An Old Favorite Based on an Even Older One by K.M.Rockwood

While waiting for a phone call last week, I found myself flipping through the late-night TV offerings.

I don’t watch much TV—I had to really search to find the remote control, which I hadn’t seen in probably two months.

Among the listings was an episode of The Fugitive. That series aired from 1963-1967. Its final show held the record for the largest audience to watch a single program for over a decade, and remains third in the “share” of viewers watching it (72%.)

The basic premise of the show is that Richard Kimble has been convicted of murdering his wife and sentenced to death. His only chance of reprieve is to find the famed “one-armed man” who he saw running from the murder scene.

I’d seen a few episodes when I was a child. But in our house, the TV privileges belonged to the male members of the family, and sports frequently preempted anything else.

As a hapless kid who was often blamed for many transgressions of my butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-their-mouths brothers, I was fascinated with the idea of someone who actually believed he might prove his innocence to the authorities.

I settled down to watch an episode, and have since viewed several more.

At first, I was amazed at how dated the program was. Not so much the lack of cell phones, computers and fax machines, or even security cameras, which I anticipated, but the outdated cultural assumptions.

For one thing, almost everybody smoked. In fact, in the title sequence of each show, Richard Kimble was escorted to the “death house” by Lt. Philip Gerard. He asked for a cigarette, which Lt. Gerard prepares to give him when the train derails, causing the wreck which freed him.

And the outdated stereotypical pictures of women!

A few women were depicted as competent, but they were in the distinct minority. Female characters were rebellious daughters spoiled by wealthy parents, wives who lived through their husbands’ successes, struggling single moms or brow-beaten waitresses, all of whom needed male assistance. Unattached women were looking for a male partner, and many of them inexplicably focused on Richard Kimble. Since he stayed in no one location long, there wasn’t any way they could have gotten to know him on more than a superficial level. I’m tempted to point out that, for all they knew, he was a convicted murderer. Which he was, even if he was wrongly convicted.

Most of the women wore uncomfortable-looking dresses or skirts and tottered around on high heels. Leave It to Beaver was just ending its run at that time, and the image of June Cleaver vacuuming in her tight skirt, high heels and pearls was firmly implanted in the eye of the TV-watching public.

Sometimes the men fared no better in the clothing department. Repeatedly, an iconic image showed Richard Kimble, in a desperate attempt to escape, sliding down a rocky ravine in a suit and dress shoes. Some people wore blue jeans and sturdy boots even then. In a few episodes, Kimble is shown outfitted sensibly and working manual jobs. Why he had to revert to his suit and dress shoes while fleeing is a mystery.

He tended to carry a small suitcase, although he sometimes had a carryall instead. No backpacks or duffle bags. I can’t count the number of times he has had to abandon his meager supply of clothing and toiletries as he leaves. He always managed to replace them, especially the all-important black hair dye, which comes in a breakable bottle.

He could have changed his appearance more effectively if he’d grown a beard or let his hair get longer, but those would have been anomalies that themselves would have attracted unwelcome attention.

I’m pleased to have rediscovered The Fugitive. The character of Richard Kimble owes much to Jean Valjean of Les Misérables, one of my favorite tales. Lieutenant Gerard owes a similar debt to Inspector Javert, Valjean’s antagonist.

I plan to keep track of my TV remote and watch more episodes.