Post by cellogal on Jul 27, 2008 15:50:49 GMT -5
August 29, 1958
Radio station, where we hear a commercial for a no-doubt delightful product called “Happy Beer.” I’m intrigued already. A guy walks down the hall smoking a cigarette and is immediately accosted by two fangirls, who ask him to play Summertime Blues for them tonight and hold out pictures for him to autograph. He thinks he can fit that song in. One of the fangirls licks her lollipop suggestively and tells the guy that she always listens to him right before she goes to sleep; his voice feels so close, she says, that it feels like he’s in bed with her. WELL. That’s just…unnecessary. The guy doesn’t think so, though, as he flirtatiously asks the girl her name. “Gloria,” she replies. He autographs the picture, then wishes her sweet dreams. He leaves, and the fangirls dissolve into giggles.
He then heads into the studio, where he tells a guy, Bones, that the mike’s starting to pick that up. Bones says he’s called maintenance fifty times, apologizes to the guy, whose name is Hawk, and says he’s on it. Hawk asks Bones if he has something for him: he does. It’s the latest Roy Hamilton single, which sounds like it’s in 3-D. Wait…how can something…sound…like it’s in 3-D? I’m confused. Hawk says he’s heard about that new thing called stereo, and Bones asks him if he’s going to play it. “Only if I like it,” Hawk replies, and Bones proclaims this “smokin’,” then tells Hawk of his plans to buy a Gibson guitar just like the one in that song. “Hold on, Elvis,” Hawk says. “Let’s get to work.” Bones leaves, and Hawk pulls the mike closer and launches into his DJ routine, announcing to Philly that he’s their “Cool Rockin’ Daddy,” and other 50s-style DJ-isms. I see that DJs weren’t any less annoying 50 years ago than they are now. He urges Philly to Turn It Up (although, judging from the volume of his voice, I’d Turn It Down) and announces Gene Vincent’s “Say Mama,” punctuated by a wolf howl, which is patently out of context, considering he’s “The Hawk.” Seriously, maybe he should perfect a hawk-call or something.
At a local hangout, the teenagers are dancing, laughing, and generally enjoying the music, and so are the ones playing stickball in the streets.
A bit later, The Hawk suggests slowing it down for a little ballad called “Scarlet Rose.” The teenagers have taken his advice, deciding to forgo the merriment for making out when…oh, snap…the record gets stuck. Apparently this sort of thing used to happen all the time. The teenagers sit up and take notice, The Mood clearly ruined by the record skippage. They stare in disbelief at the car radio, as though willing it with the power of their minds to un-skip so they can resume canoodling.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, there’s blood all over the record in the studio, and The Hawk lies dead at the controls, a pistol in his right hand. We can see from the coroner’s report that his death was ruled a suicide.
Present Day
Squad room. A guy we’ve never seen before sits at the computer, and Stillman, who’s coming out of his office with Lilly in tow, explains to her that a filmmaker working on a documentary on 1950s DJ John Hawkins. “Oh, The Hawk?” Lilly says with a smile, and Stillman gives her a “No way are you old enough to remember The Hawk” look. Lilly explains that her mom used to go to The Hawk’s sock hops, and said he was pretty wild. Stillman remarks that the late ‘50s were a crazy time to be a kid. Lilly asks teasingly if Stillman was a rocker, and he admits to having a radio, then introduces Lilly to Tom Bergen, who’s been looking at a tape recording that began seconds after Hawk died. Vera remembers Hawkins combing his hair with a .38 live on the air, and Stillman says that’s what they thought, but apparently, as Hawkins slumped over, his hand hit the on switch of an in-studio tape recorder. My, but that’s…convenient. Lilly asks if he taped his shows, and Vera explains that it was for reruns. “And no one’s heard this before,” Lilly continues. “Years ago,” Tom explains, but goes on to boast that no one’s heard what he’s heard, because no one had this equipment. Vera asks impatiently if it’s ready yet, Tom needs one sec, then launches into Sound Guy Geek-Speak, which clearly goes over the heads of all the detectives (and your trusty recapper). Vera finally interrupts the monologue, telling Tom that no one understands a word he’s saying. Heeee. Tom stares at him for a moment, then starts the tape, explaining that this is right after the gunshot. He lowers the sound of the record so all they can hear is the ambience in the DJ booth. Once he does so, we hear what Lilly correctly identifies as footsteps, and Stillman concludes that Hawkins wasn’t in there alone. We then hear a creak, which Vera guesses might be a door, then asks if someone’s leaving. Tom then informs us that it’s quiet for 30 minutes until the janitor ran in. Stillman surmises that either Hawkins rose from the dead and walked out of there… “…or his murderer did,” Lilly finishes. Despite the fact that the murderer wouldn’t have needed to rise from the dead to do so, I’m gonna put my money on the latter.
Credits.
