WILLIAM LINK – The Columbo Collection. Crippen & Landru, hardcover/softcover, May 2010.

   Few television detectives are as iconic as Lieutenant Columbo of the Los Angeles Police Department. His mannerisms, his appearance, his methods — once you’ve seen him on TV, you’re not likely to forget Columbo.

   Those wonderful folks at Crippen & Landru — particularly Douglas Greene — over the years have been retrieving mystery ephemera that have been unjustly consigned to oblivion, as, for example, old radio scripts and short stories that often appeared only once and were inexplicably forgotten with their authors’ demise.

   With The Columbo Collection, however, C&L has persuaded a very much alive mystery master — William Link — to produce 12 new adventures featuring the always underestimated LAPD detective.

   For fans of the TV series, it’s like seeing a dozen new shows. (As with C&L’s reprints of Ellery Queen stories, in which you can’t help “hearing” and “seeing” Jim Hutton and David Wayne in your mind’s eye, so it is you’ll be “hearing” and “seeing” the peerless Peter Falk going through his paces.) But these “shows” can be “viewed” in 15 or 20 minutes, a mere fraction of the time the original series took.

   Although the emphasis is always on the plot — a good thing in its own right — William Link does add the occasional literary flourish that shows he’s not entirely bound to the telegraphic style of TV. No, The Columbo Collection isn’t “Great Art,” but it is an awful lot of fun.

1. “The Criminal Criminal Attorney.”   A hotshot lawyer gets his client acquitted of a rape charge only to turn right around and murder him. Lieutenant Columbo must break the killer’s alibi and track down some incriminating physical evidence, as well as figure out the motive for the slaying, before he can close this case.

2. “Grief.”   A retired physician is out walking his dog when he is struck by a car and killed. Circumstantial evidence would seem to support the obvious conclusion that it was a simple hit-and-run, but Lieutenant Columbo’s “instincts” (his word) tell him otherwise. By the time he resolves this case, he will have grown to appreciate all the more the ancient expression, Cave canem.

3. “A Dish Best Served Cold.”   An Iraq War veteran apparently commits suicide, but Lieutenant Columbo has “second thoughts” (again, his words), especially about the missing fingerprints and gunpowder residue. As he says, “Sometimes you can be too careful when you plan and carry out murder.”

4. “Ricochet.”   Columbo must overcome his fear of flying in the only way he knows how in order to visit New York City to follow up on a murder case. The problem is the prime suspect has an airtight alibi that places him 3,000 miles from the crime scene. Of course, people have been known to lie to protect others, but bullets drilled into a tree can only tell the truth.

5. “Scout’s Honor.”   In this one, the killer tries to help someone he loves by committing murder; but the irony is that he does too good a job of it and inadvertently ends up putting the person he wants to help squarely in the frame. Everything points to the wrong person being the killer, and from long experience Lieutenant Columbo knows that the physical evidence alone doesn’t tell the whole story.

6. “Sucker Punch.”   While they’re out jogging one morning, a professional boxer and his sparring partner are shot; one dies and the other is left in a coma. Columbo is called to Santa Clara to help with the investigation and discovers that his prime suspect lacks sufficient motive. If only he had dropped a bad habit, the real killer just might have gotten away with it. Even with 21st century forensics, it’s Columbo’s doggedness that nails the perp.

7. “The Blackest Mail.”   When a Hollywood starlet shoots a celebrity stalker to death, it looks like a case of self-defense — after all, he was carrying a knife. But Lieutenant Columbo senses there’s more to it, with little things that don’t quite compute, such as some missing money, a full tank of gas, that bullet in the garage door, and a few other discrepancies that point to blackmail rather than perverted love.

8. “The Gun That Wasn’t.”   A police detective is executed, Mafia-style, in his own house. Another detective sets out in hot pursuit but fails to catch, or even see, the killer(s). Columbo is on the case from the start; gradually he uncovers evidence that leads him away from the Mob and straight to someone with whom he’s been on a first name basis for years. What tips him off are missing candlesticks, andirons, and a widescreen TV.

9. “Requiem for a Hitman.”   It’s all so simple: Hire a hitman to kill the old judge and then in a surprise ambush shoot the hitman just after he’s done the deed. Neat. Tidy. Economical. But there’s an unexpected kink in the plan: The hitman has a relative — and it’s really a shame because this person is one of the very few people in Lieutenant Columbo’s universe who doesn’t mind it when he lights up a cigar.

10. “Trance.”   Lieutenant Columbo and his niece are attending a police charity event and witness an amusing act featuring a hypnotist having fun mesmerizing two policemen. Later that evening, however, things take a serious turn when the hypnotist’s estranged wife is found dead in her apartment, and one of the officers who’d been hypnotized is discovered, dazed and confused, at the scene, making him the prime suspect. The noose tightens when it’s learned this particular cop had an ongoing, illicit relationship with the victim. But for Columbo this open-and-shut case isn’t so airtight, especially when he comes to consider the importance of that one little bead he finds in the closet….

