Last
year A&E/NBC Universal released to DVD the complete two-year run of MICKEY
SPILLANE’S MIKE HAMMER TV series, broadcast from 1956-1959. The series was a product of tame 1950s
television and could not duplicate the hardboiled antics that occurred in the
Spillane hard-boiled literature.
Many people smile when they learn that Darren McGavin, the “Old Man”
from the classic CHRISTMAS STORY and the beloved, eccentric Carl Kolchak from THE
NIGHT STALKER TV movies and series, was cast, in his prime, as one of
literature’s greatest private detectives.
However, defying all odds, the series is a gritty delight and McGavin is
excellent in his portrayal of the independent, vigilante P.I. who works closely
with the police, namely his worthy adversary and friend Pat Chambers (Bart
Burns). Episodes only ran 25
minutes, making it difficult to tell dirty little crime stories with substance
in so short a time. But Revue/Universal did a fantastic job back in the day. Unfortunately, the series never became
a TV hit on the level of THE NAKED CITY, THE UNTOUCHABLES or M SQUAD, but it
deserved to join those icons of television crime classics.
The
series lasted 78 episodes, improving as it went along. The crowning final four episodes of
season one introduced the superior second season, where the visuals became
bloodier and the scripts crisper and more complex. Looking at the credits during the relatively short run, we
find directors such as Boris Sagal, William Witney, John English, Earl Bellamy
and Ray Nazarro working regularly (Sagal directed 25 episodes). Even though Mickey Spillane wrote none
of the scripts, tight little scenarios were created by the likes of Frank Kane,
Steven Thornley, B.X. Sanborn and Evan Hunter, among others. Both rising and established stars appearing
on the series included Lorne Greene, Andrea King, Angie Dickinson, Ruta Lee,
John Hoyt, Paul Dubov, Walter Reed, Robert Fuller, Yvette Vickers, Virginia Gregg,
DeForest Kelley, Pat O’Malley and Mike Connors. And the jazzy music score created by multiple composers
(Maury Leaf scored 33 episodes and Harold V. Johnson 14) supports the smoky
noir tone.
So how
do we truncate the complex plots crafted by Spillane and boil teleplays down to
less than half an hour per week?
How do we dumb down the literature yet still retain most of the
characters’ integrity?
Surprisingly, the series did a marvelous job of retooling the series for
a 1950s family audience, but that family had better get quickly acquainted with
violent fist fights, bloody bullet wounds and heated battles to the death with
hand guns. For its time, MIKE
HAMMER was quite envelop-pushing.
In many episodes a gunman fires two or three shoots at Hammer, who
dodges the bullets or sometimes gets winged. But instead of looking the other way, Hammer, whether he
truly needs to or not, returns the gunfire, usually killing the villain without
a second thought. While McGavin’s
Mike Hammer is playful, comical and wears a smile or pleasant face, he is not hesitant
about cleaning up his city by sending criminals to the morgue.
The
first reason for the show’s success was Darren McGavin’s starring performance. Yes, the most beautiful women were too
instantly attracted to the rugged but not legitimately handsome star that wore a
rumbled suit, loose tie and battered hat. However, McGavin’s performance was
instilled with integrity and a sense of fair play and always doing the right
thing. In his clichéd but almost
expected crusty voice-over narration, Hammer reveals his love for New York City
and the old neighborhoods. Being a
product of the city, he goes on a limb multiple times for old childhood friends
who are now in trouble with the law or else need help for friends or relatives
missing or in “The Tombs,” the New York prison system. The actual New York location
photography is quite impressive and brings a gritty, urban setting to frame the
dark crime stories. Even though
most of the action occurs on cheap television sets, the location shots add
budget and scope to the proceedings.
And many episodes begin with McGavin’s narration that creates lovely
noir love letters to the city he embodies. And to me this is where the TV series comes closest to the
literature, because most of the Mike Hammer novels are themselves touching homages
to The Big Apple.
But even
though Darren McGavin might be relatively too slight and jocular to represent
the true Mike Hammer created in the literature, McGavin does a mighty fine job
with the material handed him. For
instance, McGavin constantly cocks a half-smile—some might say a sneer—during
every episode. And this blending, this
ying and yang, of showing disdain for humanity and compassion at the same time
sits at the heart of the performance.
