Sherlock Holmes casts such a large shadow over the world of fictional crime fighting that one can only wonder how many of the other great detectives of the past century will be similarly remembered by future generations.
Some will, many won’t. But tucked in there alongside the Poirots, Marples, Maigrets, Morses and Marlowes of the fictional world is a crumpled little LA homicide lieutenant going by the name of Columbo. He may be slight of stature, but there’s no doubt that he’s earned his place at the top table with the most luminous legends of his profession.
Despite being a very different character, and harking from an entirely different time and space, Columbo may be the closest to Holmes of all their peers in terms of mental dexterity. But how much do these men really have in common when making a detailed comparison? Well, despite one being an upper-crust, cynical and occasionally drug-dependent Victorian-era Brit, and the other being from humble Italian-American stock, a grafter who has worked harder than others to get ahead, there is much to connect the two detectives – and those similarities expand way beyond a mutual love of tobacco.
I have long contemplated penning a comparative essay on the two detectives but never quite found the time or headspace to move beyond note taking and drafting. Thankfully, long-time blog reader and occasional contributor Glenn Stewart has done the hard yards, so I don’t have to! Without further ado let’s don our smoking jackets, curl up by the fireside and light up our briar pipes as we consider the similarities and contrasts between Lieutenant Columbo and Sherlock Holmes…
CRIME PAYS because crime sells – in magazines and books, movies and television, true crime and fictional. From Marlowe to Marple, Spade to Spenser, Chan to Charles, Warshawski to Wolfe, Hammer to the Hardy Boys, Friday to Fletcher, the list of popular crime-busters and their crime-solving methods is a long and distinguished one.
In this famous lineage, Columbo and Sherlock Holmes each belong in the class for cerebral investigators – keen intellects using incisive observational skills to solve the crimes likely to go unsolved by conventional officers. While Columbo and Holmes are not the only “thinking man’s detectives”, their cultural prominence and worldwide fame set them apart from the now-stodgy Ellery Queens of the literary sleuthing set. Writer/producer Stephen Moffat certainly recognized this intersection of intellects when he reimagined the modern-day Sherlock with Benedict Cumberbatch while at the same time visualizing his own, now dormant, take on a new Columbo series.
No less an authority than Peter Falk himself has invoked the name of Sherlock Holmes in describing his eponymous show and character. What makes Columbo and Sherlock stand out among the detecting crowd?
Since 1971, over 25 countries have run episodes of Columbo, and the original has remained enormously and consistently popular in countries like Japan, France, Iran and Israel. With its upper-crust killers, it was one of the few 70s American television shows to get play in Communist countries, thanks to its perceived anti-wealth, anti-capitalist spin. In 1975, Emperor Hirohito visited the U.S. and asked to meet “Columbo”. Peter Falk taped a spot for the Romanian government to quell potential riots after the show stopped production in 1978, officials fearing import quotas would be blamed.
Guinness World Records lists Sherlock Holmes as the most portrayed literary human character in film and television history; even through the 1990s, there had been over 25,000 stage adaptations, films, television productions and publications featuring the detective. For all of Columbo’s popularity, it was Arthur Conan Doyle’s creation of Holmes that pretty much invented the modern practice of fandom.
The unprecedented outcry from readers of The Strand magazine in December 1893, when Conan Doyle wrote Holmes into a plunge from Reichenbach Falls, forced the author to resurrect the character years later (lucky for Conan Doyle, nobody had viewed an actual Holmes corpse). According to the BBC, “The public reaction to the death was unlike anything previously seen for fictional events. More than 20,000 Strand readers cancelled their subscriptions, outraged by Holmes’ premature demise. The magazine barely survived.”
Finding common ground
THE QUALITIES that make Columbo so appealing are easy for us to recall. The lieutenant is unassuming, unimposing, warm, charming, respectful, and deferential. He lulls his opponent into a false sense of security, rarely looking to pose an intellectual or physical threat to the killer. He is a humble, relatable, schleppy everyman, with numerous foibles and shortcomings. He has unhealthy cigar habits, is forgetful and distracted, gets queasy on planes and boats, drives a beat-up car, and is relentlessly middle-class in tastes and values. He is us.
Columbo appears to be out of his element when pursuing the rich, coddled and famous killers who populate the fancy neighborhoods and private communities of Los Angeles. While he looks and acts out-of-place, his persistence in the face of wealth and power results in justice prevailing despite the many advantages afforded his antagonists.