11. “Murder Allegro.”   A young and talented concert violinist is strangled in her hotel suite. From long experience Columbo is inclined to suspect the husband, but he has an ironclad alibi as well as no discernible motive to kill her. Columbo soon discovers that the husband was far from faithful to his wife.

   What finally clinches the case, however, is that charming Japanese custom of removing one’s footwear in indoor living spaces — and that seemingly trivial matter of a room key left inside a shoe.

12. “Photo Finish.”   When a woman discovers her husband has been having an affair with his “personal” secretary, she decides to issue a thirty-eight-caliber divorce decree. This woman scorned is quite intelligent, and it looks as if she just might get away with it — except for that flaky little cop who keeps asking uncomfortable questions — and that nosy next door neighbor — and that neglected copy of Business Week — and, most importantly, the fact that the camera does not lie. (This story — like several others in the collection — filters events through the consciousness of the killer, thereby slightly distancing the reader from Columbo and his thoughts.)

DEATH RAY 2000. NBC-TV Movie; aired 05 March 1981. (aka T. R. Sloane) Pilot for NBC-TV series A Man Called Sloane (1979-1980). QM Production/Woodruff Production. CAST: Robert Logan as Thomas R. Sloane, Dan O’Herlihy as The Director, Ann Turkel as Sabina, Maggie Cooper as Chrissy, Clive Revill as Erik Clawson, Ji-Tu Cumbuka as Torque, Michele Carey (voice) as Effie. Written and produced by Cliff Gould. Executive Producer: Philip Saltzman. Director: Lee H. Katzin.

   A gang of nuns walk into Gideon Peak Observatory where a scientist is testing a new top-secret “weather machine,” a device that can control the weather by removing all moisture from the atmosphere. The lone security guard informs them closing is in five minutes. The nuns, with the aid of Torque, a seven foot giant with a metal hand, dismantle the giant ray gun and take the large pieces out the backdoor to their van.

   Torque is most helpful when he substitutes a screwdriver for his index finger to remove some stubborn screws. The screws put up a better fight than the humans did, since security was virtually non-existent. When the scientist interrupts the heist, one of the nuns kills him with deadly thimble like devices on two of her fingers. The nuns and Torque with his Swiss army hand escape with the device.

   OK, I am hooked all ready. But this classic continues to produce more cheese than Wisconsin. Seems the ray gun is so powerful it can drain water for miles, through any object including mountains, and it can dehydrate people into nothing but bones and cute hair.

   Naturally the government is upset that someone has stolen a top-secret weapon that could destroy the world, a weapon they had left in a public building with only one friendly guard as security. They come to UNIT looking for help and begging for our hero Thomas R. Sloane.

   UNIT is a top-secret agency located in the farmlands of Kentucky where The Director works out of his house. This being a spy movie the house is of course not your typical home. It contains a six-ton computer named Effie, complete with a sexy female voice. And as all females in this story, Effie has fallen for the only man who can save the world, Thomas R. Sloane the 3rd.

   Sloane, following in the famous footsteps of his father, is a top secret agent and owner of Sloane & Sons, a successful art and antiquity business. We first meet the great spy as he successfully completes his mission in Cuba. He escapes the soldiers by rocketing an elevator through the roof and into the air where a waiting helicopter catches it.

   Robert Logan (77 Sunset Strip, The Adventures of the Wilderness Family) gives Sloane all the passion of someone wanting to take a nap. The rest of the cast is more animated, adding ham to all this cheese.

   The story travels the usual path, Sloane drives a great car, the evil mastermind has his pets (this time he cuddles with snakes and a spider), recurring fight scenes, sex interrupted or off stage (this is 70s TV), Rube Goldberg death traps, an evil organization named Kartel (“with a K”), and the villain meeting his end at his own hands.

   My favorite moment is when writer Cliff Gould (Mod Squad, Streets of San Francisco) makes his motives clear and uses cheese as a vital clue. Ian Fleming should be so clever.

   The most shocking twist didn’t come from the story, but the production credits for this cheese fest that would have made Aaron Spelling giggle. This was from Quinn Martin! The QM Productions of The Fugitive, The FBI, Cannon, etc.

   It was the final QM series to debut on television (Barnaby Jones would be the last on the air). There is no better example of how television changed during the seventies than compare Quinn Martin’s first series of 70s, Dan August (1970) to Quinn Martin’s last, A Man Called Sloane (1979).

   The movie was released on VHS but not on DVD. It can also be seen on YouTube in ten parts, starting here.

   There were changes made when this pilot lead to the series, A Man Called Sloane. Most notable was Robert Conrad replacing Robert Logan as Sloane and Torque the Swiss army hand bad guy becoming Sloane’s good guy sidekick.

The Files of Jeffrey Jones. CBS Television Film Sales. Lindsley Parsons Productions. Syndicated, 1952. 39 episodes x 30 minutes. CAST: Don Haggerty as Jeffrey Jones, Tristran Coffin as Lt. Doyle, Gloria Henry as Michelle “Mike” Malone, Vince Barnett as Joe.