Stillman’s office. Scotty, ever the history dunce, looks at some posters and expresses surprise that the DJ got top billing over the musicians, and Stillman explains that the DJs were as big as the rock stars back then, reminiscing about Alan Freed in New York, Wolfman Jack in LA, and The Hawk in Philly. Scotty says he can’t even name a DJ on the air now, and Stillman tells him that, back then, DJs were the taste-makers. They picked the songs that made or broke careers. With this information in tow, Scotty theorizes that Hawk might have been the target of a wannabe rock star. Jeffries thinks perhaps some record company sued, pointing out that that was the time of Payola. Scotty, apparently, has heard of Payola, the time where DJ’s took bribes from record companies to play certain songs. Jeffries says that, as far as they know, Hawkins never took payouts; he was a fan of the music, even playing black artists to white teens. Scotty asks Jeffries if he was a fan. “No,” Jeffries says. “I like country music.” Wait. A. Minute. Country? Jeffries? Stillman is as surprised as I am. “Country,” he repeats. Jeffries then surprises us all even further by telling us that he was a DJ in college, then, to my utter amusement, launches into his DJ routine. “This is Will Jeffries, comin’ at you live. Here’s Hank Williams with ‘My Son Calls Another Man Daddy.’” Oh, this is hysterically funny. Scotty grins in amusement, and Stillman bursts out laughing. “Y’know, just when you think you know someone,” Scotty comments. Stillman turns our attention away from the hilarity that is Country DJ Jeffries back to the matter at hand, explaining that the theory back then was suicide; the gunshot wound looked self-inflicted, and they didn’t have modern forensics back then. Scotty, looking at the file, learns that Hawk was divorced at 24, and the ex-wife inherited his money. Jeffries proclaims this a good motive, but says that Hawk was broke. Stillman theorizes that maybe she found that out after the fact, then says that, even if she’s not the doer, first wives know all the dirt.
Scotty’s attention is interrupted by the arrival of an extremely attractive woman, and he excuses himself. I’ll BET he does. Oh, wait…upon closer inspection, it’s his sister-in-law, Allie. Never mind. Scotty greets her and asks if everything’s okay; she doesn’t know, then tells Scotty that his brother has stopped going to work, has been in bed for three days straight. Scotty asks if Mike’s sick, and Allie says he’s not according to the doctor. She tells Scotty pointedly that Mike hasn’t been the same since the day Scotty came over. Scotty plays dumb, and Allie plaintively asks him what he said to Mike. Scotty claims it was nothing, they were just talking, and she glares at him for a minute, then tells Scotty that she’s scared: Mike sleeps all day, and at night, he wanders around the house like a ghost. Scotty promises to stop by today, and that Mike will be fine. Allie smiles slightly and takes off.
Hawkins’ ex-wife’s place. She explains to Lilly and Jeffries that she and Hawk married young: he was a free spirit; she wanted kids and a simple, quiet life, and he wanted to rock and roll. She explains that her father was a musician, and she knew firsthand how tough that life could be. Lilly asks the ex if she stayed in touch with Hawk, and she didn’t; she remarried, started a family, and didn’t want the likes of John around. Jeffries asks the ex-wife, Dottie, where she was the night Hawk was shot, and she says she was at home with her family. Jeffries then asks when she last saw John; it was a month before he died, had been 13 years since she’d last seen him, and she was selling their house. Lilly asks if Hawk agreed to that, and she says it was bought with her money, but back then, a woman could only get a loan if a man co-signed. “Different times,” Lilly remarks, then asks Dottie where Hawk was the last time she saw him. Same as always, she says. “In the middle of a mess.”
Studio, where Hawk’s finishing a commercial for Zip Toothpaste. This is eventually replaced by the aptly named “Dottie,” by a group called Danny & The Juniors. My, but fifties band names are entertaining. Dottie walks in when Hawk’s done with the commercial, and he asks her how she’s been. She’s not in the mood for chitchat, just tells him to sign the bottom of the form she has in her hand. He’s about to sign, then asks how the family is. “Everyone’s fine,” she says nervously. Hawk’s still conversational, telling Dottie that he heard a record by her dad the other day. She asks if he sounded like a drunken fool, Hawk says he sounded instead like a great bass player. Bones bursts in then, upset because Hawk apparently didn’t play the song Bones wrote, and he demands to know what happened. Hawk asks Bones if he’s been drinking; Bones doesn’t answer, just says he had a bunch of friends, and this girl, Sally, from the roller rink. They were all at the drive-in, tuned into the show, waiting to hear Bones’ song. “Belly Button Rock?” Hawk asks. Oh, THAT can’t be a good sign. I wouldn’t play it, either, based on the name alone. Hawk says he listened to it, and it’s not so hot. Hey, apparently you CAN judge a song by its title! Bones asks if Hawk is saying he’s got no talent; Hawk’s saying he only plays what he likes. “Baloney sandwich, Hawk,” Bones says, then accuses Hawk of only playing what the record company pays him to play. Hawk reminds Bones that this isn’t true. Bones suggests that he get his dad to buy Hawk one of them new Skylarks, but Hawk insists that he’s not for sale, he never was, and then tells Dottie he’s sorry she had to see this. Bone protests that he told Sally he’d be on the radio. Hawk replies that he’d do anything to help Bones, but Bones knows how he is about the music. Bones relents, and Hawk assures him that Sally will still dig him, rock and roll star or not. Actually, if he’s writing songs with titles like “Belly Button Rock,” I’d guess she’d dig him more if she didn’t know that little tidbit. Bones’ eyes fall on the gun on Hawk’s desk, then tells him that he’d better lock up that gun, since he never knows who could get to it. Hawk asks if that’s a threat, and Bones responds by telling Hawk that he can’t keep stomping on people’s dreams and getting away with it, then storms out.