Unlike Columbo, Sherlock Holmes is much more comfortable in the orbit of affluent Brits, as well as the assorted royalty who occasionally pop up in his adventures. Hobnobbing with higher-ups isn’t limited to London, as Holmes encounters others of Europe’s pampered and privileged. But Holmes also takes many a case from what his chronicler Dr. Watson calls “the poor folk”, and, like Columbo, he treats them with respect and solace – at least, as long as their problems are a worthy challenge. Holmes’ targets are often upper-crust, well-regarded, or protected by their status. This is not to the exclusion of other villains, but Holmes favors no class, as long as his own sense of justice is met in the end.
Ah, there’s a tricky phrase – “His own sense of justice”. Because Holmes is a private for-hire investigator, and Columbo is a public-sector police detective, their justice endgames may not always be the same. Columbo only once let a killer off the hook, but the fates were going to be cruel to the terminally ill and brain-diseased Grace Wheeler anyway.
Holmes has more, shall we say, flexibility in how he dispenses justice. Sherlock is not above performing a little Breaking & Entering to get at the truth, particularly in cases like The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans. In The Five Orange Pips, he explicitly announces, “I shall be my own police.” And in several exploits, Holmes concludes by waving off the perpetrator from facing Scotland Yard at all, after concluding that the crime was justified in avenging a heinous wrong. The backstories for such rationalizations usually involve noble causes, odious blackmail, doomed romances, hidden secrets or damning betrayals (The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, The Boscombe Valley Mystery).
Apart from being intelligent and observant detectives, Columbo and Holmes’ commonalities – at least on the surface – seem almost nil. The late mystery writer B.K. Stevens noted as much in her piece “Is Columbo America’s Sherlock?”. Holmes has imposing, aristocratic bearing and sharp dress (dig that deerstalker cap), an air of superiority and pretentiousness, and is often ill-mannered to those he can’t respect. All qualities which, of course, are very un-Columbo-like. She quotes Peter Falk: “Columbo is an ass-backwards Sherlock Holmes. Holmes had a long neck, Columbo has no neck; Holmes smoked a pipe, Columbo chews up six cigars a day…”
As Falk well knew, Columbo is also an everyman. Holmes, decidedly, is not. Columbo’s humane and kindly nature is as natural and lived-in as his raincoat, plain for all to see. To address this, Holmes requires what Columbo does not – a partner. Dr. Watson is not exactly a sidekick, but his presence serves as a foil for the London sleuth. More importantly, his friendship with Holmes and his narration of their adventures humanizes a character who would otherwise be stiff, cold, and unrelatable.
Columbo was never an action series, and the Lieutenant’s physical skills seem to be limited to falling down a hillside (The Greenhouse Jungle) and falling from a tree (Forgotten Lady). By contrast, Sherlock Holmes’ physical abilities are a complement to his mental acuity. He is an expert at singlestick, a martial art using a wooden stick as a weapon. He has swordsman skills, training as a boxer, strength and athleticism, is adept with a pistol, and a master of disguises (Columbo going Undercover notwithstanding).
Their presence at investigations were a contrast, as Falk himself noted in an interview with Columbo chronicler Mark Dawidziak. “I remember being very impressed by Sherlock Holmes. He’d show up, and everybody would turn to him for the answer. I thought it was important in Ransom For a Dead Man that no one turn to me for anything. I was just a local. I wanted to be ignored….Nobody wanted to know this guy’s opinion. There’s a lack of pretension.”
Their methods of case-solving differed. There is a very real psychological foundation for how Columbo parries with the killer as he pokes and prods to get the villain to incriminate himself. The science of proxemics examines how personal privacy invasions – Columbo’s specialty – are used to unsettle a target; he expertly feeds the killer’s superiority complex and projects his own inferiority; he’ll lull the baddie into a false sense of security before closing in for the kill. Psychology is applied to the enemy.
Holmes’ approach to case-cracking is usually much more direct – the psychology is in how Holmes thinks and uses observation to solve the puzzle, and not necessarily in his interplay with the suspects (his tussle with arch-nemesis Professor Moriarty being one notable exception). One of his more recognized quotes, from The Sign of Four, summarizes his investigative style: “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”
Holmes’ natural intelligence is clearly in his DNA, since his brother Mycroft is even smarter, though lazier. But Holmes diligently learns about anything that could give him a crime-solving edge. Some of his specialized areas of expertise include code-breaking, tobaccos, latent bicycle prints, gunpowder residue, poisons, geology, tattoos, music composition, and chemistry. He continually hones his reasoning skills with his obsessive attention to detail. (“I can never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves,” he tells Dr. Watson, “the suggestiveness of thumb nails, or the great issues that may hang from a bootlace.”)
