San Diego’s First TV Private Eye
Harry O premiered on ABC in the fall of 1975. It was the first, but not quite the last, private eye TV series filmed in San Diego. At the time, we were all very excited to have a big-time TV show being filmed here. I watched it with my Mom every week (I think she was a secret David Janssen fan).
The show was one of the more creatively (if not commercially) successful versions of private eye shows made for TV. Harry came with the usual baggage—a former cop with a bullet lodged near his spine who picks up the occasional private eye case to help pay the rent. In short, he was down on his luck, living on the beach, with an old sports car that was always in the shop.
But what made the series interesting was its variations on the usual TV crime tropes. There were no car chases (not at first, anyway). Harry didn’t carry a gun. He relied on city bus services to get him where he wanted to go (a notable accomplishment in San Diego). Harry’s interior voiceovers captured the bruised romanticism of SoCal noirists such as Raymond Chandler and Ross MacDonald and Janssen delivered them in his best world-weary manner. The first episode, Gertrude, won The 1975 Edgar Allan Poe Mystery Writers Award (“the Edgar”) for “best episode in a television series.”
Sadly, the series only lasted two years and even more sadly, it left San Diego behind after only thirteen episodes. For financial reasons, the show was moved to Los Angeles and put Harry in a trailer at Malibu Beach. Not unlike another show which had premiered the same week—The Rockford Files. Apparently there wasn’t enough room for two private eye shows on TV.
The first Rolly Waters mystery was called Black’s Beach Shuffle. Coincidence or subconscious inspiration?
Harry makes a call from Coronado Island, with Downtown San Diego, circa 1975, across the bay.
More reading about Harry O:
The Thrilling Detective – Harry “O” Orwell
Crime Reads – REMEMBERING HARRY O, THE SEVENTIES’ SECOND BEST, MOSTLY FORGOTTEN PRIVATE EYE SERIES
Ray Bradbury Returns
My wife and I moved recently, on Christmas Eve of all things. In geographical distance, the move was less than a mile. But it was still a lot of work and there’s always more stuff to pack than you realize and more challenges setting up a new home than you remember.
But we’re pretty well settled in now. We’ve thrown away some old things, purchased a few new ones, and have finally managed to find a place for everything else. One thing I’m excited about is my new work studio, where I’ve been able to combine all of my creative doings in one place.
You may have noticed some of the art on the walls, which I’ve finally been able to hang in one place. I’ll talk about the photos on the right in a future post, but I wanted to give you a better look at the broadside now hanging over my desk. It’s a poem by Ray Bradbury, entitled THE POET CONSIDERS HIS RESOURCES. I purchased this particular piece just before I graduated from UCLA back in 1982.
My last year in college, I worked at Houle Rare Books & Autographs, a bookshop on the west side of Los Angeles (somewhere near Westwood Blvd and West Pico for you Angelenos). True to its name, the owner specialized in first editions, signed editions, monographs and other collectible volumes of literature. The Ray Bradbury piece was one of the items he had in the shop. I was a Bradbury fan, so when I knew I’d be graduating and moving back to San Diego I offered to buy it. The owner gave me a special deal on the piece. If memory serves, the store’s price was $125 and I got it for $75, but that was a long time ago.
Once I’d settled back in my hometown, I gave the piece to my Mom, as a thank you for helping me get through college (I paid my living expenses; she helped with tuition). I was a big Bradbury fan and he’d actually visited my Mom’s house once for some kind of book club event (sadly I wasn’t there, but I’ve seen the photos).
When Mom passed a few years ago, I took possession of the piece again. And now I’ve found a perfect place for it. I can review it every day when I sit down to write in my new studio. As you’ll see if you read below, it’s a perfect bit of inspiration for us scribblers. Did I mention I got my B.A. in Creative Writing/Poetry?
Corey is (was) a Punk Rocker
A friend recently sent me a link to this auction item at Wright Auctions. It’s a flyer from 1979, designed for the hardcore LA punk band Black Flag. And what band is listed in the third spot for Thurs Oct. 25?
It’s The P-15s. My band at the time. Well gosh, that brings back a lot of memories. Unfortunately none of them involve this particular gig as I don’t remember playing on the same bill as Black Flag and Red Cross (who changed the spelling to Red Kross in 1984). Of course neither of them were influential rock acts at the time. We were all just having a good time—kids rocking out, writing and performing our songs at dozens of Los Angeles clubs.