   The following episode can be viewed at TV4u.com at this link. Scroll down and click on Files of Jeffrey Jones. Yes, that is a picture from Cases of Eddie Drake. Poor Jeff, when will people realize he is his own man?

“Killer Bait.” Written by Robert Raynor and Warren Douglas. Directed by Lew Landers.

   We open on a title card with a painting of a city at night. The episode title is featured larger and above “from the files of JEFFREY JONES.” The copyright is 1952. Playing over this is the worst theme music in television history.

   PI Jeffrey Jones arrives at his “office,” a Hollywood bistro called The Golden Bubble. Jeff, who had been studying for a law school exam, learns from the bartender (Frank Sully) everyone wants him to drop his client, a client Jeff did not know he had.

   There is a shipment of counterfeit one hundred dollar bills missing that is upsetting cops and mobsters alike. Jeff is beaten up by the bad guys, yelled at by Lt Doyle, and discovers two murder victims, all before he meets his “client,” who denies hiring Jeff.

   The client is framed for one of the murders. Jeff stays one step ahead of the cops as he eliminates suspect after suspect until he finds the killer in time for the final shoot out.

   You could see Haggerty was having fun with the smart aleck PI Jeffrey Jones. There were two femme fatales (played by two bad actresses), a couple of goons from Kansas City, an OK mystery driven by fistfights, and a script with a sense of humor.

   When the cops find Jeff in a locked closet recovering from his latest beating, Doyle asks him what he is doing there. Jeff replies, “Playing hide and seek.”

   The production values were above average for the time. Short scenes helped speed the pace of the episode, but the scenes themselves were too static, with director Lew Landers holding too long on each shot.

   If you are willing to forgive the limitation of the times, this is an entertaining TV PI show.

THE FILES OF JEFFREY JONES began shooting April 17, 1952 (Broadcasting, April 14,1952). While the exact date of when Jeffrey appeared on TV is still unknown, it was no later than June 7, 1952.

   The series was a hit from almost the beginning. According to a CBS Television Film Sales ad in Broadcasting (February 23, 1953), in less than eight months on the air the series was in 25 markets and in Telepulse’s Top Five ratings for syndicated film shows.

   The series took place in Hollywood (not New York as many claim today). The episode “Killer Bait” was missing two cast members, Michelle “Mike” Malone, a newspaper reporter played by Gloria Henry and Jeff’s friend Joe, played by Vince Barnett. Both actors were listed as cast members in the trades’ news reports and series’ ads (Billboard and Broadcast).

   Those who remember my earlier reviews of The Cases of Eddie Drake (links below), watched the episode “Shoot The Works” (link below) and read the two shows’ credits, now know Jeffrey was not produced by the same people who did Cases of Eddie Drake as is believed today.

   The series have only two things in common, star Don Haggerty and CBS Television Film Sales. So why do so many reference books and sites have this wrong?

   According to Broadcasting (February 25, 1952 and April 14, 1952), CBS TV Film Sales sold both series to sponsor Crawford Clothes Inc (via Al Paul Lefton Co. New York) to air on DuMont’s New York station WABD.

   Eddie Drake would start March 6, 1952 and run its 13 episodes. Once Eddie was done, Jeffrey Jones took over the time slot (on June 7, 1952). Jeffrey was originally scheduled to do 26 episodes but at some point expanded to 39. The two series would continue to be linked as CBS sometimes sold them together as a package to stations (Billboard, May 21, 1955).

   Sadly, Files of Jeffrey Jones and Cases of Eddie Drake will always be connected because both starred one of television’s first original stars.

   In an article in Broadcasting (September 13, 1954) about residuals and early television, “But TV has created its own stars, as Mr. Haggerty can testify. In 1948, shortly after he appeared in the live NBC-TV Mr. and Mrs. North, first play televised in New York, he was starred in CBS-TV Cases of Eddie Drake, second TV series filmed. However, both Eddie Drake and the first 26 segments of Jeffrey Jones were filmed prior to the SAG agreement date and as one of TV’s newest stars, Mr. Haggerty was unable to negotiate any residual deal himself.”

   The same article had Haggerty explain why so many series stars agreed to promote the sponsor’s product during the show’s commercial break, “the star makes more money from the commercials than from the program.”

   The Files of Jeffrey Jones was still available from CBS for syndication in 1963 (Broadcasting, March 25, 1963). Why isn’t this series on DVD?

OF ADDITIONAL INTEREST:

   Earlier reviews of The Cases of Eddie Drake:

https://mysteryfile.com/blog/?p=10405

https://mysteryfile.com/blog/?p=10427

https://mysteryfile.com/blog/?p=12204

   The Eddie Drake episode “Shoot The Works” can be seen here.

