Open Letter

I was the legal and production researcher on the series, Seasons 2 through 4, and, as such, I felt I had a unique perspective.

1977

Open Letter regarding “Starsky and Hutch”

This show isn’t about violence, or fast, flashy cars, or even fair-to-middling police work, as the vilifying press would have you believe, it’s about an extraordinary partnership. And the two men aren’t selling cars, or toothpaste, or Hamburger Helper, they’re selling love.

I am an avowed proponent of this much publicly maligned, but privately popular series. Not that it will do any good, but I’d like to make a few observations about the show, and why I find it so enjoyable and satisfying; perhaps it will edify some of those public-maligners, perhaps not.

The single aspect of the series that makes it different from any other, past or present, is the strength and beauty of the relationship between the two lead characters. David Starsky and Kenneth Hutchinson could be lawyers, or highway patrol officers, or frontiersmen (as the networks, in their continuing attempts to imitate success, are currently trying, ineptly, to demonstrate), but they happen to be just plain cops. And, as such, are involved, for the most part, in hackneyed plots, uninspired dialog and pedestrian production values; exactly like every other series on television. The difference, the uniqueness, is the actors themselves: they care about each other, they trust each other, they help each other, they love each other. And it’s that overall relationship that makes the program work.

But where does that relationship come from? Is it the writing? Production? Direction? Hardly. Having been in a position to study this series since its inception, from first-draft scripts through finished episodes, I know that it is none of the above. It is entirely the work of Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul in the title roles. Granted, the initial casting was the work of the Production Company, but from there, Paul and David created their roles and their partnership out of whole cloth (with very little assistance, and often open opposition), and their feelings for each other. Make no mistake: Starsky and Hutch’s partnership works because Paul and David’s partnership works; Starsky and Hutch love each other because Paul and David love each other. And that’s not something you can order from Central Casting. When Starsky has to tell Hutch that Gillian was killed because she was a prostitute who wanted out of the business, Paul stands there and accepts David’s agonized abuse, wishing there were any way in the world to spare his partner such pain, and sharing that pain as if it were his own; then holds him while he cries – holds him just as tightly as he can – no phony arms-length shoulder pats and swallowed crocodile tears, but genuine, searing, raw emotions (which, incidentally, brought the hardened, blasé production crew of more than 30 people to unashamed tears and, after the required, “Cut! Print!!!” spontaneous applause).

And, speaking of how tight there two are, here’s another observation about this unique pair, both on- and off-screen: They support each other, console each other, kid each other, question each other, answer each other and just plain talk to each other without a word of dialog. They’re the first actors I have ever seen who voluntarily cut their own lines. The “shooting scripts” often contain whole sections of dialog between the characters that the boys cut during filming because they just didn’t need them. Sidebar: the editors are very aware of this silent communication and make exquisite use of it. On any other show most of their non-dialog footage would end up on the cutting room floor. Kudos, Asa, George, et al.

This is not to say that David and Paul don’t have their differences of opinion, they do, often quite vociferously. But this is to be expected, they are totally different people, with drastically different ways of looking at things and trying to accomplish things. But through everything that’s happened (and there have been boat-loads of problems, both publicized and not), they have worked to develop and protect their friendship.

And we, the viewing public, have been the beneficiary of that work. And I mean that in the definitive sense, as in “deriving benefit from…” “Starsky and Hutch” has put the concept of love back in friendship, and it has showed us how beautiful and rewarding a friendship can be. It has also put the term “partner” into a new context. The young people of this country have begun using this word to mean “best friend, usually of the same sex.” My own best friend has a 14-year old nephew who brought a young man named, Jeff, home for dinner one evening and introduced him as his partner. A 13-year-old boy involved in a commuter train accident in Chicago recently was anxiously trying to find out what had happened to his partner; the news item explaining in parentheses, “his best friend.”

Educationally, the series has had wide application: a high school in Illinois shows video tapes of “Starsky and Hutch” in its course, “Friendship and Devotion.” A Cub Scout troop in Ventura, CA. spent the entire day after the repeat showing last summer of “The Fix,” discussing the ramifications and horrors of drug abuse. That same episode has been used as a veritable documentary on heroin addiction and withdrawal by an eastern medical school.

Most of this has, of course, appeared in print, to greater or lesser extent, but allow me to mention one aspect of the relationship about which I’ve never seen a printed comment: they touch each other. In this world of suspicion, uptight concern for “the proprieties,” and fear of being stigmatized and ostracized from approved society, they have enough faith in their own convictions and trust in each other’s manhood to be able and willing, and even seem to need to touch each other. From the casual jab emphasizing a point, to the palm of a hand on the partner’s stomach (a part of the anatomy, along with the back of the neck, the thigh, the butt, previously verboten), to one of them cradling the other in his arms in an attempt to alleviate unbearable physical and/or emotional pain, the tactile sense in this series is very important. But it is never obvious; they don’t telegraph their intentions to the viewers with gestures or winks or other body language that practically shout “Hey, I’m gonna touch my partner.” They just do it. It’s as natural, and possibly necessary between them, as breathing. Would that we could all feel as comfortable with our friends.

So that‘s it. Oh, I could go on but you‘re probably tired of reading. Thanks for listening to my opinions and experiences. In closing I’d just like to say a sincere, “Thank you” to Paul and David for making my life, and that of the many others who admire the series, a little better, happier, more positive just by watching you every week.

With gratitude and appreciation,

Patricia Ackor

deForest Research