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Mind you, the great Royko wrote this in November 1967, a few months after the final episode of "The Fugitive", the David Janssen series that ran for four seasons combining elements of the real-life murder case of Dr. Sam Sheppard with "Les Miserables", with Dr. Richard Kimble (Janssen) as a Jean Valjean-like innocent man --- OK, Valjean stole a loaf of bread to feed his starving niece, while Kimble was wrongly convicted for murdering his wife --- doggedly pursued by the intrepid, Inspector Javert-like Lt. Philip Gerard (British actor Barry Morse).

The final episode was, for 16 years, the most-watched single TV episode in history. The Heroes and Icons TV network (www.handitv.com) will air the two-part denouement, "The Judgement", in just a couple more weeks. Just a few months after the series finale in the fall of 1967, the Chicago legend Royko penned this hilarious, if decidedly non-PC and Cancel Culture-ready column about Dr. Kimble's new life as a "free" (ahem) man:

WHATCHA MEAN, “FREE”??

Many of Dr. Richard Kimble’s fans wonder how he is doing, now that he is no longer “The Fugitive” and is back home in Indiana practicing medicine. I took a drive down to Stafford, Indiana, where he lived before being wrongfully convicted of murdering his wife and going on the lam for four years.
He was mowing the lawn in front of his large, tree-shaded house when I arrived. He consented to an interview.

“You don’t mind if I keep mowing the lawn while we talk, do you?”, he asked.

Not at all, doctor.

“We’ve got a dinner date at the country club and she’ll blow her stack if I don’t finish the lawn.”

She?

“My wife. You remember her --- Jean Carlisle, the girl who helped me right at the end.”

I remember. How is she?

“Getting a bit plump.”

Well, doctor, how do you like being free?

“Who’s free?”.

You are.

“Listen, I got this house to pay for, two cars, an expensive country club membership. I spend my days listening to hypochondriacs and my evenings attending civic meetings, medical association meetings, neighborhood improvement meetings. You call that being free?”

What I meant was, you are no longer a fugitive.

“That’s right; now I’m a prisoner. Just between you and me, I sure miss being a fugitive.”

You can’t be serious.

“Like heck I’m not. That was the life, moving from town to town, working as a bartender, truck driver, laborer, footloose and fancy free. I went everywhere and saw everything. Now I’m stuck in this hick town.”

Dr. Kimble, I’m shocked……

“And the women. Boy there was always some good-looking woman falling for me when I was The Fugitive. It must have been the hunted look in my eyes. I guess women are attracted by that.”

Nevertheless, you had the satisfaction of catching the one-armed man.

“That was my mistake. If I hadn’t got such a complex and him and just forgot about it, I’d still be at large. Those bungling cops would never have caught me.”

But the one-armed man killed your wife.

“So? Six more months with her and I’d have done it myself.”

Isn’t it a relief not to have Lt. Gerard constantly trying to catch you?

“Lt. Gerard couldn’t catch the flu.”

Do you ever see him?

“Sure. They busted him for wasting four years and all that money chasing me instead of the one-armed man. Now he’s a traffic cop. He’s always stopping me, but I slip him a fin and he lets me go. That’s the only thing I enjoy.”

But isn’t it good to be reunited with your sister, your brother-in-law, your…..

“My brother-in-law is a boob. They came over last night and he got drunk and spilled a drink all over the sofa. Frankly, I wish he’d been the killer, instead of the one-armed man.”

Isn’t peace of mind important to you?

“Who has it? Before, all I worried about was a few cops and brushing off some girl who fell for me. Now I read the papers and look at TV and I worry about Vietnam, air pollution, and college campus riots.”

But isn’t there some happiness in your life --- something to look forward to?

“Oh, sure.”

What?

“Another one-armed man."

--- Mike Royko, Chicago Daily News, 11-5-67

Royko was a charactah... maybe not too far off the mark here, neither.

An irony of this - the actual real-life murder this show adapted, was that Dr. Sam Sheppard very likely did, in fact, kill his pregnant wife - there was no one-armed or 'bushy haired' fellow a-tall - this is a wonderful site telling the tale :

https://youtu.be/QT_ZRq4nRs4?t=111

MikoTython wrote: ↑20 Nov 2024 20:30 pm Royko was a charactah... maybe not too far off the mark here, neither.

