Garry has an undying devotion to old television series, amongst them “The Untouchables.” Robert Stack as Elliott Ness. Dum-de-dum-dum. The FBI enforcing … (ta-da) The Volstead Act. Prohibition! Holy Moly!
What a great show. When the cops are annoyed with you, they can beat the living crap out of you and if that doesn’t get you to spill your guts, they’ll toss you off the moving train. You have a problem with that? You too are disposable. They don’t pretend you have rights. You know you are dirt under their feet and they treat you accordingly. Like dirt under their feet.
This is a show that never made the slightest apology for being racist or pretended to have any interest in fairness, truth or justice. Violent and single-minded, they pursued people who broke a stupid law: a constitutional amendment to tell people they shouldn’t drink. We needed that.
Compassionate and restraint were for sissies. Nor were they overly worried much about legalities. They said “We are G-men. You will obey!” And everyone did. This is the FBI at its purest. They are not merely above the law. They are the law.
My favorite moment in tonight’s show was when the boys, ignoring even a nod to international law, take the FBI bus into Mexico to track down the guys who kidnapped their witness. “The bus broke down three times and the trip took 10 hours,” said the stentorian voice of the narrator.
“So what?” I said to Garry. “We live in the country. That could describe my last trip to the grocery store.”
Simple solutions to complicated problems. I love television. Especially 1950s television.