L.A. Noir: The Struggle for the Soul of America's Most Seductive City

Jack Webb had grown up poor, in the Bunker Hill neighborhood of Los Angeles. Early on he developed a passion for jazz and the cinema. During the war, Webb worked as a clerk for the U.S. Army Air Force in Del Rio, Texas (though later press accounts made him a B-26 crew member). Afterward, he married a young singer/actress he’d met at a jazz club before the war, Julie London—the Julie London. (During the war, London was a popular pinup girl. None of Webb’s comrades believed that the gangly, intense twenty-two-year-old knew her—until he produced a letter.) In 1946, Webb moved to San Francisco and landed a job as a disk jockey at a local ABC-affiliated radio station, KGO. There Webb and his writing partner, Richard Breen, created Pat Novak for Hire. The sensitive yet cynical PI and his extraordinarily kitschy dialogue quickly attracted a loyal following. However, Webb’s big break came in 1948, when a Hollywood casting director heard one of Webb’s “private-eye plays” and offered him a part in a new Eagle-Lion film, He Walked by Night (1948).

Eagle-Lion was a little studio with dreams of becoming the next Warner Bros. He Walked by Night was inspired by the recent murder of a California Highway patrolman. The film told the story of the LAPD’s efforts to catch the burglar-turned-cop-killer; its highlight was an extended, real-time chase through the streets (and sewers) of Los Angeles. Webb’s role was a minor one: He played the part of a technician in the crime investigation lab (in real life, Lt. Lee Jones). However, the movie shaped his career in two critical ways. The first influence was stylistic. He Walked by Night began with an opening disclaimer: “The record is set down here factually—as it happened. Only the names are changed—to protect the innocent.” Its opening shot was an aerial pan of the city, with a dramatic voice-over: “This is Los Angeles. Our Lady the Queen of the Angels, as the Spanish named her. The fastest growing city in the nation …” The film also had a decidedly documentary flavor. It presented its story as one “taken from the files of the detective division.” All of these elements would later appear in Jack Webb’s most famous creation. The second influence was LAPD Det. Sgt. Marty Wynn, whom Webb met on the set.

Wynn had been provided by the LAPD as a technical advisor to the producers (one of whom, ironically, was Johnny Roselli, the Chicago Outfit’s liaison to Hollywood, who had recently been released from the federal penitentiary after a prison sentence was mysteriously commuted). Although Wynn was supposed to instruct the director in the fine points of police procedure, once the filming got under way, he didn’t have much to do. Neither did Jack Webb. As a result, both men spent a lot of time in the commissary. There the two fell to talking. When Wynn found out that Webb was a radio actor who played the part of a private eye, he took to teasing him about the silliness of radio programs like Pat Novak.

“It makes every cop in the country laugh when they hear this nonsense on the radio,” Wynn told Webb. “Why doesn’t somebody show how detectives really break a crime?”

Wynn told Webb that he ought to do it right.

“I can arrange for you to have access to cases in the police files,” he told the actor. “Maybe you could do something with them.”

“I doubt it, Marty,” Webb responded, noting that “the fiction shows have such high ratings.” But the idea stuck with Webb. In fact, he had recently started sketching out another show about a lonely PI, tentatively titled Joe Friday, Room Five. What if Friday became a police officer instead? The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Several weeks later, Webb called Wynn and told him that he was thinking about starting a new kind of police drama, one that portrayed police work as it really was. Wynn was pleased and, true to his word, arranged for Webb to start spending some time with Wynn and his partner, Vance Brasher.

Webb’s hunger for details and verisimilitude was voracious. “How do you frisk a suspect?” “How do you kick in a door?” “How do you clean your gun?” Jack Webb was a question a minute. He was soon spending all his free time at police department headquarters in City Hall. He got permission to start taking classes at the police academy. He was learning what it meant to be a detective.

Now he needed a name. The Cop was quickly dismissed as disrespectful. The Sergeant was too military. One day during a brainstorming session, writer Herb Ellis and Webb were talking about an earlier radio program, Calling All Cars, when Ellis asked Webb, “What do they call it when cops go all out to catch a crook?”

“They put out a dragnet,” Webb responded.

That was it. “Dragnet.” Now Webb had to find a network that would broadcast his show.