Columbo also has natural intelligence, as noted by both psychologist killer Dr. Flemming and Sigma Society brainiac Oliver Brandt. But Columbo’s work ethic had a bit of a different nose-to-the-grindstone focus than Sherlock’s. In The Bye-Bye Sky High IQ Murder Case, he tells Brandt, “In school, there were lots of smarter kids. And when I first joined the force, sir, they had some very clever people there… But I figured, if I worked harder than they did, put in more time, read the books, kept my eyes open, maybe I could make it happen. And I did.” Holmes worked smarter, but Columbo worked harder.
Columbo and Holmes each share an innate curiosity about their surroundings. Through the course of the 70s, Columbo learns about wine, food delicacies, advertising, horticulture, art, and more, thanks to the wisdom conferred by particular killers-of-the month. Holmes may appear to know just about everything under the sun, but even for him, the search for knowledge continued. “Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons, with the greatest for the last.” (The Adventure of the Red Circle)
Do great minds really think alike? Columbo and Holmes certainly had parallel approaches in their reasoning. Conan Doyle took Holmes’ powers of observation to such an extreme that he could reliably spit out an instant biography of someone he just met simply by discerning the arcane trivialities of their outward appearance. Columbo can’t do that. However, Doyle’s real-life model for the Holmes character, forensic surgeon John Bell, said that any diagnosis required one to: 1) carefully observe, 2) astutely deduce, and 3) confirm with evidence. This develops “inclusive thinking”, in which “everything matters, and you can glean information from anything.” Columbo would no doubt agree.
The two each have a healthy degree of scepticism when they approach a case. They have open minds. They recognize vital facts, even if they do not immediately piece together their significance. For Columbo, this would bug him incessantly until he could tie up the “loose ends”. For Holmes, this was the proverbial “three-pipe problem” that required complete isolation while he sorted through the possibilities. In the books, it was in Holmes’ “brain attic” where he developed his theories; in Moffat’s modern Sherlock updating, this was Holmes’ “mind palace” where he retrieved relevant facts.
For both detectives, the devil is in the details. Columbo is bothered by how the shoelaces are tied, the weight of the luggage, the missing clock chime, the unscuffed bedroom slippers, the turned-off light in the murder room. For Holmes, it might be the useless bell rope, the ventilator shaft that doesn’t ventilate, or the bed clamped to the floor (The Adventure of the Speckled Band). Columbo would surely concur with Sherlock when the Great Detective says in A Case of Identity, “It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”
Events that may be seemingly self-evident – the apparent suicides of Etude in Black and Forgotten Lady, for example – are anything but to Columbo. Holmes has a thought to cover that, too: “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.” (The Boscombe Valley Mystery)
It’s the details that drive the deductions. As British philosopher John Gray explains, “The type of reasoning Holmes uses – sometimes called abductive reasoning – can’t offer certainty or any precise assessment of probability, only the best available account of events… Holmes notices things other people don’t, and then, using a mental agility that involves creative imagination… comes up with hypotheses he tests one by one… It’s not cold logic but a clairvoyant eye for detail that enables him to solve his cases. Holmes has the knack of knowing where to look, asking the right questions and crafting theories to account for what he has found.”
Columbo has a similar way of thinking, which might be best summarized with a statistical model that social science dubs “Posterior Predictive Checks”. This is the comparison between what a model predicts would happen in a particular situation and the actual observed data, which will tell if the model is inadequate to describe the data. “The goal… is to drive intuitions about the qualitative manner in which the model succeeds or fails, and about what sort of novel model formulation might better capture the trends in the data.”
Of course, Columbo would never describe it quite that way. He’ll observe a scene, or listen to a killer’s story, and, using the available facts, gut-check how well that story produces the ending – the death that is being investigated. If a particular explanation is not very good at producing the ending, Columbo will look for other stories that are better.
Unknowable natures
EARLIER, I noted Peter Falk’s appreciation for Sherlock Holmes’ command of respect whenever he entered a crime scene. You can be sure that’s just how Holmes wanted it, for his inflated ego often demanded that he be the center of attention, and he would find dramatic ways to display consummate showmanship as he revealed his genius at solving the mystery. This, after stubbornly refusing to divulge the case’s key clues to Watson, and therefore us.
