Season One, Episode Three:”Politics as Usual”
written by Michael Kozoll & Steven Bochco
directed by Robert Butler
original airdate: Thursday, January 22, 1981
“Previously on Hill Street Blues…”
Roll Call: Phil’s again not at the lectern, and I’m starting to think my statement in episode one that this was abnormal is just misremembering. Item 11: all days off and vacation days are cancelled, due to manpower requirements caused by the Presidential visit. Item 12 regards graffiti in the precinct restrooms; while Phil would like it to stop, he’s far more concerned with the fact that the responsible parties can’t spell properly. Everyone is mirthful… except Hill and Renko. The final item is bad: the two perps Belker arrested last episode were not, in fact, the rapists. After roll call, Hill and Renko collar Phil to complain about the fact that they’re not divorced yet; Phil says he’ll do what he can, but subtly reminds them doing their job as police is more important than their personal beef. The pair exit, bickering, and the credits roll.
We return with yet another Furillo/Hunter bathroom scene, which makes one start to wonder what Howard’s deal is. It starts with Hunter cleaning his pipe and dumping the ashes in the trash. This time out, he’s offended that he’s being kept out of the loop as regards security planning for the Presidential visit… and he wants permission to basically round up the entire populace and lock them up for the President’s safety. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that those horrible miscreants he wants to corral are the precise reason for said visit. After Frank shoots him down and exits, Hunter realizes the trash can is on fire… and, like he did last week with the overflowing sink, slinks out like a dog that just broke the Ming. The scene’s extended a bit this time, though, with the fire being noticed and Hunter doubling down on his pretense of innocence.
To the street, where LaRue and Washington are undercover… and boy, do they look weird. They’re kvetching about LaRue’s car dealer brother-in-law and pondering the futility of their existence while they stake out a drug deal. They spot their man, follow him to the deal, and make the bust; they nab the dealer (Dicostanza) but the supplier gets away. LaRue chases him down to make the collar. Only the supplier is a cop: Detective Sergeant Macafee from Division, who accuses LaRue of blowing a case. And then he offers LaRue half the $50K payout from the deal, claiming nobody at Division is clean and that LaRue needs to wake up.
At which point LaRue makes a very, very large mistake. “I lost the sucker,” he tells his partner, who immediately notices something is wrong but assumes it’s just that the supplier “got away”. For his part, LaRue heads to the locker room to stash the cash. He’s clearly tormented, so at least we know this is the first time John has ever crossed the line.
Furillo and Goldblume are negotiating the President’s passage from Blood to Shamrock turf with the respective gang leaders. Henry works out a solution centering on the use of a basketball court, through which the gang boundary line just happens to run. The Shamrocks haven’t been allowing the Bloods to play full-court, you see. So they give a little. And then Belker brings in his favorite pickpocket and growls down the dog from last episode, which Henry still hasn’t found a home for yet. And, of course, mom calls. And she’s set him up on a date. He’s not happy. He takes the number but throws it away.
Back to LaRue and Washington, and J.D.’s melting down. Neal’s starting to take note that something is seriously amiss. Then we shift to Furillo, discussing how to keep the press safe during the visit with a guy named Unger. J.D. is outside Frank’s office window, looking distraught; Frank goes to talk to him, and LaRue makes mistake number two: instead of fessing up, he just tells Frank they caught the dealer. Somehow, despite initially being concerned that something was wrong, Furillo doesn’t question LaRue further.
Next, we visit Hill and Renko stopping to check out an accident scene. Renko is being an absolute ass, and we get some out-of-nowhere racial angst, which Hill blows up by reminding Renko they got shot by a white dude.
Back at the station, Belker retrieves the wadded-up number and calls Debbie Kaplan. (The pickpocket, being released, notices this and smiles.) And lo and behold, Mick has a date. Furillo, on the phone, is dealing with issues. He has eleven men out with the flu, and that couldn’t possibly be related to the “days off being cancelled” drop during roll call, could it? He also just got a letter. From Fay. Who’s now gotten lawyers involved in her “I need more money” crusade. He heads to lunch, and consults with Joyce, who offers him a logical sort of solution. But then she sort of embarrasses Frank by offering him a loan if he needs it. Frank demurs.
Phil’s taking an assault call at the desk, and he’s just downright evil: he tells dispatch to assign Hill and Renko. Their shared PTSD is in full force as they are, for the first time since returning to duty, forced to confront a potentially armed and violent suspect. Renko hesitates twice before kicking the door in. Bobby’s dealing much better, giving chase when the suspect escapes out the window, but he’s still hesitant too. He almost shoots a kid who opens a door behind him before cornering the perp in a basement… and that’s where he starts to suffer moments of hesitation. Renko arrives and turns on the lights — which is dangerous and foolish — and Bobby just loses it, to the point of drawing his baton and raising it to hit his partner.