THE DELPHI BUREAU: THE MERCHANT OF DEATH ASSIGNMENT. TV-Movie Pilot for the ABC-TV series The Delphi Bureau. March 6, 1972. Warner Brothers. Two hours. CAST: Laurence Luckinbill as Glenn Garth Gregory, Celeste Holm as Sybil, Cameron Mitchell as Stokely, Joanna Pettet as April, Bob Crane as Charlie, Dean Jagger as Keller, Bradford Dillman as Jamison. Written and Produced by Sam Rolfe. Directed by Paul Wendkos.

    When surplus fighter planes begin to disappear, the President asks the top secret Delphi Bureau to find them. The Bureau is so secret it has no office, no record of existing, and, as far as its agent Glenn Garth Gregory knows, it has only two employees, him and his boss, Sybil, a Washington DC society hostess.

   Gregory is a researcher with a photographic memory and a dislike for danger. So he is quite upset when, after he discovers how the planes were taken, a fake cop tries to kill him. Sybil is less than sympathetic, and once they figure out where the planes may be hidden, she sends Gregory there, a large experimental farm outside a small town in Kansas.

   But first, Sybil tosses a party so Gregory, posing as an agricultural expert from the Department of Agriculture, can meet the prime suspect, Matthew Keller. Keller is a former arms merchant now an invalid and obsessed with farming and feeding the hungry, and surrounded by a mixed group of people. There is beautiful April who tries to warn Gregory away, the friendly therapist, terrified Jamison, and Stokely, a killer so cool he winks at Gregory when Gregory recognizes him.

   Writer-producer Sam Rolfe (Have Gun Will Travel, Man from U.N.C.L.E.) deserves to be better remembered for his work in television. Rolfe’s Glenn Garth Gregory did to the spy genre what James Rockford did to the PI genre. Both series enjoyed twisting almost mocking the tropes of the genre.

   Gregory was no dashing James Bond nor satirical Flint nor comedic Maxwell Smart. Glenn Garth Gregory was just a researcher. Granted a researcher with a photographic memory that gave him an encyclopedia in his head and the ability to escape traps that would rival MacGyver.

   The plot was played basically straight but with Rolfe’s usual touches of humor in the dialog and characters. There was a better than average TV mystery solved by Gregory advancing through twist after twist, discovering clues along the way, and falling into and escaping trap after trap.

   Luckinbill was convincing as the researcher forced to play spy to keep his job and its many rich benefits. Celeste Holm makes you believe her flighty society hostess character was also a tough spymaster as heartless as Bond’s M. Even the bad guys were fun, especially Cameron Mitchell’s remorseless killer Stokely and Brad Dillman’s neurotic Jamison.

   Perhaps the most unusual part of the show was a running limerick that bridged commercial breaks, one line at a time until the end when the limerick would be completed.

   The Merchant of Death Assignment would lead to the series The Delphi Bureau which premiered in October 1972 and shared a time slot with Assignment: Vienna and Jigsaw under the umbrella title of The Men.

   The Delphi Bureau lasted only eight one-hour TV episodes. It was then, and remains today, one of my favorite TV series.

   Neither the pilot nor the series is currently available on DVD or online. A very poor quality video of the opening sequence of the series can be found here on YouTube, while a two-minute segment from the pilot was posted there by Laurence Luckinbill a couple of years ago.

   One can only hope Warner Archives, that has blessed us with Made On Demand DVDs of the TV-Movie pilots Probe (Search) and Smile Jenny, You’re Dead (Harry O) will do the same for The Merchant of Death Assignment (The Delphi Bureau).

“Back for Christmas.” An episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Season 1, Episode 23. First airdate: March 4, 1956. John Williams (Herbert), Isabel Elsom (Hermione). Teleplay: Francis M. Cockrell, based on the story by John Collier (The New Yorker, 1939). Director: Alfred Hitchcock.

   While there are eleven speaking parts in this teleplay, only two really matter: Herbert, the put-upon, repressed husband (masterfully underplayed by quintessential British actor John Williams), and his officious wife Hermione (Elsom).

   Our first impression is aural: the sound of someone digging. It’s Herbert, ostensibly excavating an area for a wine cellar.

   When Hermione comes down to check on him, the camera pans and lingers over her in a subjective POV shot from Herbert’s point of view. Later, Hitchcock will give us another long, lingering POV shot of Hermione as the couple are entertaining friends. In both instances, Herbert’s face all but telegraphs his intentions — but no one, especially Hermione, seems to notice.

   Once Herbert hefts an iron pipe, looks sideways at his wife, and — when she has gone back upstairs — checks his passport to confirm how tall she is compared to the hole he’s digging, the audience member who hasn’t caught on by now to what he’s planning really should be ashamed of himself.

   Like anyone who has carefully planned to commit a crime, Herbert has been meticulous almost to a fault — but also like most premeditating criminals, Herbert fails to allow for the unexpected….

   Not to be confused with the American music composer of the same name, John Williams (1903-83) was one of Alfred Hitchcock’s favorite actors. He appeared ten times on Alfred Hitchcock Presents from 1955-59.

