Cooler in the 70s - The Rockford Files

What's happening, guys? Long time, no see.

Got a chance to watch the pilot episode of The Rockford Files last weekend, and it got me thinking about the interesting decisions networks (especially in the US) make in between the pilot episode and the beginning of a series proper.

The pilot episode lays out all the basic you need to know about the life of Jim Rockford, Private Investigator. He's usually broke and owes money to someone, he's a bit of a coward but he can often smart-talk or fast-act his way out of a bad situation, he lives in a trailer on the beach with his dad, and he has a thing for the ladies. Well, he's a PI in the 70s, of course he has a thing for the ladies.

What else? He drives a metallic bronze Pontiac (looks like a 73 Firebird, but could be a Grand Am - I'm sure you car buffs out there will be able to help), he spent 5 years in state pen for a robbery he or may not have committed, his was the first time I had ever seen or heard of an answering machine, and he has better dress sense than about anyone else on the show.

As Jim Rockford, James Garner displays the same kind of rugged, easy-going, charmer that made him famous in the earlier Maverick. Were he a little younger, even, he would have made a great Indiana Jones in 1981.

Now once this is all set up in the pilot, once you get to the first real episode you notice a couple of things straight away.

1. His dad is played by a different actor (this kind of thing happens all the time).
2. The Pontiac that was blown up in the desert by a guy in a plane with a machine gun has miraculously returned.
3. The music that opened the pilot, but did not play under the credits, is now the official theme tune of The Rockford Files.

There's also a couple of format additions. First, there's a teaser section where they show you some upcoming scenes from the show you're about to watch, then you get the now-infamous answering machine messages. This did not appear in the pilot, but The Rockford Files wouldn't be the same without them now. There's a great Rockford Files website out there that not only breaks down all the episodes as it ran from 1974 to 1980, but also has audio files of all the answering machine messages, too. Excellent little bit of archiving there. The Museum of Television and Radio should be proud.

I have to admit I do have a soft spot in my heart for this show. It was character-driven, but had fun plots and some great car chases (and, as seen above, truck chases). Testament to some awesome stunt work, the kind you found all through 70s US TV shows.

Until next time, hang loose.

Exactly the same in the 70s: Vandalism

While all you Daily Mail readers are whining about the country going to hell in a handbasket thanks to "the kids today", just shut your eyes and listen to this little Public Information Film from back in 1970. Yep, 38 years ago, the exact same conversation was still going on. Some things really never change.

Well, except mustaches and those swinging haircuts.

Things you could get away with in the 70s - part three

There is a link here. Apache - Lone Ranger - Kenny Everett. It's impossible to explain old Kenny, but he was completely beloved in the UK in the 70s and early 80s. The bawdy humour was similar to that of Benny Hill, but not lecherous, and somehow there was a warmth to him that Benny didn't have.

Here's a wee warning, though. This video, strangely, is Not Really Safe For Work, despite the fact that it was broadcast at 8pm on ITV and neither my mum nor dad thought there was anything in it I shouldn't be watching at the age of 7. The Kenny Everett Video Show was anarchic, sexy, silly, and above all hilarious over-the-top fun. Possibly the most dangerous he ever got was the creation of a character called Cupid Stunt, but hey, that was the 80s, and we don't like to talk about 'round these here parts.

Poor little bugger. I miss the guy.

Little known fact: Kenny was the voice of Charley the Cat from those scary public information films we showed you last month. True story, found it in Wikipedia.

Things you get away with in the 70s - Part Two

Everything in this song, apparently. Sorry there's no real video for it, but it does give you a chance to really listen to the lyrics.

The chant at the beginning and middle-eight is actually the Maori name for a hill in New Zealand. Thanks to the power of the internet, you can now chant along perfectly:

Taumata-whaka-tangi-hanga-kuayuwo
tamate-aturi-pukaku-piki-maunga
horonuku-pokaiawhen-uaka-tana-tahu
mataku-atanganu-akawa-miki-tora

This was originally banned by Radio One when it was released in 1977, but it made a resurgence in 1979 thanks to British TV and radio comedian Kenny Everett, who played it extensively on his radio shows and used the chant as bumpers between sketches on his TV show. I really got to fall in love with it when my sister bought the soundtrack album for the Joan Collins sleazefest movie, The Bitch, and I got to play it whenever I wanted. Never did get that chant down, though.