Jeffries asks whose gun it was, and Dottie says it was Hawk’s; he always kept it at work. “So many crazies out there,” she says, and Lilly thinks Bones may have been one of them.
Bones’ office. Vera reminds Bones of his meltdown with The Hawk, and Bones says he had dreams, and thought that The Hawk didn’t appreciate the next Elvis. Kat surmises that maybe Bones found Hawk’s gun and made him appreciate Bones, but Bones says he came back the next day, hat in hand, and Hawk forgave him. Vera realizes that Bones was at the station the night Hawk was killed, and Bones says he was DJing a party that night, so he left. “Plenty of witnesses,” he says. Bones goes on to say that Hawk’s career advice saved him from years of futility. “Your songs were that bad?” Vera asks. Bones freely admits that they were terrible, but he could still recognize talent in others, and built a career on that. Kat congratulates him, and Bones says he learned what music really was from Hawk, whom he proclaims one in a million. Kat asks Bones if anyone would want to hurt Hawk, and Bones says that a lot of people didn’t care for him, but one guy had more than a garden-variety beef with him.
Sock hop, where Hawk’s DJing and playing “Rock, Rock, Rock “ by Jimmy Cavallo & His House Rockers. The song ends, and Hawk immediately puts on a faster one, then urges the kids to “shake it.” They cheer in response, and he whips them into a frenzy, and they begin “shaking it.” An older guy watches the commotion, looking like he’s getting a headache, and approaches Hawk as he leaves the stage. The guy asks Hawk if his mama’s colored; she must be, since Hawk likes playing “this jumpity-squawk” so much. Hawk says it’s rock ‘n roll, then urges the guy to take the stick out of his tail and enjoy the beat. Hee. The guy grabs Hawk and asks if he recalls the name Carly Chester. He doesn’t, and the guy says she’s one of the girls he’s got out there dancing like a lovely woman. Hawk protests that those kids are alive, because they can feel the music. The guy argues that Carly’s sixteen, his little girl, and is in trouble: a month ago, she went to one of Hawk’s sock hops, says she met him at a party afterward. Hawk says he meets a lot of fans; Mr. Chester says Hawk did a lot more than “meet” his daughter. RUH-roh. Hawk’s afraid that Mr. Chester’s been misinformed; he asks if Hawk’s calling his little girl a liar. Hawk says he isn’t, but swears he’s not the father. Mr. Chester levels Hawk with some fifties-style threat if he doesn’t take responsibility, then walks away, point made. Hawk urges Bones to turn up the music; Bones does.
Bones says that teenyboppers always did love The Hawk, and Vera says it sounds like he did some lovin’ back. Hee. “The kind that gets you arrested,” Kat adds. “Or shot in the head with a .38,” Vera replies.
Squad room. Lilly asks Mr. Chester, whose name is Lloyd, if he recalls The Hawk. Lloyd says he never did care for that kind of music. Jeffries reminds Lloyd that Hawk got his daughter pregnant back in ’58, and Lloyd says he was wrong about that: Carly lied. “It was her moron boyfriend,” he says, “who’s now my moron son-in-law.” Heh. Lloyd says he thought Hawkins killed himself; Lilly tells him Hawk was murdered, and Lloyd’s not surprised to hear it: he saw Hawk in a neighborhood diner from time to time; two ships passing in the night. Lilly asks Lloyd if he wants to elaborate, and Lloyd says that, a few months before Hawk died, he took his family to breakfast before Sunday services, and Hawk was there. “Coming off of a late night?” Jeffries asks. “And getting into trouble with a young girl again,” Lloyd adds.