   Prior to that, he had won a Broadway Tony Award for playing Chief Inspector Hubbard in Dial M for Murder (1953), a role he would reprise for Hitchcock’s film version (1954), in which he delivers the memorable line: “They talk about flat-footed policemen. May the saints protect us from the gifted amateur.”

   Williams also had a substantial supporting part in To Catch a Thief (1955), dogging jewel thief Cary Grant for most of the film. And he was a pivotal character in the Thriller series adaptation of Robert Bloch’s “Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper” (1961), ironically an episode directed by Ray Milland, the killer he brought down in Dial M for Murder.

   No suprise that he would be cast as William Shakespeare in a Twilight Zone episode (1963), frequently and ostentatiously quoting … himself.

   John Collier (1901-80) has 27 credits on the IMDb, including seven Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1956-61), one Alfred Hitchcock Hour (1964), and six Tales of the Unexpected (1980-85), among them a remake of “Back for Christmas.”

   The original “Back for Christmas” can be viewed on Hulu here. A fairly detailed discussion of this episode can be found at Senses of Cinema here.

B.L. STRYKER. Universal. Part of the rotating series in ABC Mystery Movie (with Columbo, Kojak, Gideon Oliver, Christine Cromwell) February 1989 through August 1990. Two seasons; 12 episodes, two hours each. CAST: Burt Reynolds as B.L. (Buddy Lee) Stryker, Ossie Davis as Oz Jackson, Rita Moreno as Kimberly, Michael O. Smith as Chief McGee. Created by Christopher Crowe. Executive Producer: Tom Selleck. Co-Executive Producer: Burt Reynolds. Supervising Executive Producer: William Link. Producer: Alan Barnette. Story Editor: Joe Gores.

“The Dancer’s Touch” (February 13, 1989) Guest Cast: Helen Shaver as Diane. Teleplay by Leon Piedmont and Walter Klenhard and Chriss Abbott. Story by Leon Piedmont. Directed by William Fraker.

   As a New Orleans cop, Stryker could get into the mind of the bad guy until he would know the bad guy’s next move before he did. After too many bad guys in his head, Stryker snapped and beat a rapist nearly to death. Now he tries to make it through the day living on a broken down houseboat on the “wrong side of the river” of his hometown, Palm Beach. Helping him is his best friend, a washed up boxer, Oz Jackson.

   But Stryker’s past has caught up with him as a rapist, using the exact same methods as the one from New Orleans, is attacking rich young girls on the “right side of the river” of Palm Beach.

   The chemistry between Reynolds and Davis and the relationship between their characters is special and their scenes together are the best this show has to offer. Sadly, it is not enough to overcome the weak mystery, bad melodrama, predictable twists, and a sea of cliches.

   The supporting cast features such overused types as the frustrated Police Chief who looks the other way while Stryker gets things done, the rich annoying ex-wife, the ex-wife’s maid who speaks her mind, and the comedy relief neighbor.

   The story fails at nearly every level. For example, there are several scenes with the wacko rapist alone dancing in the dark. The purpose is to make the villain creepy and menacing but instead the scenes induce laughter.

   The killer was easy to guess since there were no suspects. The victims were obvious. Every twist was predictable. That is except for Stryker, who was as clueless as the mystery, and only defeated the killer-rapist because he was suicidal.

“Carolann” (March 6, 1989) Guest Cast: Deborah Raffin as Carolann. Written by Hall Powell and Jay Huguely. Directed by Tony Wharmby.

   Carefree ex-cop Stryker gets his first case as a PI when he saves the life of a Queen of a Middle East country, whose gun running King had just been killed. By coincidence the Queen just happens to be the little sister of Stryker’s childhood best friend.

   This is a slow tedious two hours with a story featuring more padding than mystery. Why bother with suspects when the story can focus on the reminisces and romance between the just yesterday widow and her childhood crush, Stryker?

   How about a subplot with Stryker fixing up Oz with his ex-wife’s maid? You want action? Watch the Queen seduce Stryker with a cigar. Watch the two exchange long, long, long silent but meaningful looks. Detective work? How about a montage of Oz searching “the streets” for someone while Mike Post’s soundtrack screams in the background?

   This episode introduces Stryker’s screwball secretary to run his office in a beachfront condemned building. Lyynda, with a photographic memory and too cute name, will take the job only if her dog stays with her.

   Stryker hates dogs. After that Stryker takes the dog with him everywhere, including when he and his comic relief neighbor, now millionaire computer genius, sneak into the police station to illegally use the Chief’s computer.

   As for the ending, everyone involved should be in jail for theft.

   This “Best Of” DVD is a major disappointment considering William Link (Colombo) and Joe Gores (Hammett) worked on this series, and Robert B. Parker (Spenser) and his wife Joan H. Parker wrote the Edgar nominated episode “Blues For Buder.”

   The entire series is available on DVD, but suffering through these two episodes is enough for me.