Often, it was in the appearance of a missing object, as in The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, and The Naval Treaty (playfully stashed under a breakfast dish cover). Or, it could be a disguise that he doffs to theatrically reveal himself to Watson and the reader (The Adventure of the Empty House), or faking his own impending demise from a deadly contagious disease (The Adventure of the Dying Detective).
Needless to say, Columbo’s ego is hardly as outsized as Holmes’. As Falk knew, Columbo’s effectiveness came from appearing quite ineffective, all the better to trap the killers into revealing a bit too much. Along the way, Columbo lays out the clues clearly and usually explicitly. Then, when the gotcha came at episode’s end, much of the drama relied on the killer’s gobsmacked guilty reaction (looking at you, Dale Kingston and Paul Hanlon), and only rarely from Columbo himself. Now You See Him and A Matter of Honor would be exceptions, and I would prefer not to consider the toy guns that say “BANG” and circus ringmaster getups of New Columbo.
Arthur Conan Doyle’s Holmes stories totaled 659,928 words. Columbo’s screen time was over 96 hours (excluding pesky commercials). But even with that volume of output, and for all that we know about each detectives’ outward characteristics and character, how often have we seen them express real feelings and genuine emotion?
We know that Columbo is kind and caring, as the flustered and newly widowed Joanna Ferris would attest in Murder By The Book (Holmes never whipped up an omelet for Watson). We see that Columbo approaches the murder’s supporting characters with different degrees of sentiment than he does the killer – perhaps with compassion (Mrs. Ferris; Mrs. Norris in Double Exposure), a hard edge (low-rent detective Dobbs, The Most Crucial Game), or empathy (Artie Jessup, A Friend in Deed).
But we are also wise to suspect that at least some of what Columbo shows everyone could be phony artifice, whether it’s the forgetfulness, bumbling persona or his many personal asides (per Leslie Williams, his “homey anecdotes about the family”). The moments of real, genuine feeling – the true Inner Columbo – are usually only glimpsed in quick spurts of emotion, such as his anger toward contemptable snakes like Dr. Mayfield or Milo Janus, or his quiet disdain of Paul Gerard. Oh, and he loves his Dog.
As little as we may truly know about Columbo, though, Sherlock Holmes is even more emotionally distant to us. Dr. Watson has spent countless hours in his company and chronicling his exploits, and the moments of true emotion he has reported are rare indeed. In The Adventure of the Six Napoleons, Holmes is “more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him”, following admiration of one of his perpetual police inferiors, Inspector Lestrade.
And in The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot, Holmes recklessly subjects he and Watson to an almost-deadly “unjustifiable experiment even for one’s self, and doubly so for a friend.” The ever-suffering and put-upon good doctor notes that he “had never seen so much of Holmes’ heart before.” The moment is, of course, fleeting. “He relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical vein which was his habitual attitude…”
Comparing legacies
SHERLOCK HOLMES has been at this detecting thing for 135 years, Columbo for 62 (since Enough Rope aired in 1960). What might the future hold for them and their legacies? For Columbo fans, there’s DVD collections, retro-TV marathons, and the Columbophile Blog. What more do we need? Regrettably, I’d say that we need Columbo to develop the superpower that fuels Sherlock Holmes and keeps him relevant across generations – the power of regeneration.
The first Holmes novel, A Study in Scarlet, was published in 1887, and since then the character has travelled in and out of the public domain in the U.K. and the U.S. A property in public domain may be used by anyone without restrictions. Otherwise, a property’s copyright protects it from being used by others without permission and/or compensation. Without detailing the copyright intricacies here, the character of Sherlock Holmes has been in the public domain for decades (with a handful of Doyle short stories being exceptions) and of free use for anyone wishing to adapt it. Thus, Stephen Moffat’s Sherlock and the American TV series Elementary.
On the other hand, the rights to the “Columbo” character have remained in dispute for years, keeping any development of another Columbo series in limbo. Many fans are pleased by this, not wanting to see a bungled sequel, reboot, or reimagining that they believe would sully the good Lieutenant’s name and reputation. To this I would say, be careful what you wish for.