Diner, where we hear Gene Vincent’s “Be-Bop-A-Lula.” The Chesters sit, eating their breakfast, and Lloyd glowers in the direction of a gorgeous young woman, who slowly makes her way from the jukebox to where Hawk’s sitting. She greets him with a confusing opening line about racetracks, and Hawk tells her she looks familiar and asks if they’ve met. “On the radio,” she says, then slides into the booth, says she’s his number one fan, and tells him she can call her Jenny. Hawk says Jenny’s a nice name, and Jenny expresses her hope that she’s not bothering him. She’s not. Jenny asks Hawk to play “My Kind of Dream” for her tonight; he agrees, then asks her what her kind of dream is. “Gettin’ out of this town,” Jenny says, going anywhere. Hawk says Anywhere is a nice place; he’s been there several times. “It’s gotta be better than secretarial school,” Jenny replies. Hawk grins and asks her if it’s so bad, and Jenny proclaims it “a train right to Squaresville,” then tells him her dream is to be a singer. “Get in line,” Hawk says, “it’s a hard one.” “But it’s my dream,” Jenny replies. “People in line aren’t my problem.” Hey, that’s actually a really great attitude to have. Hawk proclaims Jenny feisty, and she says she was born that way. A guy with a pompadour comes up then and asks Jenny what she’s doing with Gramps; she proclaims it none of his business. Pompadour grabs at her, Hawk tells him to go take a walk and cool off. Pompadour tells Hawk that he should keep his nose out of it, “before I break it for you.” Hawk observes that Pompadour rode in here on a bicycle and says he’s quaking in his boots. Heh. Jenny giggles, quickly stops when Pompadour glares at her, then tells Pompadour, whose name is “Skiz,” that she’s staying, and orders him to scat. “Whoop-de-doo,” he says as he leaves.
Lilly asks if Lloyd knows Skiz’s real name: it’s Scott Stenkovic. Lloyd remembers because he made the front page of the paper a few years later. “Boy Scout of the Year?” Jeffries asks drily. “Armed robbery,” Lloyd corrects, explaining that Skiz shot a bank teller.
Squad room. Kat reminds Skiz that he had it out for Hawkins big-time, and Stillman tells him they know he’s not shy with a firearm. Skiz says that, since Hawk was a grown man going after a girl half his age, he deserved to get shot. Stillman asks Skiz where he was the night of the murder: bowling at the Thunderbird Lanes, he says. He and a hundred other kids heard that needle skip. Stillman tells Skiz that they’ll check that out. “Whoop-de-doo,” he replies. Kat asks Skiz if Jenny was his girlfriend. He says she was, for a couple of months, before she got all obsessed with Hawkins. “How obsessed?” Stillman asks, and Skiz says she kept calling Hawk on the radio and talking about him nonstop; real psycho stuff. Kat asks if they had an affair, and Skiz says she must have; why else would she care two pennies about that loser? Kat says it sounds like it was a one-way street, and Skiz explains that Jenny got crazier and crazier. One night, he says, they were in front of a real rock star, and as usual, all she cared about was The Hawk.
Sock hop. Hawk introduces Little Richard, and the crowd cheers. Little Richard begins singing “Ready Teddy ,” and the teenagers begin to shake it. All except for Jenny, who insists that Skiz help her get to The Hawk. Skiz tells her she’s acting nutso, and she protests that he doesn’t understand. Skiz calls Hawk an old coot and asks why she cares; she orders him not to talk about Hawk like that. “You’re on your own, Doll Face,” Skiz says, and is about to take off, but Jenny tells him that, if he does this, they can go park later. “Promise?” he asks, and Jenny asks if he’s helping her get to Hawk or not. Oh, he so is. “Whoop-de-doo,” Skiz replies, and leads her away.
As they approach backstage, Bones stops them; Skiz says they’ve gotta talk to The Hawk, and Bones retorts that he’s got a date with Jayne Mansfield. Jenny sees Hawk and calls to him. He ignores her, and she takes advantage of the fact that Bones is distracted by Skiz to run after him and demand to know why he stopped taking her calls. He claims to have been busy, then tells Jenny she shouldn’t be back there. Jenny says she just wants to talk, “about us.” Hawk says there is no “us,” and Jenny digs in her purse for a record, which she gives to Hawk and tells him she made it for him. He glances down at the record, and we see that it’s “Scarlet Rose.” She orders him to play it, telling him he’ll understand everything. She then tells him she’ll never forget him and departs.
Kat realizes that this was the same song Hawk was playing on the radio when he was killed, and Stillman asks Skiz if he knows where they can find Jenny. Skiz says he ran into her after he got out of jail, and she’s all married, Mrs. Jenny Money, and pretended like she didn’t know him. “That’s a surprise,” Kat remarks drily. Heh. Skiz asks if he can get out of there, and Stillman agrees. Stillman says it sounds like a Groupie Gone Wild, and Kat adds that, at seventeen, you think your first love is your last. Stillman says that every fan knew where Hawk broadcast, and wonders if Jenny found her way there. “And found Hawk’s gun,” Kat finishes.
