(This was published on Max’s Facebook page in January of this year)
48 years ago today, a mid-season replacement by the name of Barney Miller premiered on ABC, and Thursday nights were never the same. For eight seasons we visited the men (and women) of the 12th Precinct each week and what a ride it was!
There was level headed, yet often exasperated Barney who always reminded his men to keep their perspective, the gruff and grumpy Fish, a broken down veteran cop who despite his constant complaints, really did love his wife Bernice, eager and sometimes obnoxious Wojo, who matures wonderfully throughout the series, learning to let go of his intolerant views and becoming a sensitive and big-hearted man who has an endearing father/son type relationship with Barney.
There was also streetwise, sharp witted and wisecracking Chano, squad room intellectual Harris (at least until Dietrich arrived!) who also matured wonderfully throughout the series as we watch him reach the heights of success when his book is published, and then fall back to earth when he loses it all, Nick, with his terrible filing system and even worse coffee, and whose death midway through the show’s run left a void that simply couldn’t be filled, Dietrich, who never failed to have the answers to questions his fellow detectives didn’t even know they had, Levitt, who just wanted to be one of the guys and gain Barney’s approval (and a promotion), Lugar, the old school cop that got left behind when the world moved on, and Lt. Scanlon, the man from internal affairs we all loved to hate.
For a time there was also Liz, Barney’s wife, who made no secret that she wished Barney was anything but a cop, and Wentworth, a female detective who held her own with the guys and gained their respect.
The series had a golden trifecta of incredible writers, gifted actors, and a chemistry like no other.
We seldom got a look beyond the squad room after the first season but the way the show’s writers and actors painted pictures with words and ignited imaginations, it didn’t have to.
Barney Miller was a sitcom, but the hilarity of a “werewolf” in the squad room, being quarantined, Harris’ high brow adult film, detectives accidentally getting high on hash brownies, Nick’s coffee, Wojo’s valiant attempts to pass the Sergeant’s exam, the wackiest stakeout ever, and who would dress up for mugging duty this week was expertly woven together with serious themes, and tender and even heartbreaking moments.
Who can forget Chano alone in his apartment, sobbing over having had to shoot and kill two robbers, Fish’s voice cracking as he finally realized he couldn’t avoid mandatory retirement any longer, Mr. Cotterman’s shocking death, the men grappling with the knowledge they’ve brought in a former Nazi who committed unspeakable atrocities, Barney and Liz’s separation and reconciliation, and the heartfelt and emotional tribute to the beloved Jack Soo?
In its own unique way the show offered lessons and social commentary too, ranging from discussions about death and what may lay beyond it in The Tunnel and The Indian, to the struggle Vietnam vets faced trying to get help for Agent Orange related illnesses in the episode of the same name.
We watched Harris’ justifiable rage at having been racially profiled and shot at by a fellow cop, Barney get an unpleasant look at what it’s like for the people he and his men send to jail (and his anger at seeing the cage is a mess tells us he won’t soon forget it), Dietrich come to terms with his fear of committing-to a career, Levitt’s heartfelt speech-and in drag no less-about the pain of not being accepted by the others (“You never treated me as anything but a joke!” he exclaims to the detectives. “Yeah well…you’re right,” an embarrassed Wojo admits), a battered wife struggling with whether to file charges on her husband or not, the detectives’ horror at finding out a suspect is suffering from the results of a modern day lobotomy (“I’m not a monster,” his doctor assured Barney as he left with the suspect, but he wasn’t convinced), the rescue of a intellectually disabled man who was being used as drug runner, and much more.
Every character that walked into the squad room was unique and memorable, played by some of the best character actors, including Christopher Lloyd and a relatively unknown Doris Roberts (one half of the Brauers, a hilarious couple who visited the squad several times for help with various marriage problems).
The series also broke ground by introducing us to TV’s first gay couple, Marty Morrison and Darryl Driscoll. Played by the brilliant character actors Jack DeLeon and Ray Stewart, Marty and Darryl visited the squad 8 times. Unlike other shows, they weren’t there just to be mocked. The show was serious about portraying a gay couple with respect instead of stereotypes. In fact in one episode Darryl gets annoyed with Marty, asking “Could we please stop perpetuating the stereotype for a moment and get on with this?”.
In Quarantine, Darryl and Marty end up stuck in the squad room overnight with the guys and Inspector Lugar, and they have a conversation that both amused and educated the audience:
“You two have a different relationship, hasn’t anyone ever pointed that out to you?” Lugar asks.
“Love and affection between two human beings is nothing to be ashamed of, Inspector.” Darryl replies.
“Of course not! But you two are carrying it too far, don’t you understand?” Lugar persists.
“It isn’t that much farther.” Darryl says simply.
In The Child Stealers we find out Darryl was previously married to a woman and had a son. When his ex refuses to honor their visitation agreement, he attempts to kidnap his son so he could see him.
As Wojo books him he struggles to understand why Darryl would give up his wife and child for another man.
“It seems like so much to give up for something that might just be a fad.”
“We’re not talking about the hula hoop Sergeant!” Darryl replied indignantly.
Darryl goes on to explain he was just going through the motions. We then realize he’s a loving father willing to fight for his son. When Mrs. Driscoll makes a comment about what “These people do” it leads to another groundbreaking moment when Officer Zatelli comes out as gay (previously only Barney knew). “Sorry for the interruption,” he says politely, and returns to his filing.
And then we find out Darryl’s ex really couldn’t care less that he’s gay, she’s just mad because she can’t compete with the Broadway shows and gourmet meals he showers their son with.
“Could you just tell him no once in awhile?” she asks.
The episode provided pivotal moments for both Darryl and Marty’s storyline and Zatelli, who we’ll find later will graciously forgive Wojo for accidentally outing him in front of Scanlon, and whom Barney doesn’t hesitate to protect from the Lieutenant’s bigotry. The show handled sensitive and uncomfortable moments with grace and respect. This is also a learning moment for Wojo, who enjoyed wonderful character development throughout the series. It was if we watched Wojo grow up and show us he had the biggest heart in the squad room.
All of these things made Barney Miller one of the best shows in TV history, and its magic will likely never be captured by any other TV series.
But all good things come to an end, and that was true for Barney Miller. In 1982, the 12th Precinct closed.
“I’d just like to say that, um, I mean, come on, cops get transferred all the time, I mean, it’s no big deal. But, I –I think it’s been different with us. Something really special happened here,” Harris says in the show’s final moments.
“Uh… we’re not getting split up. I mean, we’re — we’re going to different places and — and we may not see each other again. But, I think each of us got something special from each other. And we are going to nurture it and we are going to carry it with us for the rest of our lives,” Wojo added.
Harris and Wojo weren’t just talking about the squad. Their words could easily describe how the actors felt about the show as well.
It’s been 41 years since Barney and his men walked out of the squad room for the last time, but the show has endured and is available on DVD, streaming services, and is still airing in syndication on multiple TV stations. So in a way, the ol’ 1-2 never really closed, and hopefully it never will.
Raise your coffee cup and join me in wishing a happy anniversary to Barney Miller!