There was no social media in 1979. One way bands could promote themselves was to make a bunch of cheap flyers announcing their gigs and distributing them wherever they could—record stores, coffee shops and the like. I’ll never forget on first arriving in LA, seeing flyers for The Knack stapled on every telephone pole along West Olympic Boulevard (or maybe it was West Pico). Shortly afterwards, “My Sharona” went to #1 on the pop charts. Every band in town started putting up flyers.
And this Black Flag flyer? It just sold at auction for $1,134. Wait. What? Do I have any old fliers in storage? Are they worth a thousand bucks?
Probably not. Most band’s flyers just listed the name of the band, with a crappy two-tone photo and some performance dates. Black Flag had Raymond Pettibon, guitarist Greg Ginn’s younger brother. He did the art for their flyers, as well as most of the art for SST Records. And now, forty-five years later, his flyers are collectible, punk rock artifacts. As Pettibon himself noted in a 1984 Los Angeles Times article:
“It’ll happen like it did in the ‘60s with the psychedelic posters. Once these kids start growing up and making money, it’ll be a way of recapturing their past. But at that point the art becomes dead. It’s just artifacts.”
I’m not paying a thousand bucks for one of these things but it’s cool to be a small part of a valued artifact. Historical proof of my punk rock credentials (although The P-15s were more power pop) and a reminder of a great adventure.
And what of Pippin’s, the dank little club where we played (they were all dank little clubs). Today it’s a yuppie wine bar called Bodega. The revolution moves on. As do we.
The President’s Visit
I’m reading a manuscript which came my way rather mysteriously a few years ago. It’s a fascinating first-person account of events which took place in San Diego in April of 1891. I can’t discuss the details yet but I am in discussion with interested parties about publishing an annotated edition of the story.
There are some historical events mentioned in the book that I can tell you about, such as the first visit to San Diego by a sitting President of the United States, which occurred on April 23, 1891. That president was Benjamin Harrison.
Harrison was not the most notable of presidents, serving only one term from 1899 to 1893. But for San Diegans of the time, it was a memorable visit. As the San Diego Union reported:
Since the news first came that the nation’s chief executive would confer upon this people the unusual honor of a visit, the leading men and women of San Diego have wasted no time in getting ready to receive their expected guest in fitting style. As a result the city today is decked out in a holiday attire of the national colors; the wall of her principal buildings are hidden behind masses of gay-hued bunting, and every flag is flying triumphantly from the very top of its staff.
The president’s visit was part of a cross-country railroad tour sponsored by railroad magnate Leland Stanford.
The Presidential train will arrive at the depot at 6:30 in the morning. President Harrison will not alight from his special train on his arrival in the city this morning but will be carried on through National City, around the peninsula and directly to the Coronado hotel, where he will have breakfast.*
After breakfasting at the Hotel Del Coronado with guests that included California Governor Henry H. Markham and Baja California Governor Luis E. Torres, Harrison returned by boat across the bay and spoke to a large crowd gathered at Horton Plaza. Then it was back on the train to continue his tour.
The president’s short time in San Diego left a lasting impression. He is reported to have told future President William Taft, “One who has ever breathed this atmosphere would want to live here always.” San Diegans today can still relate.
*Irene Phillips, “Diaries of Frank A. Kimball, California Pioneer, Excerpts and Comments.”
World of Fire
Environmental destruction, climate change, war, epidemics, homelessness, drug addiction. Sometimes the disasters pile up in our brains like a toxic dump. And when a personal crisis intersects with societal catastrophe, it can feel like there’s no way out. Like you’re living in a world of fire.
I don’t remember the specific events that inspired this song, but I was imagining a TV war correspondent whose personal life has gone to hell while he’s covering a revolution in some Latin American country (it was written during the days of Contras and Noriega). Working with the band, we gave it a moody, cinematic arrangement—impassioned vocals, screaming slide guitar and stormy sound effects. Available on Apple Music and Spotify.
In the green glow, I have seen
Dying children, broken dreams
Burning bottles, needle of pain
And I wonder why I remain
In this world of fire
World of fire
Blood and chicken, beans and rice
Open windows late at night
I remember your white knees
As you fell away from me
In this world of fire
World of fire
Credits:
Written by Corey L Fayman and recorded at Studio 3, San Diego, CA
Bruce Fayman – lead vocals
Judy Jackson – lead vocals
Ken Rash – guitar and slide guitar
Corey Fayman – keyboards
Mike Borman – Drums
Cliff Morse – Bass