CORONADO
9 (1960-61)
Suddenly
it's 1940! Reminiscent of a twenty-year-old movie premise, this
thirty-nine-episode syndicated series, produced by Revue Studios'
shoestring budget, starred the popular Republic Pictures Western
star, Rod Cameron. The Canadian-born actor played a former United
States Navy intelligence officer who is now an always-in-demand
private detective in this, his third and final law enforcement
series. The Navy provided a good pension. The show's title represents
his phone exchange in the affluent suburb of San Diego where the
iconic Hotel del Coronado got the attention of photographers. Owning
the massive slab of Lincoln Continental that got about seven miles
per gallon with a tailwind is another tip-off. He may reluctantly
take on an investigation being a wee bit tired of dodging bullets,
getting beaten up, or not trusting a client's motives.
Cameron's
baritone voice provides narration to introduce his
assignment—periodically
informing the viewer of his progress—and
typically wraps an episode to tie up any loose ends. His persona
might not solicit
Mike Hammer or Philip Marlowe, though one cannot help but like the
towering star. A friend one
could flawlessly reconnect with no
matter how long the separation. Reconnecting with the receiving end
of Cameron's fists is another matter. He has a permit to carry them.
His stunt double can be quite obvious—ironic
in that Cameron used to be one himself. It also explains why he is
never winded after an intense fistfight. Business-savvy Cameron
figured he would be better served financially by starring in another
syndicated series. Producers may have hoped the no-nonsense Cameron would carry the series on the heels of his popular, long-running series, State Trooper. This show possessed nothing unique and even
with an ideal time slot on either of the three major network's
prime-time schedules, it would not have survived long.
Not
to be too harsh, television's number one action man—according
to the series promo ads—did
have a winning smile and could charm the ladies.
He could also be a role model to the local lad looking for
summer work swabbing his boat. The San Diego filming—aside from the
projected background shots—adds authenticity. A number of episodes
were well-directed and well-paced with a twist or two. But sixty
years later, any twist may be untwisted sooner than later. A number
of episodes climaxed with a chase up a stairway or on rare occasions,
end with a touch of humor, sometimes at Cameron's expense. The
writers generally did a pretty good job in an era of equally talky,
and generally boring shows—Peter Gunn or Mr.
Lucky come to mind. Coronado 9's first episode is particularly
dull due to being filmed almost entirely in the confining space of
his sailboat. A fun trivia journey for boomers may be the familiar
guest stars, yet Revue's casting net was not wide, hiring actors with
limited television credits.
Cameron's
stalwart persona was perhaps better suited for holding reins than a
steering wheel. The Ford Motor Company appears to have been a sponsor
of the show. They were always convertibles because Cameron sat tall
in the vinyl. With Cameron's start
in Hollywood, his Western style might be best associated with Randolph Scott. If possible, imagine stalwart Scott as a
modern-day private detective behind the wheel. Do not expect
to see automobiles associated with the show's release date as the
series began filming in 1958. Neither expects the ubiquitous music to
be a signature element—unlike Peter Gunn—any more than the
nondescript opening theme as Cameron scans the bay, guessing where he
last anchored his boat.
Finally—it
can be assumed—due to his
Naval Intelligence years, “Dan Adams” had a deep social network
that eventually took him from Coronado to strange, exotic locales
around the world as more adventurer than mere detective. Implausibly,
it suggests everyone's only crime-solving choice had to be a somewhat
weary fifty-year-old P.I. from California.
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