Hammer constantly returns to his boyhood neighborhood and reunites with
relatives, neighbors and friends he left behind years ago. In reconnecting, Hammer sometimes finds
himself in the company of people with a similar value system, but often he
discovers that these faces from his past have become tainted, seduced by
circumstance, want or greed, and that his life is sometimes put in jeopardy
because of his trust and need to help the needy. And while Hammer always seems like the dutiful P.I. working
on retainer for the good of his client, he often figures out his client’s dirty
little secrets before all the facts are in place. It is Hammer’s special ability to read people and use his
intuitive abilities to solve the case often before all the evidence has been collected
(which constantly angers his police pal Pat Chambers). He allows himself to be physically
attracted to beautiful clients and even lose himself in one or two passionate
kisses, but at the same time his hand is only inches away from his shoulder
holster and he is not shy about roughing up any black window who tries to
seduce him to get the upper hand.
He is a character who appears to truly enjoy his work and he is always
bouncing from one part of the city to another, speaking to one suspect after
another, never tiring, never complaining (complaining is what he does when he
has no case and is forced to pay his bills or clean up his office), never
losing his focus or sense of humor.
For all the hard working dads of the late 1950s, Hammer is the perfect
escapist hero for that generation.
In
contrast, his nasty other side can be found in his relationship with recurring
character Geta, played by Vito Scotti.
Geta runs a little soda shop, but the stereotypical Italian is the local
source to purchase illegal guns. He is an informant both to the criminal world
and the police. He is the type of weasel that always plays one side against the
other. When Hammer enters Geta’s
shop for “a name,” Geta always nervously clams up and sputters that he knows
nothing. But it is Hammer’s not so
playful interrogation blended with veiled threats, always delivered with an
all-knowing smile on his face, that establishes this good cop/bad cop
relationship. Hammer usually slaps
Geta around the ears, pokes him in the chest or punches him in the stomach to
loosen up the sneak’s lips. The
audience can tell in seconds that Geta cannot be trusted and that he would say
anything to save his skin, and in a few episodes Hammer leaves the poor guy’s
soda shop in shambles, with glasses broken, tables overturned and chairs
smashed to bits. But we all know
that Hammer will be back, that sooner or later Geta will know something that he
is not willingly able to share, but that Hammer’s persuasive methods will
prevail.
One of
the better episodes, Pen Pals (from
season two), really explores the film noir morality inherent in these 25-minute
morality plays. In this episode, Holly (Angela Austin), wife to ex-con Marty
(Mike Connors), hires Mike Hammer because her husband is in some type of
trouble. Marty has been straight since his release from jail, running a small
neighborhood antiques shop, but two ex-cons from Marty’s past threaten to
expose his criminal past unless he works with them to rob nearby neighborhood
shops. The thugs Simmons (Ed Kemmer,
star of television’s Space Patrol)
and Luger (Dort Clark) plan to rob Marty’s store first, to make him appear to
be the innocent victim after which more and more shops will be robbed. The conflicted and basically honest
Marty is afraid to tell the truth to Hammer and even his wife. Hammer explains
to the dense Marty that after the criminals rob his shop, Marty and his wife
will know too much about the criminal operation to be allowed to live. But Marty is too scared to think
straight. In the hard-hitting
drama, Hammer tries to use his own muscle to force the hoods to leave Marty
alone, but instead they kidnap Marty’s wife and get even more of a grip on the
nervous shopkeeper. In the film’s
climax Marty finally comes around and allows Hammer and police protection to be
on the scene the night of the robbery, and the show ends in a hail of gunfire
as the good guys prevail. The
curious thing is that Hammer acts just as tough and roughs up the good guy as
much as he does the two criminals.
