Season One, Episode 12: “I Never Promised You a Rose, Marvin”
written by Anthony Yerkovich
directed by Robert C. Thompson
original airdate: March 19, 1981
“Previously on Hill Street Blues…”
Roll Call: Item nine has Phil once again lecturing about Sniper Alley (see last episode), and informing the squad that ignoring last episode’s warning led to Ludwig and Carmichael being sent packing. Another warning, natch. Item ten involves a retirement-age motorcyclist harassing Saint Teresa’s… oh, in the nude. Lastly, Phil eulogizes the departed Marv some more, complete with Marv’s urn and a poem Marv wrote before expiring. Phil announces that the urn will rest in state next to the squad room coffee machine for the rest of the day, and — I can honestly say I don’t recall whether or not it happens — but I’m sure that won’t end well. We’ll find out together! After the credits, of course.
Mick’s the first visitor to the urn; his melancholy is interrupted by Neal and J.D. discussing business of the drunken laundry kind. Neal’s concerned about Mick, but Mick shrugs him off. They depart, Andy and Bobby replacing them (in plainclothes), and then Howard shows up… and starts shaking the urn, which clinks and rattles. Hunter takes the opportunity to decry the shoddy quality of the cremation. Hunter’s discussion puts Andy right off his donut, which he deposits in the trash as he departs.
In Frank’s office, Phil’s talking to the boss about Belker’s ridiculous collar volume: 36 arrests in 24 hours, plus three more he let Bates process. Obviously, Mick’s off the rails. Frank wants to talk to him, but first he collars Hill and Renko, wondering why they’re not in uniform. Andy thought they were still working the murder case; Frank disabuses him of that notion and orders them back out on patrol. Phil lets Frank know Midtown is sending over the tape of Fay’s obscene phone caller, and Frank heads out to do breakfast with the big shots.
When he gets there, he’s accosted by Joyce, who’s tracked him down. She’s agitated, and wants him to get in the car. Turns out they’ve traced the gun Nemo Rodriguez allegedly used to someone who sold said gun to Rodriguez three days before the shooting — so now involuntary manslaughter has become murder one. Frank reminds Joyce that Councilman MacAuley might be telling the truth; Joyce doesn’t believe it, and doesn’t think Frank does either.
And then comes the relationship drama. They’re both testy over their temporary separation, but Joyce is even more testy because Fay is staying with Frank until they catch the phone creeper. She actually pushes enough buttons that Frank simply gets out of the car and walks off.
At breakfast, there’s frivolity regarding Frank’s tardiness (and poor attendance), and then we shift to Howard’s Sniper Alley mockup for his PANDA tactical demonstration. Howard receives applause for successfully piloting a radio-controlled miniature version of the PANDA into the mockup. (No, really.) Daniels informs Frank that the real PANDA has arrived, and Howard’s going to make a run at the real Sniper Alley that afternoon. Frank expresses his reservations, and is told to relax.
Howard demonstrates the model PANDA, including its built-in flamethrower, and then Daniels is discreetly informed of a robbery across the street. He tells the assembled staff, at first suggesting they just sit down and let the uniforms handle it… until Swanson quietly points out to him that the press will be there. Daniels responds by suggesting everyone sneak away through the rear exit. What a guy. Frank douses the slightly smoldering little brown cardboard human Howard set on fire with a glass of water.
Back at the station, LaRue has his investors (Bates, Neal, Henry, Phil, Leo, and Ray) gathered in the roll call room to go over his saloondramat proposal. Naturally, it goes sour, as J.D. surprises everyone with the revelation that he’s going to hire “real foxes” to do people’s laundry for them.
Shortly afterward, a “real fox” enters the station house holding a flower, and approaches Leo at the desk. He directs her to the urn in the back. Hey, wait, what? The blonde, wearing a dress she may as well have painted on and her hips swaying like a California high-rise during a quake, walks through the squad while everyone stares and loses their train of thought. Specifically Henry and Phil, who are trying to discuss Phil’s intentions to become a daddy. Henry thinks Phil’s talking about Grace. Phil’s talking about his just-eighteen Cindy. Oh, dear god.