In the legacy department, Holmes already has a clear advantage, originating as a written work. Although the illustrations of Sidney Paget gave readers an early visualization of the “classic” Holmes look, readers’ freedom of imagination has allowed many actors to essay the role in their own style through the years. Personally, Basil Rathbone, Jeremy Brett, and Benedict Cumberbatch have all been favorites (and I really like Robert Downey Jr – as Ironman). New actors are engaged, new plots are concocted, new technologies are applied. In this way, new generations of Sherlock Holmes fans have been allowed to spawn and spread the legacy.
Not so with Columbo. And for many, it’s Peter Falk and nobody else. An advantage to being a written work is that Sherlock Holmes doesn’t age (noted exceptions being a handful of unsuccessful stories from his retired “beekeeper era”). A revolving door of actors keeps the character fresh and ageless. I would argue that we have already seen what happens when we don’t allow anyone else to be “Columbo” – and unfortunately, it’s called New Columbo. Without wishing to provoke fans of the more recent incarnation, I would simply say that for Classic Columbo devotees, it is sometimes painful to watch Peter Falk displaying the familiar effects of time on this earth as older Columbo works a case.
Without regeneration of the character, years from now Peter Falk-as-Columbo will be trapped in amber, adored by a certain generation of fans (myself included), but in perpetual stasis without fresh interpretations. If the same had been allowed to happen to Basil Rathbone in 1946, would the legacy of Sherlock Holmes be what it is today?
The Reboot-Or-Not argument is a familiar one to Columbophile Blog readers. CP quotes Mark Dawidziak on the subject: “Nothing’s ever going to touch Peter’s performance, but if a character is truly a great character, then it should be able to be played and reinterpreted by other actors,” he said. “It all comes down to how it’s done. I think the Columbo character is strong enough and vibrant enough to be brought back… If Hamlet’s a great character and he can be interpreted and reinterpreted by many different actors, why can’t Columbo? If Sherlock Holmes can be played by a lot of different actors, why can’t Columbo? And I think Peter might be one of the first to say that, because he was an actor himself.”
Personally, I applaud Columbophile contributor and playwright Richard Weill’s efforts to revisit the character in 1957 New York City. A current-day reboot would have to make some era-driven changes in the character – for instance, having Columbo be significantly ignorant of technology and take a “Gee whiz, look at what that thing can do” attitude would ring false in the 2020s.
A Columbo reboot might also provide a necessary jump-start to the overall legacy of the Thinking Detective, a legacy that I fear is in decline, or at least in remission. Monk carried this torch for several years but leaned way too far into middling comedy for me to be fully on board. Kenneth Branagh delivers all-star Hercule Poirot remakes, and the movie Knives Out proved a smart and popular restyling of the traditional Agatha Christie drawing-room murder mystery. More of those are coming to Netflix from director Rian Johnson and star Daniel Craig. And Johnson’s Poker Face, starring Natasha Lyonne as the prime crime solver, is in production for the Peacock network.
Better still would be a new literary cerebral detective – one defined by brains and not clever banter, bullets, or body blows – whose continuing stories could penetrate our action-driven popular culture to reach mass-consciousness. Readers and mystery aficionados who have a favorite intellectual investigator in mind should contribute to the comments below pronto. Finding a popular Thinking Detective today would be a feat worthy of the talents of both Columbo and Sherlock Holmes.
Glenn Stewart spent 25 years in the music radio business across the United States specializing in classic rock. For the past 15 years he has been working in History, English, Education Assessment, and writing Social Studies curriculum for the juvenile justice system. He has also taught “Issues In Media Industries” as adjunct faculty at a New England university. His favorite pre-1980 TV rewatchables are Columbo, Mission: Impossible, Batman, The Prisoner, and The Twilight Zone.
Wasn’t that marvellous? I doff my deerstalker to Glenn for his Reichenbach Falls-height deep-dive into this fascinating topic. Even more remarkably, Glenn knocked this article together as he convalesces from heart surgery – a fine effort, for which I’m sure we all applaud him.
Share your views on the Holmes vs Columbo debate in the comments section below. I’ve added some thoughts of mine already to kick-start the conversations. I do hope you’ll join me…
Until next time, farewell.
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Coda: As of Jan 1, 2023, copyrights for the last 10 Sherlock Holmes short stories (“The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes”) expire, and all of Conan Doyle’s Holmes works become public domain. Once a work enters the public domain it can legally be shared, performed, reused, repurposed or sampled without permission or cost.