   As prolific as Edward D. Hoch was — with over 900 short stories to his credit — the movie and TV media have made virtually no use of his output. The Internet Movie Database (IMDb) lists just 9 films derived from his works (9/900 = 1 percent). No more eloquent testimony against the obtuseness of Hollywood can be adduced.

1. “Off Season.” The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, May 10, 1965. With John Gavin, Richard Jaeckel, and Tom Drake. Based on Hoch’s story “Winter Run,” this is a nice little crime drama with a nasty twist. This show was the final one of the Hitchcock series.

2. It Takes All Kinds. Film, 1969, based on the story “A Girl Like Cathy.” With Robert Lansing, Vera Miles, and Barry Sullivan. Film critic Leonard Maltin describes it this way: “Fair double cross drama about Miles’ shielding of Lansing when he accidentally kills sailor in a brawl in Australia. Nothing special.”

3. “The Ring with the Red Velvet Ropes.” Rod Serling’s Night Gallery, November 5, 1972. With Gary Lockwood, Joan Van Ark, and Chuck Connors. I’m sure I saw this one but don’t remember a thing about it.

    The TV series McMillan & Wife (1971-77) made good use of Hoch’s stories:

4. “Cop of the Year.” November 19, 1972. With Rock Hudson, Susan Saint James, John Schuck, Nancy Walker, and Edmond O’Brien. Based on “The Leopold Locked Room,” with John Schuck’s character doubling for Captain Leopold. Neat little impossible crime plot, with Schuck accused of murdering his ex-wife.

5. “Free Fall to Terror.” November 11, 1973. Guest stars: Edward Andrews, Tom Bosley, Barbara Feldon, John Fiedler, Dick Haymes, James Olson, and Barbara Rhoades. Based on one of Hoch’s best stories (“The Long Way Down”), a businessman evidently crashes through a plate glass window, disappears in mid-air, and hits the ground — three hours later.

6. “The Man without a Face.” January 6, 1974. Guest stars: Dana Wynter, Nehemiah Persoff, Stephen McNally, Donna Douglas, and Steve Forrest. Cold War espionage with a mystery slant.

    The French produced a mini-series in the mid-’70s:

7. Nick Verlaine ou Comment voler la Tour Eiffel. Five episodes, France, July-August 1976. If anybody knows anything about this production, please inform us.

   The British horror/fantasy series Tales of the Unexpected used a couple of Hoch’s stories as inspiration:

8. “The Man at the Top.” June 14, 1980. Introducer: Roald Dahl. With Peter Firth, Rachel Davies, and Dallas Cavell.

9. “The Vorpal Blade.” May 28, 1983. With Peter Cushing, Anthony Higgins, John Bailey, and Andrew Bicknell.

    — and, unless the IMDb list is woefully incomplete, that’s the extent of the film industry’s use of Edward D. Hoch’s stories.

Hi Steve,

   Some friends and I just got wind of this virtually unknown CBS-TV series a couple of months ago accidentally, via an odd old Google News result from Billboard magazine about notable composer Alex North’s jazz theme.

   There’s no mention of the 1959 series in John McAleer’s humongous Stout biography, although a pilot plus a few episodes were actually filmed and it came within an eyelash of being Nero Wolfe’s TV debut — contradicts the conventional wisdom that Stout had vetoed any further screen adaptations during his lifetime due to his disappointment with the 1930s movies.

   Here it is, complete with the lone screenshot evidence we found — Shatner’s Archie with Kurt Kasnar’s Wolfe — on Wikipedia’s entries for Nero Wolfe and Shatner:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nero_Wolfe#Nero_Wolfe_.28CBS.29

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shatner#Early_stage.2C_film.2C_and_television_work

   Alerting you because I remember Mystery*File and its followers expressing interest in early “NW” adaptations that were or might have been, and this one’s quite a revelation.

TOUGH LOVE. Granada TV, UK, May 2000. 2 x 90min, less adverts. Ray Winstone, Adrian Dunbar. Written by Edward Canfor-Dumas. Director: David Drury.

   Tough Love was a two-parter about the possible corruption of a tough zero-tolerance detective chief inspector who happened to be called Love.

   The programme starts with Love, played by Adrian Dunbar (on the left), picking up an award from the mayor of his northern city for the way in which his methods had cut the crime figures drastically. Intercut with this was the gangland style killing of a clearly lowlife thug.

   Soon after, Love’s longtime sidekick, the hard-bitten career policeman Detective Constable Lenny Milton (the lead role played by Ray Winstone), is approached by someone from the police corruption agency who says that the murdered man had evidence that Love is corrupt. Milton is forced to cooperate but believes that doing so will clear his friend from the charges.

   Of course it’s not as simple as that and soon he is investigating a murder in The Big Clock style, not knowing if he can count on the corruption officers to help him.

   There is much talk about the nature of corruption and the philosophy of a smaller evil being useful to counter bigger evils. This was a superior production though possibly falling just lower than top-notch.