Radio station, where we hear a commercial for a no-doubt delightful product called “Happy Beer.” I’m intrigued already. A guy walks down the hall smoking a cigarette and is immediately accosted by two fangirls, who ask him to play Summertime Blues for them tonight and hold out pictures for him to autograph. He thinks he can fit that song in. One of the fangirls licks her lollipop suggestively and tells the guy that she always listens to him right before she goes to sleep; his voice feels so close, she says, that it feels like he’s in bed with her. WELL. That’s just…unnecessary. The guy doesn’t think so, though, as he flirtatiously asks the girl her name. “Gloria,” she replies. He autographs the picture, then wishes her sweet dreams. He leaves, and the fangirls dissolve into giggles.
He then heads into the studio, where he tells a guy, Bones, that the mike’s starting to pick that up. Bones says he’s called maintenance fifty times, apologizes to the guy, whose name is Hawk, and says he’s on it. Hawk asks Bones if he has something for him: he does. It’s the latest Roy Hamilton single, which sounds like it’s in 3-D. Wait…how can something…sound…like it’s in 3-D? I’m confused. Hawk says he’s heard about that new thing called stereo, and Bones asks him if he’s going to play it. “Only if I like it,” Hawk replies, and Bones proclaims this “smokin’,” then tells Hawk of his plans to buy a Gibson guitar just like the one in that song. “Hold on, Elvis,” Hawk says. “Let’s get to work.” Bones leaves, and Hawk pulls the mike closer and launches into his DJ routine, announcing to Philly that he’s their “Cool Rockin’ Daddy,” and other 50s-style DJ-isms. I see that DJs weren’t any less annoying 50 years ago than they are now. He urges Philly to Turn It Up (although, judging from the volume of his voice, I’d Turn It Down) and announces Gene Vincent’s “Say Mama,” punctuated by a wolf howl, which is patently out of context, considering he’s “The Hawk.” Seriously, maybe he should perfect a hawk-call or something.
At a local hangout, the teenagers are dancing, laughing, and generally enjoying the music, and so are the ones playing stickball in the streets.
A bit later, The Hawk suggests slowing it down for a little ballad called “Scarlet Rose.” The teenagers have taken his advice, deciding to forgo the merriment for making out when…oh, snap…the record gets stuck. Apparently this sort of thing used to happen all the time. The teenagers sit up and take notice, The Mood clearly ruined by the record skippage. They stare in disbelief at the car radio, as though willing it with the power of their minds to un-skip so they can resume canoodling.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, there’s blood all over the record in the studio, and The Hawk lies dead at the controls, a pistol in his right hand. We can see from the coroner’s report that his death was ruled a suicide.
Present Day
Squad room. A guy we’ve never seen before sits at the computer, and Stillman, who’s coming out of his office with Lilly in tow, explains to her that a filmmaker working on a documentary on 1950s DJ John Hawkins. “Oh, The Hawk?” Lilly says with a smile, and Stillman gives her a “No way are you old enough to remember The Hawk” look. Lilly explains that her mom used to go to The Hawk’s sock hops, and said he was pretty wild. Stillman remarks that the late ‘50s were a crazy time to be a kid. Lilly asks teasingly if Stillman was a rocker, and he admits to having a radio, then introduces Lilly to Tom Bergen, who’s been looking at a tape recording that began seconds after Hawk died. Vera remembers Hawkins combing his hair with a .38 live on the air, and Stillman says that’s what they thought, but apparently, as Hawkins slumped over, his hand hit the on switch of an in-studio tape recorder. My, but that’s…convenient. Lilly asks if he taped his shows, and Vera explains that it was for reruns. “And no one’s heard this before,” Lilly continues. “Years ago,” Tom explains, but goes on to boast that no one’s heard what he’s heard, because no one had this equipment. Vera asks impatiently if it’s ready yet, Tom needs one sec, then launches into Sound Guy Geek-Speak, which clearly goes over the heads of all the detectives (and your trusty recapper). Vera finally interrupts the monologue, telling Tom that no one understands a word he’s saying. Heeee. Tom stares at him for a moment, then starts the tape, explaining that this is right after the gunshot. He lowers the sound of the record so all they can hear is the ambience in the DJ booth. Once he does so, we hear what Lilly correctly identifies as footsteps, and Stillman concludes that Hawkins wasn’t in there alone. We then hear a creak, which Vera guesses might be a door, then asks if someone’s leaving. Tom then informs us that it’s quiet for 30 minutes until the janitor ran in. Stillman surmises that either Hawkins rose from the dead and walked out of there… “…or his murderer did,” Lilly finishes. Despite the fact that the murderer wouldn’t have needed to rise from the dead to do so, I’m gonna put my money on the latter.
Credits.
