Ponch and John were not supposed to work out for so many reasons. The first issue is the power dynamic. They met as adversaries in the barrio streets of Los Angeles. One, a halfback cowboy cop from Wyoming with a plodding intellect, the other a gang member, swarthy and lithe, all instinct and guts. To be indelicate about it- John Baker is a hoss of a white boy, and Frank Poncherello is brown and built like a Middleweight champion. The whole concept is of course a little racist, because this was the late 1970s and 80s. Things were only a little racist back then.
There is an obvious problem with Frank’s last name too, if you are familiar with Hispanic linguistics. The role was originally written as an archetype for a different fiery, swarthy people of the Mediterranean region. Erik Estrada, already a successful actor on the big and small screens, convinced the producers to let Frank Poncherello be Hispanic. The show is set in southern California, so they hint towards Mexican, but never say it. Erik is actually Puerto Rican. It seems in addition to Erik being a pioneer for his culture, he also had a knack for narrative integrity and and character development. Despite the win, the name remained staunchly not Hispanic. The other option requires we accept that Frank Poncherello, a decorated rapscallion of a highway patrolman, a man who put his life on the line to rescue the general public from: Overturned cars on fire (dozens that I personally witnessed) chlorine gas, cars trapped underwater (several), one time bomb, one malfunctioning robot with a defective isotope leak, an unscrupulous Karate Master (whipped that guy twice then made him a friend), well you understand. We are to accept that behind all that confidence and strength, he let’s a bunch of gringos mispronounce his name. Say it together with me- PoncharEYo. The elle pronounced as the consonant version of the English letter Y.
Zealotry requires suspension of belief. There are 139 episodes. I have nine to go.
Larry Wilcox also held a strong hand going into the audition. He lacked the credits and versatility of Erik, but he was a beloved people’s champion for his role as Dale Mitchell. You don’t remember Dale, but you know his dog, Lassie. Riding the coattails of his famous co-star Larry Wilcox beat out 299 other potential John Bakers for the role. This theme played out in their characters, as John had to work for everything and Ponch just skated along, sometimes literally on skates. Here comes a spoiler alert. You had 42 years to watch it so I don’t feel sorry for you. Right up until John Baker left to go home to help his dad run the ranch in Wyoming, John did most of the paperwork. Ponch bragged about it too, so what could you reasonably expect John to do with that kind of disrespect? Also, was Frank dyslexic or just lazy?
All I can tell you is now that John is gone and the vapid, airbag Nelson brothers are rolling with Ponch, I still do not see him click that ballpoint pen very often. Draw your own conclusions.
Between the actors and their fictional counterparts, this beautiful transformation occurred. Not so much life imitating art, or art imitating life, but life and art passing along a bucolic country highway and sharing a nod and a friendly wave. I will explain. Before CHiPs, Erik was a typical struggling actor. He worked as a waiter, and did local theater. Larry Wilcox, before acting, was a decorated Marine Staff Sergeant. Larry fought in the Tet Offensive and served 13 months of active combat. Frank might have taken John in a fist fight, but Larry would kill Erik in seconds in real life. That’s not the issue though. Here is where it gets interesting. Larry served his country, became an actor, then held a long career in the industry as an executive producer. Erik Estrada did the exact opposite. He went from the glitz and glitter of Hollywood to a humble life of service as an undercover investigator of crimes against children. That’s right. Erik Estrada became a real cop, and Larry Wilcox became a real Hollywood bigshot.
there’s something about that I just love. It sounds like a Jonathan Franzen novel.
I don’t want to overwhelm you, so I’m going to end with this brief explanation for context. One evening in early November, seeking some light disassociation, I lucked into Go-Kart Terror, Season 4, episode 1 of CHiPs, a fictionalized account of the life of some motorcycle cops in Los Angles, CA. By the time they locked up Sonny Bono for stealing furniture, I was hooked.
Until next time- stay safe out there.
*bicycle-related*
I showed up for the ride today, but had a catastrophic flat so I did this instead.
Juancho