   [Incidentally there is a real life northern Detective Superintendent over here who has cut crime figures in his area by a policy of zero tolerance. He has recently been cleared of corruption charges but remains suspended, something like three years after the initial inquiry. Clearly this has been the impetus for this fictional production.]

   As a long time fan of radio’s Adventures of Sam Spade, I have wanted to sample an episode of Charlie Wild for over forty years. While there are no known surviving copies of the NBC or CBS radio show I have found an available DuMont TV episode online at tv4u.com. [Scroll down to the Charlie Wild photo and link.]

   But before we get to my review let’s examine the history of Charlie Wild, Private Detective (aka Charlie Wild, Private Eye).

   In radio and early television, the networks sold time slots to advertisers. Wildroot Hair Tonic paid through Batten, Barton, Durstine & Osborn ad agency to NBC for the Sunday 5:30pm half hour slot to air Adventures of Sam Spade. The series was popular with radio listeners and critics, but there were growing problems. Wildroot decided to drop the series.

   Broadcasting (September 25, 1950) reported over 6,000 letters requesting Sam Spade remain on the air. Wildroot and BBD&O denied the listing of star Howard Duff in “Red Channels” as a possible communist was the cause. They claimed it was due to the need for a lower budget so Wildroot could increase its spending in television.

   When Wildroot dropped Spade, it had also reduced the time slots they owned from two to one. Producer-director William Spier, who owned a piece of Sam Spade radio series, confirmed there had been an attempt to budget radio and TV versions of Sam Spade, but no agreement could be reached.

    “WILDROOT DROPS ONE DICK, PICKS ANOTHER PRIVATE EYE. Wildroot, which recently dropped Sam Spade, last week bought Charlie Wild, Private Eye, for its Sunday afternoon time on NBC.” (Billboard, September 9, 1950)

NBC RADIO. September 24, 1950 through December 17, 1950. Sunday 5:30-6pm (E). 13 episodes. George Petrie as Charlie Wild. Written by Peter Barry. Directed by Carlo D’Angelo. Produced by Lawrence White.

   Broadcasting (August 28, 1950): “Wildroot Co, Buffalo will sponsor agency-created program titled Charlie Wild, Private Eye…”

   In Billboard (October 7, 1950), reviewing the first radio episode of Charlie Wild, Leon Morse wrote, “Cut from the Sam Spade pattern with all the familiar ingredients, this detective series should also establish itself with the aid of some sharper scripting.” Morse found “George Petrie’s acting of the private eye was slick and smooth…”

   While Charlie was a rip-off of Spade, Charlie was not Sam. It was Sam Spade (Howard Duff) who introduce Charlie Wild (George Petrie) to the radio audience, according to Spade historian John Scheinfeld. Also Sam and Charlie were both on NBC radio (Spade on Friday and Wild on Sunday) November 17th through December 17th.

   Wildroot wanted Charlie Wild on TV as well as radio.

   December 2, 1950 Billboard reported, “NBC’s loss of the $500,000 Wildroot radio billings for Charlie Wild, and half again as much for the projected TV version, was the direct result of the web’s being in such healthy shape in TV. Because NBC-TV could not provide the sponsor with a time slot for the new video version, Wildroot approached CBS-TV. That net agreed to take the business- if the radio version switched from NBC too. Total gain for CBS – about $750,000.”

CBS RADIO. January 7, 1951 through July 1, 1951. Sunday 6-6:30pm (E). Weekly. 26 episodes.

CBS TELEVISION. December 22, 1950 through April 6 (or 13), 1951. Friday 9-9:30pm (E). Alternate weeks.
    — April 18, 1951 through June 27, 1951. Wednesday 9-9:30pm (E). Weekly.

   Charlie Wild played by Kevin O’Morrison (December through March), John McQuade (March 1951 through rest of series). Sponsored by Wildroot Company Inc through BBDO via CBS. Produced by Lawrence White and Walter Tibbals for Regis Radio. Written by Peter Barry. Directed by Paul Nickell.

   The Billboard (January 6, 1951) review of the Charlie Wild, Private Detective TV premiere found that “O’Morrison was sufficiently engaging tele-wise as redoubtable Wild.” Reviewer Bob Francis also wrote, “What Wild needs is more original story approach and less hokum.”

   Dates get confusing for the television series (perhaps some strong brave TV Guide collector could save the day). While the TV series aired on alternate Fridays, the radio series was weekly and on Sunday. It appears there were more radio episodes produced than television.

   In the June 9, 1951 issue of Billboard, “…the cancellation this week of the simulcast version of Charlie Wild, Private Eye on Columbia Broadcasting System’s radio & TV networks by Wildroot… Wildroot brought Charlie Wild over from NBC, but the program failed to catch on sufficiently to make for renewal.”

   That was the end of Wildroot’s involvement with Charlie, as well as the end of Charlie on radio, but it was not the end of Charlie Wild. Billboard (August 11, 1951) reported Mogen David Wine Corporation of America through agency Weiss & Geller decided to sponsor Charlie Wild and moved him to ABC-TV.