Although these final Holmes stories are regarded by purists as the lesser of all the Doyle stories by a very wide margin, the Doyle estate was using them to muck up the efforts of anybody attempting to create any Holmes work. The estate argued that those final stories provided some nuance and growth to Holmes and Watson, and as such, were part of the overall characters’ personas.
The estate filed a lawsuit against Netflix for appropriating the Sherlock Holmes character in “Enola Holmes”, giving him emotions that Doyle’s lawyers argued didn’t appear until those final 10 Case Book stories. If that sounds like a ridiculously spurious claim, you’d be correct, and the suit got thrown out. Hence, Henry Cavill as Holmes (I have yet to sample this most recent incarnation, as the idea of a heretofore unknown teenage sister of Sherlock and Mycroft gives off a distinct “Mrs. Columbo” vibe).
Great article and a fantastic read of two amazing characters. My gut reaction is that no one can replace Peter Falk, but you swayed me on your point that I don’t want Columbo only to live in the hearts of a certain generation.
The only reason I am here is because of New Columbo. My Mom loved the show in its first run and when they started airing them again and I was old enough to watch in the early 2000s, I saw my first Columbo and was intrigued. It led me to seeking out the originals. I can only hope for a reboot or reinterpretation to prompt newer generations to these gifts!
Rebecca, thank you! My powers of persuasion are often quite limited (my campaign to prove to the world that Columbo’s first name really and truly is Frank feels like a Don Quixote windmill-tilting quest), so I appreciate the acknowledgement. Unfortunately, we now have to sway the parties of the tug-of-war for the “Columbo” rights to kumbaya, and I fear that may be beyond hope. But, we can always dream.
A magnificent article altogether, once again, enriching the most valuable online resource on Columbo.
When going through it, I couldn’t help thinking about another fictional character whose traits, as inimitably brought to life by its interpreter, made me draw some parallels with both Sherlock and Columbo: Robert Goren as played by Vincent D’Onofrio in “Law & Order: Criminal Intent”.
Hugo, thanks for the kind words! It was a little late in the editing process when I thought about shoehorning in a mention of Goren, magnificently overacted by D’Onofrio (and I love that).
The Goren character is basically an unsubtle mash-up of Holmes and Columbo. Holmes, because Goren has an enormous (some would say ludicrous) “brain attic” filled with arcane trivialities and specialized knowledge that he can instantly apply to the case-of-the-week; Columbo, because he’s constantly invading personal spaces in and out of the interrogation room and generally aiming to rattle suspects into giveaway blunders.
In the Columboverse, there are rarely any lawyers around to tell their killer clients to just shut the fudge up. In the Gorenverse, there’s always plenty of lawyers around, they just give up and meekly allow their client to confess to the crime.
You’re very welcome, dear Glenn. A truly superb and enlightening essay.
As for Robert Goren, I would add that his perceptive skills when examining a crime scene are a common feature to Holmes and Columbo. The way he’s able to pick up relevant details is directly lifted from the older sleuths.
Regarding the “brain attic” issue, I’d say Goren strikes a middle-ground as, in some episodes, it becomes clear his knowledge comes from recent albeit thorough research and not, necessarily, from a keen interest in the subject matter.
A very good article, congrats and thanks!
For the first part of it, we have to remember that Hungary also has a quite huge fanbase, different TV channels continuously keep the Lieutenant on air, Budapest has a public statue of Him and Dog, etc.
https://columbophile.com/2016/07/10/why-is-there-a-columbo-statue-in-budapest/
Is that Nicol Williamson in the London photo beside Peter Falk?
Yes. Williamson played Holmes in the film version of the Nicholas Meyer novel “The Seven-Per-Cent Solution.”
Although really smarty-pants Thinking Detectives modelled after Holmes and Columbo are not currently in literary prominence, crime fiction itself is having a mini-resurgence, thanks to a relatively recent subgenre known as “cozy mysteries”. These are amateur sleuths, often female, who solve community murders and assorted crimes in tightly-knit small towns, where the characters have strong interpersonal connections. Their crime-solving is relatively sanitized, (no sex or foul language), with the killings happening off-screen (or off-page). If much of this sounds vaguely familiar, that’s because these stories are inspired by the show co-created by “Columbo” scribe Peter Fischer, “Murder, She Wrote” (which I once described somewhere in this blog as the “McDonald’s of Mysteries”). A detailed summary of the genre was published just hours before my Sherlock piece hit the blog and is worth a read. (The Cozy “Maltese Falcon”: How “Murder, She Wrote” Reinvented Mysteries Forever | Salon.com)
Whether in books or on TV, the “cozies” often have a thematic focus based on the profession or hobby of the detecting amateur – the antiquer of “Garage Sale Mysteries”, the barista owner in “Coffeeshop Mysteries”, the “Flower Shop Mystery” florist and “Murder She Baked” chef, with others including a TV morning show cooking host, a home renovator ( the “Fixer Upper” series), crimes of gardening (Britain’s “Rosemary and Thyme”), the arts, teashops, libraries, and the action-packed crime-busting we always associate with the world of editing crossword puzzles.