Stillman’s office. Scotty, ever the history dunce, looks at some posters and expresses surprise that the DJ got top billing over the musicians, and Stillman explains that the DJs were as big as the rock stars back then, reminiscing about Alan Freed in New York, Wolfman Jack in LA, and The Hawk in Philly. Scotty says he can’t even name a DJ on the air now, and Stillman tells him that, back then, DJs were the taste-makers. They picked the songs that made or broke careers. With this information in tow, Scotty theorizes that Hawk might have been the target of a wannabe rock star. Jeffries thinks perhaps some record company sued, pointing out that that was the time of Payola. Scotty, apparently, has heard of Payola, the time where DJ’s took bribes from record companies to play certain songs. Jeffries says that, as far as they know, Hawkins never took payouts; he was a fan of the music, even playing black artists to white teens. Scotty asks Jeffries if he was a fan. “No,” Jeffries says. “I like country music.” Wait. A. Minute. Country? Jeffries? Stillman is as surprised as I am. “Country,” he repeats. Jeffries then surprises us all even further by telling us that he was a DJ in college, then, to my utter amusement, launches into his DJ routine. “This is Will Jeffries, comin’ at you live. Here’s Hank Williams with ‘My Son Calls Another Man Daddy.’” Oh, this is hysterically funny. Scotty grins in amusement, and Stillman bursts out laughing. “Y’know, just when you think you know someone,” Scotty comments. Stillman turns our attention away from the hilarity that is Country DJ Jeffries back to the matter at hand, explaining that the theory back then was suicide; the gunshot wound looked self-inflicted, and they didn’t have modern forensics back then. Scotty, looking at the file, learns that Hawk was divorced at 24, and the ex-wife inherited his money. Jeffries proclaims this a good motive, but says that Hawk was broke. Stillman theorizes that maybe she found that out after the fact, then says that, even if she’s not the doer, first wives know all the dirt.
Scotty’s attention is interrupted by the arrival of an extremely attractive woman, and he excuses himself. I’ll BET he does. Oh, wait…upon closer inspection, it’s his sister-in-law, Allie. Never mind. Scotty greets her and asks if everything’s okay; she doesn’t know, then tells Scotty that his brother has stopped going to work, has been in bed for three days straight. Scotty asks if Mike’s sick, and Allie says he’s not according to the doctor. She tells Scotty pointedly that Mike hasn’t been the same since the day Scotty came over. Scotty plays dumb, and Allie plaintively asks him what he said to Mike. Scotty claims it was nothing, they were just talking, and she glares at him for a minute, then tells Scotty that she’s scared: Mike sleeps all day, and at night, he wanders around the house like a ghost. Scotty promises to stop by today, and that Mike will be fine. Allie smiles slightly and takes off.
Hawkins’ ex-wife’s place. She explains to Lilly and Jeffries that she and Hawk married young: he was a free spirit; she wanted kids and a simple, quiet life, and he wanted to rock and roll. She explains that her father was a musician, and she knew firsthand how tough that life could be. Lilly asks the ex if she stayed in touch with Hawk, and she didn’t; she remarried, started a family, and didn’t want the likes of John around. Jeffries asks the ex-wife, Dottie, where she was the night Hawk was shot, and she says she was at home with her family. Jeffries then asks when she last saw John; it was a month before he died, had been 13 years since she’d last seen him, and she was selling their house. Lilly asks if Hawk agreed to that, and she says it was bought with her money, but back then, a woman could only get a loan if a man co-signed. “Different times,” Lilly remarks, then asks Dottie where Hawk was the last time she saw him. Same as always, she says. “In the middle of a mess.”
Studio, where Hawk’s finishing a commercial for Zip Toothpaste. This is eventually replaced by the aptly named “Dottie,” by a group called Danny & The Juniors. My, but fifties band names are entertaining. Dottie walks in when Hawk’s done with the commercial, and he asks her how she’s been. She’s not in the mood for chitchat, just tells him to sign the bottom of the form she has in her hand. He’s about to sign, then asks how the family is. “Everyone’s fine,” she says nervously. Hawk’s still conversational, telling Dottie that he heard a record by her dad the other day. She asks if he sounded like a drunken fool, Hawk says he sounded instead like a great bass player. Bones bursts in then, upset because Hawk apparently didn’t play the song Bones wrote, and he demands to know what happened. Hawk asks Bones if he’s been drinking; Bones doesn’t answer, just says he had a bunch of friends, and this girl, Sally, from the roller rink. They were all at the drive-in, tuned into the show, waiting to hear Bones’ song. “Belly Button Rock?” Hawk asks. Oh, THAT can’t be a good sign. I wouldn’t play it, either, based on the name alone. Hawk says he listened to it, and it’s not so hot. Hey, apparently you CAN judge a song by its title! Bones asks if Hawk is saying he’s got no talent; Hawk’s saying he only plays what he likes. “Baloney sandwich, Hawk,” Bones says, then accuses Hawk of only playing what the record company pays him to play. Hawk reminds Bones that this isn’t true. Bones suggests that he get his dad to buy Hawk one of them new Skylarks, but Hawk insists that he’s not for sale, he never was, and then tells Dottie he’s sorry she had to see this. Bone protests that he told Sally he’d be on the radio. Hawk replies that he’d do anything to help Bones, but Bones knows how he is about the music. Bones relents, and Hawk assures him that Sally will still dig him, rock and roll star or not. Actually, if he’s writing songs with titles like “Belly Button Rock,” I’d guess she’d dig him more if she didn’t know that little tidbit. Bones’ eyes fall on the gun on Hawk’s desk, then tells him that he’d better lock up that gun, since he never knows who could get to it. Hawk asks if that’s a threat, and Bones responds by telling Hawk that he can’t keep stomping on people’s dreams and getting away with it, then storms out.