Hammer, very street wise, knows how to play the cards dealt him, but the
problem is the fear that crime instills in the hearts and minds of the innocent,
making even seasoned ex-cons play right into the criminals’ hands. So we have the morally confused Marty
debate what scares him the most—the fear that he might go back to prison, concern
for the life of his kidnapped wife or the financial success of his small
business. It is never an easy
decision for the stressed out victim every week, but for Mike Hammer it’s
always an easy decision because he sees right through to the heart of the
situation. Hammer, unlike many of
his clients, has the courage to do the right thing without hesitation, whether
that involves walking directly into the criminal’s lair, slapping a bad guy
around, fighting with his fists for his life or charging into a deadly room
with his gun blazing. And often
when an underprivileged client waves money his way, Hammer tells the client to
hold on to the money. Even with
wealthy clients he sometimes tells them to pay him what they think he’s worth.
Perhaps
the best episode and one that demonstrates how complex the scenario can become
in a mere 25 minutes is season two’s 10th episode, According to Luke (referring to the
villain Luke Lund and to the Biblical scripture from the Gospel of Luke pertaining
to an eye for an eye). Former New
York mobster Luke Lund (Tom Neal, who starred in the film noir classic Detour, appears here in his final
performance) has relocated to Shale City, near San Francisco, as a supposed
legit land developer. It seems
five years earlier Lund was responsible for the murder of an innocent girl and
the only witness, Al Kruger (Tom Gleason), was paid off handsomely by Lund to
keep his mouth shut. Kruger still
continues to be paid off for his continued silence. Mike Hammer represented the murdered girl and wants justice.
Lund’s hired gun from the East Coast, Lloyd Barnum (Lewis Charles), is told by
Lund to phone Hammer and reveal where he can find Kruger. The potentially violent reunion occurs
at Kruger’s hotel, but before Hammer beats a confession from Kruger, a corrupt
cop Dacon (Joseph Mell) intervenes.
Lund finally phones Hammer and tells him to come to his gated mansion
that night, but when Hammer arrives the hidden Barnum knocks Hammer unconscious
near the front door. Hammer awakens almost an hour later outside of town, left
by the side of a rural road. Dacon soon brings Hammer to the station for
questioning, revealing that Kruger was beaten and shot dead … with Hammer’s
pistol. Hammer smells the frame,
overpowers the soft cop, and finds Barnum in his hotel room. There we observe the beast within nice
guy Hammer as he takes his open hand and almost slaps the gangster to
death. Finally, with blood flowing
freeing from both his nose and ear, Barnum confesses and implicates Dacon as
being in on the murder and frame.
As Hammer is ready to leave, Barnum dives for a gun hidden in the sofa,
and Hammer shoots him to death, having killed the only man who can clear
him. Using Lund’s sexy and honest
secretary, Hammer lures Lund to Barnum’s hotel room and agrees to back off implicating
Lund as long as Hammer’s pistol is no longer associated with Kruger’s
death. The crafty mobster agrees,
but as Hammer is about to exit the small hotel, he stops dead in his tracks and
backtracks to kick in the door to Barnum’s room, catching Lund signaling
someone outside. Hammer tells the
thug that he knows Dacon is outside ready to gun him down, but he forces Lund
to change coats and hats with him, that Lund can “get it” from him right here
or Lund can take his chances by walking outside. Outside Lund screams, “Dacon, it’s me, Lund, it’s Lund” as Dacon
opens fire and kills him. Hammer
comes running outside as Dacon flees, Hammer firing and wounding the cop. Police sirens are approaching and
Hammer’s voice-over ends the superb episode with the suggestion that the police
will get the picture when they arrive, but not
the frame, referring to his own quick escape. Director Earl Bellany, working from one of many scripts
written by Steven Thornley, brings out the trapped beast in Mike Hammer who
constantly reminds himself of the fool he’s been played for as he desperately
tries to clear his name before it’s too late. The tension generated and all the twists and turns make the
25 minutes just fly by.
Television
and crime series have evolved since the late 1950s, but Darren McGavin really
breathes life into the character of Mike Hammer, transforming Hammer into a
lovable rogue and babe magnate with that sly wink in his eye. McGavin’s Hammer might not have been
Spillane’s, but the television series kept the action flowing, the guns blazing
and the fists flying. It is a
mostly forgotten series that deserves to be rediscovered.