Neal and J.D. wander back into scene, Neal expressing regret over never inviting Marv to poker and J.D. averring that Marv was boring. And then they approach the coffee nook, which trips LaRue’s lower-brain override switch. He immediately goes to hit on the blonde, whose nickname for Marv was “Biscuit.” After Seabiscuit. The horse. 30 years before they made a movie about him! And the blonde buries her face in J.D.’s shoulder, as we all roll our eyes skyward.
The PANDA — the real one — is rolling down Dekker Avenue, and the reaction of the citizens seen through the windows is telling. Howard makes a crack about it being a good thing the Japanese didn’t have one of these in 1945, and has to stop Webster from translating for the Japanese corporate liasons on board (Messrs. Okino and Mifune). They decide to break for lunch, and Howard insists on parking the PANDA himself rather than letting the valet do it, which to be fair is the smarter play. (Not taking the PANDA to lunch would have been even smarter, but this is Howard, after all. To the surprise of nobody watching, Howard crushes a patron’s parked Chevy. Then backs onto another patron’s parked Gremlin. Where he leaves the PANDA as he exits, and then deputes Webster to exchange insurance information with the distraught owner when she happens to arrive on the scene.
At the station, Frank’s staring at 15 more requests for transfer. And then Phil plays the tape for Frank. “Peanut butter. All up and down your body. You know you love it.”
Back to the sushi bar, Howard and the liaisons have had a tasty lunch. Also, someone has had a tasty case of grand theft auto: the PANDA is gone. Mister Okino “humbly inquires” as to whether dumbass Howard left the keys in the ignition. Howard is indignant. Howard also doesn’t have the keys. Oopsie.
Schneider stalks into Frank’s office to browbeat him over not letting the MacAuley thing drop. Frank turns the tables, playing on Schneider’s stellar record to try and guilt him into coming around. It doesn’t work, entirely; Frank’s going to have to do the dirty work himself. But the pair also clearly understand one another, and Emil’s not going to fight.
During their chat, Phil interrupted to let Frank know Midtown had collared Fay’s stalker. He takes the call after Emil leaves, and Fay and Harvey arrive. Frank gets off the phone, and immediately asks the pair why they suddenly don’t want to press charges. Turns out the perp is one of Harvey’s patients, and he’s arguing that pressing charges would somehow violate doctor-patient confidentiality. (Protip: it doesn’t.) Frank is just beside himself. He gets a call from Swanson summoning him downtown, but pauses to have a moment alone with Fay. Frank talks her into pressing charges, noting that if she loses Harvey over it, he’s not worth having anyway. On his way out, Frank runs into Mick, who’s apprehended the geriatric motorcycle flasher.
Next, we see J.D. sitting in a pile of rubble. Someone’s torn down his saloondramat building. Meanwhile, downtown, Swanson’s trying to talk sense into Frank, which is not working at all. And because Frank won’t back down, Swanson’s going to have to bring MacAuley in himself; letting Frank do it cowboy-style would look even worse for the department.
Andy and Bobby, bickering as always, and about the usual. They have a run-in with a horn blower, who oh-so coincidentally happens to be the subject of an APB which comes over the radio just as they’re about to go roust the driver. Turns out the driver is a man whose wife is in the backseat… having a baby. Bobby performs the delivery while Andy tries to both not panic and keep the husband from panicking.
At the jail, Joyce informs Frank that Nemo fired her (while complaining about how male suspects always think a male defense attorney would have done a better job), and Frank informs Joyce that MacAuley’s turning himself in now that he no longer has the department backing his story. She asks what it cost him. As Schneider arrives, Frank doesn’t answer.
Frank meets with Schneider. The truth comes out: MacAuley was assaulting the victim, and Rodriguez tried to shoot him and missed. Frank’s more concerned with the question that’s eating at him: why Schneider? Why did they use him to cover this up, and why did he go along with it? Because the brass turned a blind eye to Emil’s heart problem and let him stay on the job, and he owed them. Frank’s not unsympathetic — but he’s also not impressed. Meanwhile, Joyce is dealing with Nemo’s obnoxious ingratitude.