An irony of this - the actual real-life murder this show adapted, was that Dr. Sam Sheppard very likely did, in fact, kill his pregnant wife - there was no one-armed or 'bushy haired' fellow a-tall - this is a wonderful site telling the tale :

https://youtu.be/QT_ZRq4nRs4?t=111

Well-said! Sam Sheppard meets "Les Miserables", with David Janssen as Jean Valjean and Barry Morse as Inspector Javert. I record the series very early Monday mornings on MeTV and Frndly TV.

Slats Grobnik is smiling today.

The greatest column ever written:

This simple little quiz is directed at those who love hot dogs. Not any hot dog, but the true, classic Chicago hot dog. The finest hot dog known to man.
Look at the following recipe and see if something is wrong. If so, what?
Chicago hot dog: Vienna beef hot dog, poppy seed bun, dill pickle, jalapeños, relish, mustard, ketchup. Place dog in bun. Cover with jalapeños, relish, mustard, and ketchup. Serve with dill pickle.
The flaws are so obvious that by now those with civilized, discriminating Chicago taste buds are snorting and sneering and flinging this shameful recipe to the floor and spitting on it.
It deserves nothing less.
But not merely because it includes ketchup and omits sliced tomatoes, chopped onions, and that miraculous dash of celery salt.
No, I won't condemn anyone for putting ketchup on a hot dog. This is the land of the free. And if someone wants to put ketchup on a hot dog and actually eat the awful thing, that is their right.
It is also their right to put mayo or chocolate syrup or toenail clippings or cat hair on a hot dog.
Sure, it would be disgusting and perverted, and they would be shaming themselves and their loved ones. But under our system of government, it is their right to be barbarians.
The crime is in referring to the above abomination as a "Chicago hot dog."
And who did it?
Brace yourselves for a real shocker.
Some time ago, a hot dog recipe book was put together by the American Meat Institute, the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council, and other groups that promote the eating of dead animal flesh.
They got their recipes by calling the offices of United States senators. Being publicity freaks, most of the senators responded.
Most of the recipes are ridiculous, since most senators are ridiculous.
And this shameful recipe was contributed by Senator Carol Moseley-Braun.
Yes, Senator Moseley-Braun, who claims to be a Chicagoan, actually told them that a Chicago hot dog includes ketchup. And that it doesn't require chopped onion or sliced tomatoes or celery salt.
I don't know what could have possessed her to do such a thing. She is a liberal [political party], so I can understand her deep yearning to seize our money and throw it hither and yon like so much political confetti. That's part of the natural order of Washington creatures.
But to publicly state that you put ketchup on a Chicago hot dog? And overlook celery salt? It is said that power corrupts. I didn't know that it brings on utter madness.
Apparently Senator Moseley-Braun pays little or no attention to my efforts to maintain standards in those things that are unique to Chicago.
If she did, she would have noted a column that appeared here in July of 1993. In it, various hot dog experts commented on ketchup.
Maurie Berman, who owns Superdawg on the Northwest Side, where I've been eating classic hot dogs for about 40 years: "I see more and more desecrations of the Chicago hot dog. Yes, we provide ketchup, but we have the customer defile it himself.
"We say, 'Sir, the ketchup bottle is on the side. We'll ask you to squirt that yourself.'"
John Miyares, who serves hot dogs at Irving's near the Loyola University campus, says: "No ketchup, no kraut. That's the law. But when you're younger and your mom lets you put ketchup on the hot dog, you get used to it, I guess. The people about 35 and over, they get upset if you mention ketchup, especially if they're born and raised here. And even more if they're South Siders.
"But we get a lot of students from out of town, and they all want ketchup. Except if they're from New York. They want steamed sauerkraut."
Pat Carso, manager of Demon Dogs on the Mid-North Side, said: "You have to ask for it. And more people are asking. I don't know why. Maybe parents think it is better for their kids. But we choose not to put it on. Even if they say 'everything.' In here, that does not include ketchup. We don't even keep ketchup up front. We have a little bottle in the back if people ask for it."
These men are keepers of the flame. They are cultural and culinary descendants of the short Greeks who used to take their pushcarts into every Chicago neighborhood and would have thumbed the eyeballs of anyone who dared ask for ketchup.
But here we have a United States senator, allegedly representing Chicago and the rest of Illinois—even the Downstate yokels—and she shames herself and the rest of us by displaying her ignorance of what makes a hot dog a true Chicago hot dog.
I'm sure Senator Moseley-Braun has the usual excuse: Someone on her staff did it.
Well, forget it. That only proves that senators hire boobs.
No, the buck and the hot dog stops here.
There is time for Senator Moseley-Braun to mend her ways. But if the election were held today, I'd have to vote for just about anyone running against Senator Moseley-Braun.

https://press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago/730735.htm