Jeffries asks whose gun it was, and Dottie says it was Hawk’s; he always kept it at work. “So many crazies out there,” she says, and Lilly thinks Bones may have been one of them.
Bones’ office. Vera reminds Bones of his meltdown with The Hawk, and Bones says he had dreams, and thought that The Hawk didn’t appreciate the next Elvis. Kat surmises that maybe Bones found Hawk’s gun and made him appreciate Bones, but Bones says he came back the next day, hat in hand, and Hawk forgave him. Vera realizes that Bones was at the station the night Hawk was killed, and Bones says he was DJing a party that night, so he left. “Plenty of witnesses,” he says. Bones goes on to say that Hawk’s career advice saved him from years of futility. “Your songs were that bad?” Vera asks. Bones freely admits that they were terrible, but he could still recognize talent in others, and built a career on that. Kat congratulates him, and Bones says he learned what music really was from Hawk, whom he proclaims one in a million. Kat asks Bones if anyone would want to hurt Hawk, and Bones says that a lot of people didn’t care for him, but one guy had more than a garden-variety beef with him.
Sock hop, where Hawk’s DJing and playing “Rock, Rock, Rock “ by Jimmy Cavallo & His House Rockers. The song ends, and Hawk immediately puts on a faster one, then urges the kids to “shake it.” They cheer in response, and he whips them into a frenzy, and they begin “shaking it.” An older guy watches the commotion, looking like he’s getting a headache, and approaches Hawk as he leaves the stage. The guy asks Hawk if his mama’s colored; she must be, since Hawk likes playing “this jumpity-squawk” so much. Hawk says it’s rock ‘n roll, then urges the guy to take the stick out of his tail and enjoy the beat. Hee. The guy grabs Hawk and asks if he recalls the name Carly Chester. He doesn’t, and the guy says she’s one of the girls he’s got out there dancing like a lovely woman. Hawk protests that those kids are alive, because they can feel the music. The guy argues that Carly’s sixteen, his little girl, and is in trouble: a month ago, she went to one of Hawk’s sock hops, says she met him at a party afterward. Hawk says he meets a lot of fans; Mr. Chester says Hawk did a lot more than “meet” his daughter. RUH-roh. Hawk’s afraid that Mr. Chester’s been misinformed; he asks if Hawk’s calling his little girl a liar. Hawk says he isn’t, but swears he’s not the father. Mr. Chester levels Hawk with some fifties-style threat if he doesn’t take responsibility, then walks away, point made. Hawk urges Bones to turn up the music; Bones does.
Bones says that teenyboppers always did love The Hawk, and Vera says it sounds like he did some lovin’ back. Hee. “The kind that gets you arrested,” Kat adds. “Or shot in the head with a .38,” Vera replies.
Squad room. Lilly asks Mr. Chester, whose name is Lloyd, if he recalls The Hawk. Lloyd says he never did care for that kind of music. Jeffries reminds Lloyd that Hawk got his daughter pregnant back in ’58, and Lloyd says he was wrong about that: Carly lied. “It was her moron boyfriend,” he says, “who’s now my moron son-in-law.” Heh. Lloyd says he thought Hawkins killed himself; Lilly tells him Hawk was murdered, and Lloyd’s not surprised to hear it: he saw Hawk in a neighborhood diner from time to time; two ships passing in the night. Lilly asks Lloyd if he wants to elaborate, and Lloyd says that, a few months before Hawk died, he took his family to breakfast before Sunday services, and Hawk was there. “Coming off of a late night?” Jeffries asks. “And getting into trouble with a young girl again,” Lloyd adds.