Back at the station, Howard is developing a war plan to recover his penis PANDA. Frank arrives and wants to know what the hell is going on. Howard is snide, telling Frank if he’d been there, he’d know. And Frank micdrops Howard by telling him that if he’d been listening to the police band, he’d know where his PANDA is: they found it in the river. Stripped. And gutted.
As Frank walks into his office, he sees a giant card. Word’s gotten to the precinct that he’s not leaving now. There are about a hundred signatures on the card, if not more. And the squad applauds him. Frank asks where Belker is, since Mick wanted to talk to him. He’s downstairs, asleep. Frank apologized to Ray, knowing Ray really wanted Frank’s office. Ray’s not mad, though.
Henry gets a moment with Marv’s widow which Lucy interrupts, Neal and J.D. arrive and tell Leo to call an emergency meeting of the investors (while J.D. tears up the contracts), and Frank leaves the precinct. Outside, at the newsstand, he picks up the evening paper, with MacAuley on the cover with a sex scandal headline. Joyce picks Frank up, Frank tells a joke about an elephant and an ant, and we fade to black as they drive off.
Look, Pizza Man: “But then, only one of us is going home to an empty apartment.” Oh, she mad.
Would You Prefer Internal Injuries?: “At least you got out while the gettin’ was good, Marv.” Mick, in deep conversation regarding the state of the Hill… with an urn. Later, he refers to the flashing old guy as “dog drool”, which I’m pretty sure is a new one.
I’m Unarmed: Henry doesn’t have any good lines, but his ending scene is subtle comedy at its best. Marv’s widow is leaning on him, and Lucy presents him with the tape recorder Phil used to play the obscene phone caller’s tape… well, we’ll get to that in a minute.
My Car!: “When you go down in uniform, there ain’t no such thing as natural causes.” Andy, superstitiously convinced he’s safer in plainclothes. Our boys have their best scene with the pregnant lady, though. It’s just that the dialogue is so frantic and entangled that you can’t understand much of it.
Judas Priest!: “They’re scale-model Hispanics, chief. I was hoping you’d notice.” I… I just… welp. A close second in the “Howard chews his toes” competition for the episode: telling Webster to check the Japanese woman’s immigration status when he exchanges insurance information. Seriously, Hunter’s willingness to resort to racism to try and get out from under his own incompetence is just… awful. And then, near the end, while he’s plotting to recover the PANDA, he takes a pen away from one of the Japanese liaisons… so he won’t commit seppuku. I can’t facepalm hard enough here.
Mano a Mano: “This yours, Henry?” Lucy’s interruption with the tape recorder is 10 seconds of subtle comedy gold, largely because Henry doesn’t know what’s on the tape… while obviously Lucy does, and thinks Henry’s a pervert now.
I’m Good For It: “Marv and me were like this,” said the guy who literally 30 seconds before was calling Marv boring. Oh, J.D., you so sleazy.
What’s Up, Lover?: “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that bo-o-o-o-o-o-oring dude had somethin’ goin’ for him.” Neal pipping J.D. when they spot Marv’s widow.
Not Now, Fay: Fay’s surprisingly reasonable this episode, save for needing to be Franked into pressing charges because she’s afraid of losing Harvey. We won’t blast her for this, because as she herself notes she’s 37 with a low-paying job and an 8-year-old kid, and thus not a prime catch. In 2016, this isn’t really a big thing. In 1981, it was.
Central Booking: This is the final appearance of four guests: Dolph Sweet as Schneider and Don Cervantes as Nemo Rodriguez, as well as the uncredited duo of Dennis Holohan as MacAuley and George McDaniel as Ludwig. Jordan Charney also makes his final appearance as Ed Chapel, although he’ll be back in the final season of the series in a different role.
