Harry Orwell is a world-weary private investigator who was forced to leave the Los Angeles Police Department after a bullet became lodged near his spine. Moving to San Diego, he lived on ... See full summary »
A friend of Harry's calls him, saying her husband hasn't been home all night. Her husband is Harry's former partner on the police force, now a P.I., and a known womanizer. When Harry discovers him in...
Richard Diamond is a suave private eye who, at first, walks the mean streets of New York, then later packs up and moves to Los Angeles, where he tools around in a convertible with a car ... See full summary »
Mary Tyler Moore
Harry Orwell is a world-weary private investigator who was forced to leave the Los Angeles Police Department after a bullet became lodged near his spine. Moving to San Diego, he lived on the beach, and, when not working on a current case, spent much of his time fixing up his boat, which was called The Answer. Harry O was unusual in that he didn't own a flashy car in which to conduct high-speed chases, preferring to ride the bus instead. Written by
Marty McKee <email@example.com>
There'll be others.
No, there won't be others.
Oh, that's right, you fixed it.
Yes, I did.
You fixed it by framing Lester.
By framing Lester, it was *his* car that ran over Lynn Northrup! The pictures were in *his* files! You really fixed him, didn't you?
That's a terrible thing to say, I didn't!
If you can't have him, nobody can have him?
He's *my* husband!
[...] See more »
Harry Orwell was a gumshoe that Dashiel Hammet would appreciate (though he talked a bit more like Philip Marlowe, and his Southern California felt more like Ross MacDonald's.
It's been decades since I saw an episode of Harry O. I remember it having 70's cop show production values (everybody drove Fords). I can't really recall any of the stories. But I remember dialog and mood and characters with many layers. This show's success had less to do with the mystery and more to do with people and fantastic story-telling. You *liked* Orwell and Manny Quinlan. You wish you could meet people like that. You like to think they're out there somewhere, holding up some kind of code of decency in a dirty world. And if you had to have an adversarial relationship with a guy like Trench (the great Anthony Zerbe), at least you knew he was honest and fair and smart.
Those passages of narration were poetry! With Janssen's world-weary delivery it was like a ballad by Sinatra. Sure wish I could see some of these again.
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