Diner, where we hear Gene Vincent’s “Be-Bop-A-Lula.” The Chesters sit, eating their breakfast, and Lloyd glowers in the direction of a gorgeous young woman, who slowly makes her way from the jukebox to where Hawk’s sitting. She greets him with a confusing opening line about racetracks, and Hawk tells her she looks familiar and asks if they’ve met. “On the radio,” she says, then slides into the booth, says she’s his number one fan, and tells him she can call her Jenny. Hawk says Jenny’s a nice name, and Jenny expresses her hope that she’s not bothering him. She’s not. Jenny asks Hawk to play “My Kind of Dream” for her tonight; he agrees, then asks her what her kind of dream is. “Gettin’ out of this town,” Jenny says, going anywhere. Hawk says Anywhere is a nice place; he’s been there several times. “It’s gotta be better than secretarial school,” Jenny replies. Hawk grins and asks her if it’s so bad, and Jenny proclaims it “a train right to Squaresville,” then tells him her dream is to be a singer. “Get in line,” Hawk says, “it’s a hard one.” “But it’s my dream,” Jenny replies. “People in line aren’t my problem.” Hey, that’s actually a really great attitude to have. Hawk proclaims Jenny feisty, and she says she was born that way. A guy with a pompadour comes up then and asks Jenny what she’s doing with Gramps; she proclaims it none of his business. Pompadour grabs at her, Hawk tells him to go take a walk and cool off. Pompadour tells Hawk that he should keep his nose out of it, “before I break it for you.” Hawk observes that Pompadour rode in here on a bicycle and says he’s quaking in his boots. Heh. Jenny giggles, quickly stops when Pompadour glares at her, then tells Pompadour, whose name is “Skiz,” that she’s staying, and orders him to scat. “Whoop-de-doo,” he says as he leaves.
Lilly asks if Lloyd knows Skiz’s real name: it’s Scott Stenkovic. Lloyd remembers because he made the front page of the paper a few years later. “Boy Scout of the Year?” Jeffries asks drily. “Armed robbery,” Lloyd corrects, explaining that Skiz shot a bank teller.
Squad room. Kat reminds Skiz that he had it out for Hawkins big-time, and Stillman tells him they know he’s not shy with a firearm. Skiz says that, since Hawk was a grown man going after a girl half his age, he deserved to get shot. Stillman asks Skiz where he was the night of the murder: bowling at the Thunderbird Lanes, he says. He and a hundred other kids heard that needle skip. Stillman tells Skiz that they’ll check that out. “Whoop-de-doo,” he replies. Kat asks Skiz if Jenny was his girlfriend. He says she was, for a couple of months, before she got all obsessed with Hawkins. “How obsessed?” Stillman asks, and Skiz says she kept calling Hawk on the radio and talking about him nonstop; real psycho stuff. Kat asks if they had an affair, and Skiz says she must have; why else would she care two pennies about that loser? Kat says it sounds like it was a one-way street, and Skiz explains that Jenny got crazier and crazier. One night, he says, they were in front of a real rock star, and as usual, all she cared about was The Hawk.
Sock hop. Hawk introduces Little Richard, and the crowd cheers. Little Richard begins singing “Ready Teddy ,” and the teenagers begin to shake it. All except for Jenny, who insists that Skiz help her get to The Hawk. Skiz tells her she’s acting nutso, and she protests that he doesn’t understand. Skiz calls Hawk an old coot and asks why she cares; she orders him not to talk about Hawk like that. “You’re on your own, Doll Face,” Skiz says, and is about to take off, but Jenny tells him that, if he does this, they can go park later. “Promise?” he asks, and Jenny asks if he’s helping her get to Hawk or not. Oh, he so is. “Whoop-de-doo,” Skiz replies, and leads her away.
As they approach backstage, Bones stops them; Skiz says they’ve gotta talk to The Hawk, and Bones retorts that he’s got a date with Jayne Mansfield. Jenny sees Hawk and calls to him. He ignores her, and she takes advantage of the fact that Bones is distracted by Skiz to run after him and demand to know why he stopped taking her calls. He claims to have been busy, then tells Jenny she shouldn’t be back there. Jenny says she just wants to talk, “about us.” Hawk says there is no “us,” and Jenny digs in her purse for a record, which she gives to Hawk and tells him she made it for him. He glances down at the record, and we see that it’s “Scarlet Rose.” She orders him to play it, telling him he’ll understand everything. She then tells him she’ll never forget him and departs.
Kat realizes that this was the same song Hawk was playing on the radio when he was killed, and Stillman asks Skiz if he knows where they can find Jenny. Skiz says he ran into her after he got out of jail, and she’s all married, Mrs. Jenny Money, and pretended like she didn’t know him. “That’s a surprise,” Kat remarks drily. Heh. Skiz asks if he can get out of there, and Stillman agrees. Stillman says it sounds like a Groupie Gone Wild, and Kat adds that, at seventeen, you think your first love is your last. Stillman says that every fan knew where Hawk broadcast, and wonders if Jenny found her way there. “And found Hawk’s gun,” Kat finishes.