppard was a well-respected osteopathic surgeon in a small bedroom community near Cleveland. He was a town big shot, friends with the Cleveland Browns quarterback, (Otto Graham) and the village's mayor, a neighbor.

And it was to the mayor that a distraught Sam Sheppard called for help in the early morning hours of July 4, 1954. Sheppard claimed that an intruder had knocked him out twice a few hours earlier and bludgeoned his wife Marilyn to death. The crime scene was a blood bath.

Those who immediately arrived at the house were sympathetic. Sheppard, himself injured, was taken to his family's hospital. But the county coroner, no friend to the Sheppard family, judged the good doctor to be guilty almost from the get-go. Hot shot Cleveland detectives came to the same conclusion. Both quickly began leaking to the city's three daily newspapers.

Sheppard's forthcoming trial turned into a media circus, the O.J. Simpson trial of its day. Famed Hearst columnist Dorothy Kilgallen showed up to cover the trial, took up Sheppard's cause, and later said she was "shocked" at the resulting guilty verdict. (Kilgallen later revealed that the judge told her that Dr. Sheppard was "guilty as hell.")

After serving in prison for several years (Sheppard narrowly missed the death penalty by being found guilty of second-degree murder), a then-unknown lawyer named F. Lee Bailey took up the doctor's cause. His conviction was overturned and declared a miscarriage of justice. Another trial was ordered; a jury acquitted Sheppard of the murder in 1966.

Forever haunted by the experience, Sheppard died, of liver failure, in 1970. Reports claimed he'd become an alcoholic, drinking as much as two-fifths of liquor a day. His last years were spent unhappily as a professional wrestler.

I've only made my way through the first part of Neff's book, but it appears that the author is setting out to forever prove that Sheppard was indeed innocent. I'll file a final report after I finish the book. The trial became part of popular culture, reportedly inspiring the classic 1960s TV series "The Fugitive" and the later Harrison Ford film based on the series.

There's nothing quite like a little case of murder to get the blood boiling. Just don't delve into it right at midnight, that is, if you plan on getting any sleep.

How to ruin a great TV show...

It deserves better treatment than this.

Few classic TV series are as well respected as "The Fugitive." The 1960s ABC hour-long program, starring David Janssen as the Indiana doctor falsely accused of murdering his wife, was a step above other dramas of the period. It was well acted, well written and beautifully scored -- although you wouldn't know about the latter if you've looked at the latest CBS/Paramount DVD release.

Long story made short: CBS/Paramount released two mostly fine volumes containing the entire batch of episodes from season one of "The Fugitive." A few pieces of music were changed here and there -- mostly canned music not written for the series -- but Pete Rugolo's award-winning underscore was intact throughout. The music is a big part of the series' allure; it set the tone that made each week's episode feel like a 60-minute slice of film noir.

Well, guess what?

For the first volume of the recently-released season two episodes, some genius at CBS/Paramount decided to redo the entire underscore in each of the included episodes. Its replacement is a hasty hack job, synthesized and out of place.

Fans are furious. Some are returning the DVD sets. Harsh reviews have popped up at Amazon.com and elsewhere.

CBS/Paramount issued a rather lame statement saying they didn't want to hold up the release by mining out all the unlicensed music. Call me crazy, but I would have gladly waited -- or else paid a little extra for uncut episodes.

What's strange about this is that CBS/Paramount has a great history with its DVD releases. "The Twilight Zone" was given the red carpet treatment for all of its 5-season releases. Such a fine program deserved it. So does "The Fugitive."

It's a testament to the quality of this program that, despite this unpardonable sin, the show is still engaging, still able to hook the viewer with its taut pace and gentle humanism.

We'll most likely never see another show quite like "The Fugitive" again. And it's a shame - a true shame -- that CBS/Paramount isn't treating this gem with the respect it deserves.

An innocent victim of blind justice...

For my money, the best action/dramatic series ever presented on American television is not "24." In fact, it's not even on TV anymore.

No, that lofty claim belongs to a show canceled 40 years ago today.

I speak, of course, of "The Fugitive."

Dr. Richard Kimble's quest to clear his name and find the One Armed Man that killed his wife thrilled audiences for four highly-successful seasons from 1963-67. The last episode, in which Kimble finally tracks down the One Armed Man, remained the most-watched episode of all-time until the "Who Shot J.R." fad hit "Dallas" in November 1980.

Go back and watch this series. You'll not find a better program.

David Janssen was picture perfect as the haunted Kimble. His understated performance may be one of television's best.

Nearly as good was Barry Morse as the obsessed Lt. Phil Gerard, the Indiana police officer who lost Kimble in a train wreck while transporting him to death row.

Commenting on the action was the stern voice of actor William Conrad, who each week informed audiences that Kimble was "an innocent victim of blind justice" and kept the viewers abreast of the Fugitive's every move.

Presented in black-and-white for its first three seasons, "The Fugitive" took on a film noir look and feel. It was presented in four acts (with an epilogue), as was the trademark of producer Quinn Martin.

The acting and writing were superb. The guest stars were some of the most famous names in the business.

The show, really, was a glorified western, a (then) modern-day story about a drifter on the run. Each week found Kimble in a different location, often using an alias. He would briefly become involved with various folks in various towns, but always moved on, always continued to run, unable to keep interpersonal attachments for very long.

The running stopped in August 1967. Kimble tracked the One Armed Man to Los Angeles, then back to Stafford, Indiana. It all ended on a tower in an abandoned amusement park in a scene that can still quicken the pulse.

CBS/Paramount has released the first volume of the first season on DVD. Do yourself a favor and relive the weekly adventures of everybody's favorite fugitive.

You won't find anything like it on TV today, I can promise you.