Lamenting the hobo

I've always wanted to be a hobo.

I don't know whether it is because of, or in spite of, the fact I've lived in the same town my whole life, but I have a yearning, burning urge to wander.

The good news is that I have seen 47 of the 50 United States, some of them on what used to be called the blue highways.

But every now and then, usually on Friday nights when I am driving east on I-640 near Broadway, I will see a freight train. And wish I could hop aboard just like in the movies, a modern-day Jimmie Rodgers, riding the rails.

I've always loved trains. Most boys do, for whatever reason. As I mentioned yesterday, I first entered Manhattan by rail. I would travel that way exclusively if I could.

But those days are long, long gone, unless I move to the Northeast.

It all started when I was three or four. My dad bought me a model train set of the Chattanooga Choo Choo. It even came with some kind of liquid that would produce smoke from the engine's chimney. I'd dream about being an engineer. Or a brakeman. Or, hell I'll say it, a hobo.

It got worse the first time I heard Jimmie Rodgers. Somebody -- I think it was one of my grandfathers -- had some Rodgers hobo songs on 78s. Later, I heard Merle Haggard, and then Dolly, Emmylou and Linda, sing Jimmie's "Hobo's Meditation."

Tonight as I lay on the boxcar, just waiting for a train to pass by;
What will become of the hobo whenever his time comes to die?

At Clear Springs Baptist Church, I heard "Life's Railway to Heaven" and figured that's where the hobo was ultimately headed. That's the way I wanted to go, I'll tell you for sure.

The itch endures. If I could, I'd take off tomorrow and ride every line that Amtrak serves. Oh, I'd pay for a ticket, of course, which is why this will remain a dream, at least for now.

But I admire the hobo of yesteryear. It's easy, you see, for it to seem romantic from the comfort of one's easy chair.

I love the television series "The Fugitive." I always perked up when David Janssen's Dr. Richard Kimble would hop a freight. In a couple of episodes at least, such an action comes back to haunt the good doctor.

As it is, I sit here in Halls, dreaming my dreams, living vicariously through shows and songs, lamenting the life of the hobo.

There's a Master up yonder in Heaven; got a place that we might call our home.
Will we have to work for a living? Or can we continue to roam? 

'If the phone doesn't ring, it's me'

Harry Orwell is giving Thomas Magnum a run for his money as my favorite TV detective.

(Yeah, Jim Rockford is up there, too.)

Harry lives on the beach. He takes the bus everywhere because he says it gives him time to think. He's debating on whether to get his vehicle's transmission repaired on principle. And, as soon as he finishes fixing up his boat (named The Answer), he's sailing out to sea. Because, as he says, "there aren't any phones there."

Well, this was the 1970s, before cellphones became ubiquitous. But I get his point.

If it were up to me, or if I were in another line of work, I wouldn't answer the darn things. These people who walk around with a phone stuck to their ear as if it were an appendage look ridiculous. Casual conversation in a restaurant is an endangered species.

I told you the other day about "Harry O." It was an underrated show starring the underrated David Janssen. I'm working my way through the two pilot movies and the first season of episodes. You don't see TV like this anymore.

I've always wanted to live near the water. I guess Norris Lake would be more realistic than Coronado, California, the Mississippi Gulf Coast, or Lahaina, Maui. But one can dream.

The interns have returned for the summer. We call them that. It's actually a six-week summer camp, if you will, in which we tour various businesses around town and try to teach them a thing or two about herding words. I joined them for lunch today at Litton's. They are all in middle or high school and have their lives ahead of them. It makes me almost envious.

I told them if they find a job they love, they will never work a day in their lives. That's mostly true.

Speaking of which, I've got to head out to an interview in a few minutes. Hope you all are having a good afternoon.

Meanwhile, I'll be dreaming about a little cottage by the coast, the surf splashing onto shore, no deadlines, no commitments. Chances are I'll be humming that Jimmy Buffett tune.

"If the phone doesn't ring, it's me." 

This is Jim Rockford...

I know, I know. I'm neglecting "Dr. Who."

