I’m still a little shaky this week after learning of the passing of a man who is almost a member of my family – Jim Rockford, the TV Private Eye.

 

Rockford solved his last case last week as the series is going off the air after a six year run because series star James Garner is sick and also tired of doing it.

Garner has always been of my favorite actors ever since the Maverick series. I still watch “Maverick” reruns every chance I get. 

 

In essence, Jim Rockford had a lot of the same seeds as Bret Maverick.  Both were con men with dubious professions – Maverick a gambler and Rockford a Private Eye. Both had an underlying honesty that got them into all sorts of trouble and foiled any chance at the real financial killing  they professed to yearn after.

Garner as Rockford was a mixture of the cartoon strip losers Ziggy & Charlie Brown, characters you knew  would triumph in the end.  Sort of.

 

Ziggy wakes up feeling great like there is something special heading his way, then opens the shade to see a wrecking ball heading toward his window. 

Charlie Brown buys a terribly ugly Christmas tree everyone laughs at, but even when he is vindicated by it being beautiful when decorated everybody still thinks he’s a blockhead for buying it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rockford’s appeal is to the sense of loser/winner in us all.  I enjoy Humphry Bogart’s toughness as a private eye but not sure I could achieve it myself.  Rockford, him I might could be.

 

Rockford ducks violence every chance he gets, but belts three bad guys if he has to and then grabs his hand in pain afterward.  He seems to never get paid, but when large sums of money are dangled in front of him he refuses to go back on his principles.  He’s a victim but still a winner because he comes out with the satisfaction that good deeds have been done and the case solved.

 

I’ve always felt I had good deductive ability since I always won at games of Clue and I know in my heart if I were to be a private eye I would emulate Rockford. I could never let a damsel in distress go unsaved, even if the bank threatened to repo my trailer.  As a fellow trailer dweller, I’ve always identified with Rockford, who brought a new respectability to mobile home living. I’ve even thought of buying an answering machine, but held off as I knew I would get wacky messages like Rockford.

 

I’ll admit that all my heroes have been cowboys or con men, which some folks will say is redundant. I love Paul Newman in “Cool Hand Luke”, Robert Redford in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “The Sting”, Burt Reynolds in almost anything, no matter how bad the movie, Robert Wagner in “It Takes a Thief” and of course, Rockford & Maverick.

 

I don’t really think it’s bad to identify with a man like Rockford.  There’s underlying goodness that only lets him con those who deserve it.  And I cherish the fantasy that if Rockford ever dreamed of being a journalist he would be one like me.

The only consolation is I missed a lot of Rockford episodes over the years because I worked as a sportswriter on Friday nights in the fall.  So, I still have the reruns to create new memories.  Someday I’ll be for “The Rockford Files” like Star Trek followers who can mouth every word of the scripts of episodes they’ve watched over and over.

 

“Rinnnggg”.  “This is Jim Rockford…at the tone please leave your name and number and I’ll get back with you.”  Beep. “Jim, this is Mike. I’m just calling to tell you to get well and to quote Bob Hope, thanks for the memories.”