In a brief interlude back at the station, J.D.’s decided on a plan, and calls Macafee for a meet. Then we shift back to Hill and Renko, being dressed down by Furillo in interrogation because Frank’s received multiple complains about their behavior. Furillo solves their problem with three words: “Fine, you’re divorced.” There’s some more angst, and some yelling from Frank, but afterward the pair break down. They don’t really want to split up, and they suddenly both realize that together. Divorce over.
LaRue’s meeting with Macafee, and he wants nothing to do with this deal. He gives the money back… and is immediately arrested by Internal Affairs, while Macafee is holier-than-thou about crooked cops. Uh-oh.
Frank and Joyce are in a bubble bath, so you know Frank’s pager’s about to go off, right? You’re probably assuming it’s about LaRue, but no. It’s about Fay, who’s been arrested for public indecency due to someone complaining about a little hot-tub action in the buff. As Frank is getting dressed, they have another Relationship Talk, which Frank ends by pointing out he’s not the only half of the couple who never seems to have free time.
Frank goes to rescue Fay, who is absolutely irate with Detective Walsh, threatening him with the Wrath of Frank Furillo. It’s not forthcoming. Frank cuts her off at the knees. But then he offers to get the charges uncharged, as long as she’s willing to sit down and have an adult conversation about the financial issues. She thinks it’s blackmail, but she eventually relents. And then there’s a disturbing conversation about erotic dreams, and you know what? Let’s just roll the end credits.
Look, Pizza Man: Joyce gently and compassionately makes Frank realize something: Fay’s actually sort of right. Frank’s gotten cost-of-living raises over the last two years, while Fay hasn’t… so it would probably be fair for Frank to increase his child support by a small amount. Of course, Joyce’s concern is over the state of Frank’s relationship with Fay; she points out there are two kinds of divorces — the ones that are over when they’re over, and the ones that aren’t. The latter, of course, are the ones where the ex never gets out of one’s hair.
Naturally, they’re interrupted in the middle of sexytimes by Frank’s pager, at which point Joyce does a horrible impersonation of Phil: “Francis, I really feel terrible disturbing you like this.” And that’s exactly what Phil says when Frank calls in.
You Want Internal Injuries?: “What, are you waitin’ for an engraved invitation? You know where it is. Move!” Belker, directing the pickpocket to his desk. Once there, he utters this section’s namesake line. “Quarstairs, Roland P.” is this episode’s falsified identity. And we know it’s “Quarstairs” because Mick asks if it’s spelled with a C or a K, and the pickpocket sneers that it’s a Q. The mom-on-the-phone gag? There’s a man peeping through her window with binoculars, but Mick isn’t going to arrest him because it’s her own husband.
There’s also some fun on the phone call when Mick calls Debbie: “I know you probably get dates up the wazoo”, a statement for which Mick immediately apologizes because, well, if you think about it…
I’m Unarmed: Henry’s only contribution to the episode is the negotiation scene early in the hour, where he confounds the gang leaders by dropping the phrase “mutualities of interest”. Yeah, if you thought horrible corporate-speak catchphrases were a creation of the 21st century, you’re so wrong.
My Car!: “Stop that cowboy stuff. I was born in New Jersey, never been west of Chicago in my life.” Renko drops this nugget just before the opening credits, which serves two purposes: it informs us that his accent and boots are nothing but an affectation, and it narrows the potential location of the fictional city in which the precinct is located.
Judas Priest!: “Half the people in this precinct aren’t even American citizens! They’re illegal foreign perverts and malcontents. They don’t even use our language.” Hi, Howard. I guess we know one person who’s absolutely voting for Donald Trump. Once again, Hunter talks to Frank as if Frank is a blind idiot and only Hunter can see what’s going on (which, if we wanted to psychoanalyze, would be an indication that Hunter is an only-slightly above average intellect who dealt with an environment in which he was told otherwise, one way or the other). This time, though, Frank isn’t indulgently amused by Hunter’s nonsense. He’s openly condescending, and it’s beautiful.
Mano a Mano: Lucy isn’t absent, but she may as well be. She only appears during roll call, and has no lines this episode. We’re three episodes into a series in which she is a main-billed star, and she’s done basically nothing. Thankfully, this will change.
I’m Good For It: Aside from his rant about his brother-in-law being unwilling to lend him any money, there’s not a lot of mirth in our resident train wreck’s existence this episode. We’ll talk more about J.D. in a moment.
What’s Up, Lover?: “Must be seriously off your feed, lover. Didn’t even notice the tree.” Washington, observing something is clearly wrong with his partner because there was a fine-looking woman LaRue didn’t even look at. Neal is still sort of in the background, seemingly serving as J.D.’s sidekick, but that all changes next episode.