Perhaps one of these sleuths is the Columbo of Cuisine, or the Sherlock of Shingles, but I do have my doubts.
Speaking of these, I’ve really enjoyed the first two detective novels by Richard Osman about four pensioners solving crimes in the Thursday Murder Club series. It’s about crime but also about old age, about having turned into someone other than you used to be, and the mysteries are excellent.
Holmes has a number of talents and enthusiasms – musician, amateur boxer, make-up artist, actor. At the same time, Watson tells us of incredible gaps in his knowledge and interests – which is presumably a deliberate result of the Holmes/Conan-Doyle “attic theory” of the brain: ie, the human brain can only effectively store so much stuff – so you should deliberately avoid “filling up with nonsense”. Growing up in the sixties, I can remember we were told to avoid manipulative soap operas partly for this reason (although honest detective and adventure stuff was deemed okay). I think I recently saw some modern scientific evidence for the Conan Doyle attic theory (?)
Columbo seems to have no other interests – apart possibly from popular sports (The most Crucial Game). And then there was that golf swing in Death Lends a Hand. Of course, in real life, Peter Falk was vey much the polymath – two degrees, chess aficionado, accomplished artist.
Through his cases and the killers, it appears that Columbo had plenty of curiosity in a wide variety of topics (I don’t believe that was all the product of Columbo fakery). But what Columbo didn’t have was Holmes’ expertise.
I suspect that Columbo’s perceived plebian interests (his low-brow taste in art, ignorance about plants, amateurish photography, etc) led to a decision by new producer Richard Alan Simmons to have Columbo suddenly become a knowledgeable connoisseur of food delicacies in “Murder Under Glass”. It’s consistent with Simmons’ desire for Columbo to have a stronger personality – but it was totally out of character for Columbo not to project inferiority against the killer.
I’d frame this point slightly differently. Columbo was dedicated to his job. If he perceived that learning about wine or art or photography would help him do his job better, then he dove headfirst into these subjects. It was less independent curiosity, in my view, and much more a means to an end: solving the case. He needed to level the playing field again his more accomplished adversaries, and had a remarkable ability to learn what he needed to learn quickly and efficiently. The scene in “Any Old Port in a Storm” where Columbo asks the wine expert “to teach me everything you know” — or at least “what can you do in a hour and a half” — is a great example of his targeted and result-oriented curiosity.
Peter Falk, in his 1999 interview with James Lipton, talked about Columbo hiding his knowledge in order to maintain the modest, unassuming image he always tried to project. Falk attributed Columbo’s vast extended family to his need to attribute all he knew on a subject to someone else (and would lose track of all the relatives he invoked for this purpose). So it was always: “my brother-in-law told me” this or that, never “I know” it from my own reading or experience.
Thank you for the wonderful article. My son (a GenZ fan of Columbo) and I have discussed the differences between Columbo and Holmes on more than one occasion. Clearly, both characters have an almost preternatural power of observation. But that’s where the similarity ends, in my opinion.
Holmes solves cases using the brute force of his remarkable reason and encyclopedic knowledge. It’s a binary world for him (as embodied in his famous phrase about eliminating the impossible).
In contrast, Columbo employs his deep understanding of human behavior, which arises out of his empathy for people, including (even especially) the perpetrators of the murder. He focuses on gestures and hints and quirks exhibited by the suspects. He often figures out who committed the crime at the very beginning of the case by taking note of some minor incongruous action. In Murder by the Book, Ken Franklin (played by the inimitable Jack Cassidy) opened his mail after planting the body of his partner on his lawn (supposedly killed by mobsters). Columbo brings it up with Franklin, who attributes it to wanting to distract himself. Noting that bills sure are distracting, Columbo’s already knows he did it. Or Donald Pleasance, as the obsessed oenophile Adrian Carsini, delegating the delicate task of decanting a special bottle of wine to a colleague (because Carsini is shaky after just bludgeoning his brother). Or Dr. Fleming (Gene Barry), in Prescription: Murder, not calling out to his wife when he returns home from a trip – because of course, he knows she’s dead.
