The Nocturnal Pleasures of Dragnet

Dum-da-dum-dum. You know the theme. Even if you've never caught a second of the 1950s cop show featuring Jack Webb as the unflappable, serious as a heart attack Los Angeles detective Joe Friday, you likely can name that tune in a few notes. It announces something, official. No nonsense, just like Friday himself. "This is the city", Friday narrates almost mournfully over the opening credits of Dragnet, a briskfully successful television program which ran for almost all of the 50s, then returned in the late 60s, then was given a silly big screen remake with Dan Aykroyd and Tom Hanks in 1987, and a small-screen reimagining in 2003 (the latter 3 all far less successful than the original). There was also a theatrical film thrown together in 1954, which ramped up the show's intensity a few notches. Dragnet certified Webb's character as an American icon. The actor was so convincing as a lawman that local citizens would call the L.A. precinct and ask for him. There were so many such calls that finally the real cops would answer, "Sorry, it's Joe's day off."

I was among the many fans of that show. Casual fan. That is, until about 5 years ago when I bought one of those "Old Time Radio" CDs off a carousel at Cracker Barrel. Dragnet on Radio, Volume I. Two episodes: "Big Escape" and "Big Trunk". As I would learn, all of the episodes from 1950 onward would have the word "big" in the title. I was entertained by the program, but then, I dunno, it became something more. Great radio drama is true Theater of the Mind. Vivid pictures painted in your mind's eye, almost as effective as reading. I had the fortune of hearing CBS Radio Mystery Theater when I was much younger, my first exposure to the possiblities of such a medium. I think it nutured my desire to write creatively. I later heard radio reruns of W.C. Fields, Burns & Allen, "The Whistler", "The Shadow". Now I was enjoying this classic of classics. Friday's aural adventures had taken flight, provided me with new musings each time I listened to these episodes.

The shows were well produced, primarily in the technical sense. Even in mono, one can discern the deft use of sound effects, even that of a yelping dog in the background of a neighborhood scene. Details of forensics sounded authentic, as did discussions of firearm calibers. Webb and the writers took great care in being as realistic as possible. Even if the drama was hokey, the stories, all true with "only the names changed to protect the innocent" were solid. Another ominous narrator would open and close the radio show, summarizing and epiloging the case. In the early ones, real life police departments around the U.S. were recognized for their dedication to civilians as well.

I listened to them mainly in the evenings. Appropriate. Friday describes L.A. as a mysterious, often unforgiving locale (even in the 50s), and night listening seemed to make it more menacing. This, of course, was despite the unavoidable camp and corniness that is so characteristic of the 1950s. Some of the musical cues are disturbingly dissonant, others unintentionally funny. The same could be said of the program itself.

That isn't to say that Dragnet didn't try to be funny. On the contrary, much of the social commentary seems almost satiric at times. We hear caricatures of housewives, floozies, gangsters, drunks, narcs, heroin dealers, yes, but some wry statements shine through. Mainly in the acidicly sharp dialogue. Exchanges between Friday, his partners, and mainly his suspects of the moment are probably my favorite element. Surprisingly sarcastic sometimes. Rat-a-tat. Like music. The actors all nailed it. The rate of delivery is perfect. Friday questions everyone with a laser precision that cuts through the nonsense, daring the other to fib. Joe always knows. One episode found Joe hunting down a former Army chum who had broken out of prison. Friday discovers the criminal's whereabouts after relentlessly questioning the wife. "I'll tell you if you promise to go alone," she finally cries. Friday does indeed promise. As he later approaches a shack where the perp has holed up, another cop warns, "Joe, that guy promised not to shoot it out if cornered, but he has a habit of breaking promises." "I keep mine," Friday retorts. The half hour plotlines were efficient and tight. Crime never paid in the long run.

I acquired more episodes. I was dismayed that more weren't available on CD. Plenty on cassette, strangely enough. Didn't buy those; I haven't listened to a cassette in over 10 years! I DID find some episodes online. I was now a huge buff, finding more to enjoy with this show than its TV counterpart. I absorbed each episode, began listening to them as I fell asleep. Comforting. Hard to explain why it was so soothing to hear. Was it the lawman's confidence? The voices of tough broads? The ads for Chesterfield cigarettes, hawked by Webb himself? A combination of all of the above?

Before I got married, I almost always fell asleep to a variety of things. Inspirational programs, lectures, the news, music. For a while, I loved conking out to Steely Dan demos. I have a collection of tracks Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had recorded in the late 60s before anyone knew who they were. Crude tracks, filled with potential and hunger. Poor sound quality, but some sort of perverse lullaby just the same. Eventually, I would either shut down to jazz or Joe Friday, both of which provided a sort of after hours vibe in which I could get lost. Lot of similarities between the two, the more one thinks on it as they drift off. Friday's authoritative yet resigned narration, much like an extended drum break or trumpet wail....