But Netflix Instant has "The Rockford Files." And, uh, yeah. The good doctor can wait a day or two.

Well, what gave me the idea was watching a few episodes of "Harry O," the underrated 1970s TV series starring the underrated David Janssen as private detective Harry Orwell. My new friend Tom told me if I liked "The Fugitive" (which you know I do), that I would love "Harry O." Remembered seeing it as a kid, but only could recall that Janssen's character lived on the beach and had to leave the police force because he took a bullet in the back. I'll write a separate post on the show later.

So, anyway, seeing Harry O on the beach made me think of Jim Rockford. Surfed over to Netflix. Sure enough, there he was.

It's good fodder for late night fun, which is where I found the show in the beginning, late night reruns. Used to love it when Rockford would slam his Pontiac Firebird in reverse, floor it, then do a 180-degree turn while chasing the bad guys. I liked Rockford for some of the same reasons I like Thomas Magnum. He tries to talk his way out of sticky wickets and gets beat up a lot. James Garner was born for this role. I like Rockford even better than Maverick.

The pilot episode co-starred Lindsay Wagner and a different guy playing Jim's dad. Noah Beery Jr. showed up in the second show.

Remember the hilarious messages left on Rockford's answering machine? I hear these became a bit of a bother to the writers, as Norm Peterson's entrance lines would be a decade later on "Cheers." Ah, well. It was worth it.

Stephen J. Cannell produced and co-created "Rockford" with Roy Huggins (who created "The Fugitive"). I liked most of Cannell's shows. Yes, that includes "The Greatest American Hero."

But there's just something about these '70s detective shows. Especially the ones with a sense of humor. As much as I love the original "Hawaii Five-O," Steve McGarrett didn't crack many one-liners. "Book 'em, Danno!" hardly brought the house down.

That's OK. Jim Rockford more than made up for it.

Sue me. I'm stuck in the '70s.

'A Sensitive, Passionate Man'

Heartbreaking.

That's how I would describe "A Sensitive, Passionate Man," a 1977 TV movie starring David Janssen as a laid-off rocket engineer whose life spirals out of control as he descends into alcoholism.

My friend Beverly recommended the movie after I saluted Janssen, who I think is a wonderful, underrated actor, on what would have been his birthday.

Sue Mudge, on the Facebook fan page for Janssen's most famous TV series, "The Fugitive," said she has a love/hate relationship with the production. She loved it at the time it aired, but as it turned out, Janssen was having his own problems with alcohol during filming. (He died in 1980 at age 48.)

Just remember, she said, this isn't our hero, Dr. Richard Kimble.

That being said, it's an excellent piece of work.

Janssen's Michael Delaney fits the description of the film's title. He is obviously in love with wife Marjorie, played to perfection by Angie Dickinson.

But he's fighting a one-two punch: his father's alcoholism/early death and Delaney's depression following his layoff. He seeks solace in the bottle.

This isn't a Friday night popcorn movie. It's a disturbing portrait of a pitiful (in the charitable sense) disease.

But it shows off Janssen's acting chops and casts him in a darker light than the good-guy image to which fans of his three TV series (the other two are "Richard Diamond" and "Harry O") are accustomed. Dickinson also tends to be underrated because of her physical beauty. Here, she takes a difficult role and makes you feel her pain, to coin a phrase.

I don't know that I will watch this movie again, but I am glad I screened it. It is a noteworthy part of Janssen's filmography along with his TV work and appearances in such movies as "Marooned" and "The Green Berets."

 Knowing that Janssen's fate was similar to Michael Delaney's, though, makes this a particularly poignant performance.

Happy birthday to 'The Fugitive'

Remembering a favorite actor, the late David Janssen, on his birthday.

For my money, he is scandalously underrated. You might know him as Dr. Richard Kimble aka "The Fugitive." Or Richard Diamond. Or Harry-O. Or the reporter from "The Green Berets."

He is also in an underrated 1969 sci-fi flick called "Marooned," which co-stars Gregory Peck and Richard Crenna.  

If you happen to get "ME-TV," give "The Fugitive" a look. It is among the 10 best series in the history of American television.

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.