BTW, I heartily recommend The Bitch. It's the sequel to The Stud. Both movies are ridiculously bad, and were even back in the day, but they're great popcorn trash. Imagine these were a trilogy and the final chapter was Showgirls. Yes. Entertainingly bad.

Things you could get away with in the 70s - part one

1. Moustaches.

2. Scantily-clad black and white dancers pretending to be Native American "squaws".

3. Danish disco versions of the Shadows classic, Apache.

The Playlist

Not everyone has noticed this yet, so I thought I'd point it out for you. Over to your right is the Made In The 70s Playlist, updated usually at least once a month, it's about 10 to 20 songs that I personally recommend listening to. Even better, each one has a youtube link so you can watch these fine artists do their stuff. Some times it's funny, some times it's just plain awesome. There's twenty there right now, so check them out.

Cooler in the 70s: Rednecks with Radios - Part One

In a world of blogs, internet radio, podcasts, instant messaging, online gaming and message boards, it's hard to remember a time when the ramblings of the average joe could only be projected roughly 20 miles, on a good day, from a hill top, from behind the hand held microphone of a Citizen's Band radio. Yet, for many people, whether alone in their bedrooms, or on the road in their long-haul trucks and cars, the CB was the only way to reach out to others nearby behind the cover of an anonymous handle.

Yes, CB radio was the first attempt at electronic social networking.

One of the appeals of CB radio was the inherent anti-establishment nature of the device. You could say what you wanted, without being subject to FCC rules or regulations. It was commercial-free. It allowed for instant feedback, both good and bad. Most of all, it was used a tool primarily by people who didn't want the law to know what they were talking about. CB radio had its own rules, its own language, its own way of starting and ending conversations, it could be used as a way of warning other drivers of a speed trap up ahead, or as a way for people to catch up with nearby friends. Most of the time, though, yeah, it was used to warn people of speed traps.

In the UK, CB radio wasn't made legal until 1981. There had been a campaign running for about 6 years prior to that, and strangely, as soon as we got what we wanted, the fad quickly died. Like Usenet, it devolved into a mess of pointless roger-beeping and people playing their own records over other people's attempts to hold a conversation. CB radio wasn't meant to be your own pirate radio station, it was meant for you to tell us where the pigs are.

So, despite my own memories of CB being from the 80's in London, the dream belonged to the golden age of CB radio, about 1976 to 1979.

There were two small movies in 1975 called Moonrunners and White Line Fever, both of which outlined the outlaw aspect of trucking and smuggling which fed into the Rednecks with Radios genre. The core principle was that, like many other genres in a post-Watergate 70s, the government, and by extension, the cops, were corrupt and couldn't be trusted. They were agents of mild totalitarianism, and, like rebellious Robin Hoods, the outlaw truckers and moonshine runners were the good guys, just doing what they have to do to make ends meet in a world where the man is trying to keep them down.

In the same year, C. W. McCall released the awesome novelty single, Convoy, the story of three truckers driving from Los Angeles to Tulsa, who start a convoy, quickly picking up a long line of trucks, buses, cars and vans, until the authorities try to take them down with a roadblock. They bust through the roadblock, and now they're all outlaws, careening across the US with no real destination until their convoy has over a thousand vehicles following behind lead trucker Rubber Duck. By the time Rubber Duck enters New Jersey, Pig Pen, a hog carrying truck that began the convoy as the third truck, has been forced back by people complaining about the smell so far that he's still in Omaha. The song was a huge hit both in the US and the UK, and brought the language and romanticism of the new knights of the road and their CB radios to a whole new level of popularity.

Cashing in on the success of the single came the movie Convoy in 1978. Smokey and the Bandit, Citizens Band and the Chuck Norris movie Breaker! Breaker! had beat them to the punch in 1977, but Convoy had all the main ingredients: trucks, fascist cops, corrupt politicians, hot chicks, and plenty of CB radio action.

It's said that during the making of this movie, director Sam Peckinpah was so out of it on coke and booze that James Coburn, who had been brought in as second unit director, actually directed much of the principal photography while Sam was 'sick' in his trailer.

For all the setbacks that besieged it, Convoy is a much better film than you would expect it to be. Kristofferson is a charming and charismatic image of masculinity as lead trucker Rubber Duck, and Ali McGraw, who previously worked with Peckinpah in The Getaway, looks as stunning and sexy as always, even with a perm. The film's ending is a little contrived and corny, but the ride from the original fight with Ernest Borgnine's Sheriff Wallace, to the Thelma and Louise style leap of faith is well worth jumping aboard for.