The Rockford Files Files
In which Jim meets up with a childhood friend and wishes he hadn't.

With the start of season 2, the theme’s been changed a little. Not much, but the instrumentation is slightly different. I think everything else about the opening credits is the same, and goodness you can’t miss that it’s set in Los Angeles. Or made in the ’70s. Of course, those are the most notable things about the show in a lot of ways, so that’s okay. This is not a show that believes in hiding itself. You’re watching this show, you’re getting exactly what you expect.
Jim’s childhood friend Aaron Ironwood (James Hampton) is coming to town. He lived with Jim and Rocky for a while as a boy, after his parents were killed and before he was taken into foster care. He now runs a “get rich quick” seminar. He’s got a private plane and on and on. Rocky is enormously proud of him. He tells Jim he wants to sell him the company to prevent a mobster (Jerome Guardino) from buying it; Jim tells him that, if it turns out Aaron is lying to him, he’ll sell the company. Boy, is Aaron lying to him.
Rocky assures Jim that he loves him and is proud of him, but it’s no wonder Jim is having a hard time accepting that. It’s not just that Rocky is so excited about Aaron and so vocal about how much he admires him and how happy he is that Aaron is a success. It’s that he’s lied about what Jim does for a living over and over again. He doesn’t show that he’s proud of Jim even when Jim helps him. And, sure, Rocky’s disappointed that Jim didn’t follow him into trucking, but he makes that a bigger deal than he should if he wants Jim to believe in his father’s love.
I assume Jim’s mom had died by the time Aaron was in their house and that it’s why Aaron was sent to foster care instead. As if being in foster care was a healthier environment for him than being in a single-parent household. Given Jim’s age, that would’ve been the ’40s; if we assume they’re the age James Hampton was, it would’ve been the ’50s. Neither decade would’ve been particularly happy with a man raising two kids.
I frankly adore the cabbie (Gammy Burdett) who picks Jim up after the feds let him go. She’s in the episode for about a minute and a half and I already want an entire series about her. I also like that Jim makes no mention of the fact that she’s a black woman; he just treats her as though she’s doing a job. Which she is. He shows her more respect than his father shows him most of the time, and I wonder if Rocky would even notice that if Jim pointed it out to him.
Take Care of Rockford Files: Held at gunpoint almost before the credits are over. Car chase in a pizza delivery car. Fist fight. Held at gunpoint again. Hit by a mobster. Shot at.
About the writer
Gillian Nelson
Gillian Nelson is a forty-something bipolar woman living in the Pacific Northwest after growing up in Los Angeles County. She and her boyfriend have one son and one daughter, and she gave a child up for adoption. She fills her days by chasing around her kids, watching a lot of movies, and reading. She particularly enjoys pre-Code films, blaxploitation, and live-action Disney movies of the '60s and '70s. She has a Patreon account.
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IMDb reminds me that the cast included Jonathan Goldsmith, the future “Most Interesting Man in the World.”
I always wondered what happened to Jim’s mother. She doesn’t get so much as a name. Part of me figured there could have been a story about that. Most of me is glad that this didn’t end up some soap opera trope, and I would lay heavy odds that whoever is writing the script for the ill-conceived pilot for a reboot is racking their brains trying to come up with too much backstory.
I’ve got a draft of The Rockfood Files sitting on my computer, and the gimmick with it is that it’s Rocky’s personal cookbook. We mention Jim’s mother once or twice (I’m writing it with Anthony), but we almost never give more information about her than appears on the show. I invented a sister who can’t cook and is kind of weird, but only to dump some of the more bizarre ’70s food fads onto. My family never talks about my dad, either; some families just don’t talk about the dead very often.