Returning, and not done yet, is George Dickerson as Swanson; also, of course, Jon Cypher is on hand as Chief Daniels. Despite her character playing a meaningful role in the episode, Barbara Babcock does not actually appear on-screen as Grace Gardner.
Philip G. Schultz makes the first credited appearance of his career as Harvey, who finally shows up on screen after 11 episodes of being referred to; however, next episode will be the last credited appearance of his career, and (obviously) the last appearance of Harvey. Making their only Hill Street appearances: Robert Kino, a veteran bit player often called on when a random Asian was required, as Mr. Okino; Tom Babson, who’d later infrequently appear as a random customer at Cheers, as Webster; Jerry Loo as Mr. Mifune, and Angela Aames, uncredited, as Marv’s grieving widow.
One other guest was uncredited, but he’s a biggie. John Lone appeared as “Neighbor”, who is actually the valet at the sushi bar. He would soon go on to earn a pair of Golden Globe nominations (Best Supporting Actor for Year of the Dragon and Best Actor for The Last Emperor). He also appeared in a major role in the film version of M. Butterfly as Song Liling.
Rap Sheet: Robert C. Thompson, best known as co-producer of the acclaimed series The Paper Chase (for which he earned an Emmy nomination), takes his only turn in the Hill Street director’s chair.
Verdict: Let’s get this out of the way first: one cannot, cannot, escape the visual significance of where Howard is holding the radio control for the miniature PANDA once one sees it. It’s just not possible. Look for it when you watch the episode yourself.
Regarding the obscene phone call tape: I don’t mean to minimize anything, but I think maybe the writing staff did. Because the peanut butter thing? Most women I know, if they got a pervert calling them saying that, would start laughing their asses off. Maybe it’s just 2016 vs 1981. I don’t know.
The big showdown between Schneider and Furillo is a great, great scene. Furillo knows Emil is covering. Interestingly, Frank isn’t judging Schneider here; he knows how the system works, and he knows that Emil doesn’t like doing what he’s doing. He also knows that Schneider is between the gun and the wall here: either way, he’s screwed, unless Frank just drops it. And Emil knows Frank won’t, now. We see that by Schneider quietly accepting the fact that Frank is going to go public, even though it will wreck any chance Frank has of becoming commander.
Of course, we later get the full story, and it doesn’t make anyone (except Frank, of course) look good. Schneider’s not on the take; he just owes favors because of his bad ticker. He legitimately didn’t want Frank to get caught up in the whole mess, which leads to some unstated suppositions: it’s why Emil deliberately tried to brush the case under the rug from the jump, it’s why Emil fought with Frank for two episodes about pursuing it, and it’s why Emil couldn’t tell Frank what was going on — because he knew Frank wouldn’t buy in.
In other words, Schneider’s a good guy, but he’s no longer a good cop. Not dirty, but not clean, either. And one wonders if the part of him that really did used to be a good cop knows that Frank’s doomed to never get off the Hill as long as he stays squeaky clean.
We finally conclude the Marv subplot, with the introduction of his completely unknown widow; the joke is nobody knew Marv because he was going home to a Playboy playmate every night. We also solve J.D.’s saloondramat plot, with the expected disaster which just serves to further show that J.D. is Wile E. Coyote. And Howard’s PANDA plotline ends with Frank actually humiliating Howard in front of the entire squad, a comeuppance much deserved.
Finally, the stalker plotline is essentially settled here as well, with Frank’s internal battle between liberalism and crime-fighting taking center stage briefly; Frank has zero sympathy for Harvey’s patient, and treats him as the lowest form of scum on the planet. This is made hilarious by the cheesy dialogue on the tape recording, which… look, we understand. It’s prime time television. You can’t air what a real threat would be saying on that tape. But they took the absolutely incorrect tack with what they did have him say, because even in 1981 that had to be a play for a laugh. Bad move.
Final score: 7. If not for the poor handling of the stalker plotline, this episode would have approached a 10, but we just can’t let that pass.
Next Week: “Fecund Hand Rose” — Phil’s personal life gets real sketchy.
