(Originally
published 9/29/17)
Recently,
I purchased the third season of Ironside starring Raymond Burr. Why the
third? No special reason. It wasn’t that I remembered it as a superior season
or one that contained favorite episodes. I only know that—twenty years ago—I
purchased the first two seasons of the show on VHS tapes. I received one tape
every six weeks with four episodes on it. Getting the whole kit and caboodle in
one fell swoop wasn’t an option back then, which—if nothing else—prevented
binge watching.
Just
having the opportunity to revisit an old show like
Ironside again, which
is hard to come by in reruns, was pleasure enough. And even when old TV
classics turn up in syndication nowadays, commercial time has mushroomed well
above the allotments of network television when
Ironside first aired.
Taking meat cleavers to shows from yesteryear—and chopping them down by ten to
twelve minutes—leaves a lot unsaid. To make matters worse, it’s often clueless
individuals who are given the task of gutting the likes of
Ironside by twenty
percent. Doing this to
Blue’s Clues might not blow holes in the plot,
but 1960s and 1970s crime dramas lose a great deal in their abridged
translations.
Anyway,
back to
Ironside, uncut and in living color. The show has got a winning
opening theme by Quincy Jones. With its burly lead character, Chief Robert
Ironside, wheelchair-bound throughout
Ironside’s eight-year run, I will
concede that the intro and episodes themselves have a campy feel all these
years later. The irascible Chief twisting, turning, and chugging along can be a
bit distracting at times. Let’s not forget that the man also loved canned
chili, which he consumed regularly with undisguised glee. Although it always
crosses my mind when the chili-loving is raised, flatulence was never once
addressed—as far as I know—on the show. It’s funny that Detective Columbo was
partial to chili as well. A coincidence? If only
Ironside and
Columbo
had done a crossover episode. The detectives could have enjoyed a bowl together
and compared notes.
The
filming side of Ironside runs the gamut: some atmospheric location shots
in San Francisco and the surrounding area at one moment, then the actors
sitting in front of a screen featuring moving traffic or some such thing. The Ironside
players—the Chief, Mark, Ed, and Eve—are, too, frequently going to bat for
friends, former lovers, or relatives in trouble. I suppose it’s common in life
to have a pal who is accused of murder or an old classmate who is up to his ass
in alligators with the wise guys. It just hasn't been my experience yet.
Now that
Ironside’s
peculiarities have been cataloged, I must say that I fancy it. I didn’t
watch the show when it originally aired. In fact, when I was very young, the
opening segment featuring the Chief getting gunned down—in the back no
less—gave me the willies. Instead, I discovered
Ironside in 1980s
reruns, when New York City local stations showed such stuff during the
afternoon hours and before the advertising deluge took so much away.
When I
watch shows like Ironside—and spy the copyright—I can’t help but feel
nostalgic. I find myself imagining what my life was like when an episode
originally aired. Season three of Ironside appeared on the 1969-1970 prime time
schedule. I was in the second grade at St. John’s grammar school. I had one of
my all-time favorite teachers, Mrs. Kehayas, that school year. She had
show-and-tell sessions. I remember bringing in a clock that I received for
Christmas—a unique timepiece that didn’t actually keep time. Rather, it chugged
along—like Chief Ironside—in five-minute increments. It’s five after two; ten
after two; quarter after two. I showcased my proficiency in telling time to my
seven-year-old peers. If only I had that special clock now on my curio shelf
because time keeps on ticking, ticking into the future. It also waits
for no man and no woman, including Old Ironside and me.
(Photos
from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)