ABC TELEVISION. September 11, 1951 through March 4, 1952. Tuesday 8-8:30pm (E). Larry White Productions. Executive produced by Herbert Brodkin. Produced by Larry White. John McQuade as Charlie Wild.

   In a Billboard (September 22, 1951) review of episode “The Case of the Sad Eyed Clam” written by Stanley Niss and directed by Leonard Valenta, critic Haps Kemper wrote, “Clam’s plot was routine, the script hardly scintillating, and the performances unenthusiastic…”

   ABC was having major financial problems and was trying to convince the FCC to approve ABC’s desire to merge with United Paramount Theatres. (DuMont was the chief opposition. For more about that story read Billboard March 1, 1952, page 6.) Many of the advertisers panicked and removed their programs from ABC. Mogen David took Charlie Wild to DuMont.

DUMONT TELEVISION. March 13, 1952 through June 19, 1952. (*) Thursday 10-10:30pm. DuMont Presentation in association with L. White and E. Rosenberg Production. Sponsor was Mogen David Wine

    (*) According to Broadcasting (July 7, 1952), Charlie was still on the DuMont schedule in July. The Los Angeles Times had Charlie airing on KTTV-TV Los Angeles at Thursday 8:30-9pm (P) as late as July 31, 1952.

“The Case of Double Trouble.” Cast: John McQuade as Charlie Wild, John Shellie as Captain O’Connell, Philip Truex as Tillinghost, Philippa Bevans as Amanda. Produced by Herbert Broadkin. Directed by Charles Adams. Written by Palmer Thompson. Television director was Barry Shear.

   This was DuMont so it is no surprise the production values were cheap. Shooting live and in small sets limited the possibilities for action, forcing the story to rely too heavily on the weak dialog and disappointing cast. John McQuade performance as Charlie was lackluster.

   We open as Charlie is talking into a Dictaphone to “Sweetheart.” He tells her about “The Case of Double Trouble.” It began when Charlie’s pal Police Captain O’Connell found an envelope outside Charlie’s door. The Captain and Charlie plan to have dinner together. The envelope contains half of a five hundred dollar bill and a promise for the other half when Charlie takes a unknown client’s case.

   It is late Friday and despite a hungry Captain tagging along, Charlie meets the client. The client wants Charlie to protect a priceless parchment in a sealed envelope for the weekend. Charlie takes the envelope back to his office where he is knocked out by a huge ruthless woman and her pipsqueak husband.

   Charlie wakes up and calls O’Connell who is still waiting for his dinner. Charlie tells his pal to go up to the client’s hotel room and keep him there until Charlie can get there.

   Soon, all the characters gather in the room, there is a required fight, and all is revealed. We end back with Charlie on the Dictaphone telling “Sweetheart” there is money in the safe minus what he and the Captain spent on dinner.

    “Get Wildroot Cream Oil, Charlie/It keeps your hair in trim/You see it’s non-alcoholic, Charlie/It’s made with soothing lanolin…”

   One of my goals, with these research heavy reviews, is to focus on the source materials of the time the series was made in an effort to confirm or disprove the current historical views which too often is riddled with misinformation. There remains questions about Charlie Wild I was unable to confirm or disprove.

   Did the series title come from the Wildroot commercial jingle that advised Charlie to get the hair product? Probably. Oddly, each of the Billboard’s reviews discussed the commercial but made no mention of any connection between the series title and the commercial jingle.

   What role did Dashiell Hammett’s character, Sam Spade’s secretary Effie Perrin play in Charlie Wild? I find it hard to believe Wild’s secretary and Spade’s secretary was the same character. I found no mention of Wild’s secretary by any name, not even in the reviews. Try reviewing radio’s Sam Spade without mentioning his secretary.

   Currently, it is unknown who played Charlie Wild’s secretary in the NBC radio series. It is commonly accepted today that Cloris Leachman played TV’s Charlie Wild’s secretary Effie Perrin.

   Hopefully, someday a copy of the NBC radio Charlie Wild with George Petrie (who would have been a better replacement for Howard Duff as Sam Spade than Steve Dunne) will be found. I wonder what reaction the audience (to say nothing about the lawyers) had if Effie Perrin was Wild’s secretary in New York on NBC, Sunday at 5:30pm and Sam Spade’s secretary in San Francisco on NBC, Friday at 8:30pm.

   There remain fifteen Charlie Wild TV episodes at the UCLA Film and Television Archive, as well as some at the Paley Center. These could hold the answer about Effie, if she did not spend all of her time off stage as she did in “The Case of Double Trouble.” Was Charlie Wild’s secretary Effie Perrin or, as I suspect, another character called Effie?

       ADDITIONAL SOURCES:

On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio by John Denning.
JJ Radio logs: http://www. jjonz.us/RadioLogs
Mystery*File: https://mysteryfile.com/blog/?p=8425