Not Now, Fay: For once, Fay isn’t being ridiculous and harassing Frank at work. No, this time she’s being ridiculous and acting like being arrested is mortally offensive and that the cop who brought her in should have realized who she was and left it alone. Never mind the fact that the idea that she should be immune from arrest because she’s a cop’s wife — no, ex-wife — is so entitled and special you just want to throw things, but the fact that Walsh is actually apologetic makes the whole thing worse. But at least she caves when Frank sort-of blackmails her, so there’s that.
Central Booking: Reprising previous roles are David Caruso, Bobby Ellerbee, Nick Savage, Jonathan Dasteel, and Gary Van Ormand. Making their lone appearances were Bob Harders as Unger, David Moody as “Driver #1”, and Joe Rosario as a the assault suspect Bobby chases down. Lou Joffred plays Diconstanza; he’ll return in the next episode, and then be gone.
The two IAB shields who arrested LaRue are not credited.
Three actors all made the first of three appearances, each one playing a difference character each time: Art Evans, as “Driver #2”; Alma Beltran, as “Tenant”; and Julia Calderon, as “Abused Woman”. (The “drivers” are the guys in the car crash to which Hill and Renko respond; the “abused woman” is the woman Rosario’s character is assaulting, and the “tenant” is a woman in that same building who informs Hill and Renko of the situation.)
John Brandon appears as the unfairly maligned Detective Walsh; he’d reprise that role three more times, returning in “Fecund Hand Rose” late in the first season.
The big guest, however, is Dan Hedaya as Macafee. Hedaya had bounced around as an incidental character actor for awhile, and would continue to do so for a few years before being cast as Carla Tortelli’s husband Nick on Cheers and its spinoff The Tortellis. Since then, he’s built a pretty nice career as a “that guy”, turning up in all sorts of series and films, most notably playing Richard M. Nixon in Dick, with Kirsten Dunst.
Lastly, this is the first of six episodes in which Robert Hirschfeld does not appear as Officer Schnitz, which we mention since he’s technically a recurring character.
Rap Sheet: Roland Carstairs, the alias of the pickpocket this time out, was the man who engaged the services of Sherlock Holmes in Terror By Night, a Basil Rathbone vehicle which was not directly based on any of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works. Carstairs ends up murdered in that film.
Verdict: Before getting to the episode’s A-plot, a note on the gang negotiation. This was a brilliant scene, which demonstrated two things: one, Henry’s quick to offer solutions. Two, the gang leaders are not just stupid thugs, although they’re not the most book-smart individuals you’ll find. They are engaged in a Balkan conflict within the streets of an American city, and the bitter acrimony over something as outwardly petty as a basketball court foreshadows things we’d later see in Bosnia, Iraq, and Syria. Turf is turf, respect is respect, and ultimately these guys are just trying to keep their own alive.
The A-plot is an early seminal moment in the series. J.D. Larue will spend seven years as a guy with a lot of troubles who makes a lot of bad decisions and oftentimes blames everyone but himself. But here we see that he’s not a bad cop, and certainly not a dirty one. He makes a stupid mistake, and then makes another one by trying to deal with it himself rather than going to Frank for help (and even then, we see that he almost did choose that option). LaRue’s problem, and it will repeat itself, is that he’s just sleazy enough to be the sort of guy you’d think is corrupt, but just naive and good-hearted enough that he can’t recognize when he’s about to get played. Kiel Martin will have other good turns, but this episode may be his masterpiece. (The followup episodes aren’t quite as effective, as he shifts into “prove my innocence” mode.)
The other B-plot with Hill and Renko is emotionally disturbing, but to a certain extent seems like it’s either (a) way overblown or (b) mishandled on a departmental level. You’ll note that there’s been no indication since Hill and Renko were gunned down that they’ve gotten any sort of counseling. This could be ascribed to the times, but it wasn’t at all uncommon for cops to be required to get through a psych eval before going back on duty after being shot even in 1981. So one looks at the events in this episode and wonders just what the hell they’re doing shoving Hill and Renko out on duty when neither of them is right in the head yet.
One other complaint: the Relationship Talk between Furillo and Davenport is… bad. It’s just bad. It’s not the acting; Travanti and Hamel are consummate professionals. It’s the dialogue, which in this particular scene was stilted and off-putting. Davenport’s brief monologue has the same feel as a commercial for a prescription drug wherein the actors themselves are explaining the indications and side effects; your mental response is “who the hell talks like this to another human being in real life?”
So there’s good and there’s bad here this week, but the good does outweigh the bad by a significant margin.
Final score: 7
Next week: “Can World War III Be an Attitude?” Last episode’s foreshadowing pays off, and the squad takes advantage of a useful prisoner.