That’s not the sort of thing Holmes is good at processing.
But there’s a second, more important aspect to Columbo’s psychological approach to crime solving, and it’s the part that all but defines Columbo. And that’s the psychological warfare he unleashes on the suspects. He insinuates himself into their life, wheedles them into offering explanations of the clues, sets rhetorical traps (often involving deceptions) that pressure them to take actions to destroy evidence or attempt to incriminate others. Columbo subtly maneuvers them psychologically to expose their guilt.
Holmes will have none of that. Mostly, his criminals remain off stage, out of touch. With Columbo, it’s all very personal. We might even call it micro-aggression nowadays.
As Oscar Finch observed about the Lieutenant in Agenda for Murder: “You know, uh, you’re rather subtle for, uh, a man who seems so, uh, overt!”
Thank you Glenn, for your thorough and interesting contribution. You did something I’ve long hesitated to undertake, like CP, by comparing the greatest literary and the greatest televison detective. Very interesting reading! But then from the likes of you I’d expect nothing less.
When it comes to plain knowledge, I’d like to add one more thing: Holmes appears ‘to know just about everything under the sun’ but that’s not entirely true. He knows about everything that’s relevant for him to know. In A Study in Scarlet Watson notes that Holmes isn’t even aware that the earth revolves around the sun – he apparently deleted this piece of knowledge since it had no practical use for him.
And then there is the question of motivation: what is driving these men, why are they so dedicated? You wrote how much both these love it when ‘the game is afoot’ but I think there is more to it.
Columbo’s initial motiviation, when entering the force, was to make the most out of his abilities, to become a good cop and do his job well. For this he decided to work harder than the others, etc, as you already quoted. And then he must have discovered how much he turned out to like his job, as Columbo remarks on more than one occasion. When working he’s doing the thing he likes to do most.
The same is true for Holmes, however for him it’s a most essential way of escaping boredom. When Holmes hasn’t had a case for days, he will reach for a siringe and his morphine or cocaine to be able to get through the day.
Columbo would take his wife bowling.
So, while I think both men were clearly made for their jobs, Holmes’ life is one of addiction – his job is his drug.
And finally, I really like your conclusion, your longing for a new literary detective to fill up the gap left behind by these greats. I feel the same, and have tried for 7 years now to fill part of this gap in my own small way. I’ve written 4 detective novels (so far) about an Irish private detective, a minimalist called Connla Quinn, out of sheer love for the likes of Columbo, Holmes and Nero Wolfe – and they are full of references to them. They are completely nonviolent and all about the mystery. While pretty well received in The Netherlands, no foreigner publisher has yet dared to have them translated and publish them in English, but I do wish that one day you’ll be able to read these little puzzles, because of our mutual love for great detective literature and television.
So thanks again Glenn, and the same goes for CP and all other contributors here.
David, thanks for the kind words. I considered referencing the Holmes quote about not knowing that the earth revolves around the sun, and since Doyle wrote it into “A Study in Scarlet”, it certainly could be taken literally. I see it, though, as a cheeky exaggeration meant to get a shock reaction from a new acquaintance (“Scarlet” being the first Holmes story, introducing him to Watson). Doyle had no plan to continue writing 1, let alone 59, more Holmes stories. If he had, I suspect that he wouldn’t have had Watson draw up a list of the topics that Holmes didn’t know anything about – why limit your brilliant protagonist’s knowledge base in his very first appearance? And indeed, I don’t believe that this facet of Holmes supposed gaps in his mastery is ever mentioned again.
Bets of luck in getting your mysteries translated and shared with us!
Thanks Glenn, in return, for your kind words. Personally I think that Doyle meant this ‘gaps in his mastery’ to stay, to become part of the character, because it makes Holmes a human being more, instead of a machine. It’s comparable with Columbo’s rare outbursts of anger, I feeling, those treasured rare moments when the main protagonist steps out of character, when emotion takes over, like the famius scene in A stitch in crime. Even Holmes’ brilliance must have had some minor limitation, we know Doyle must have felt that way, otherwise he wouldn’t have made Mycroft the smarter brother.
We’re given considerable opportunity to observe the private Sherlock Holmes. We rarely see the private Columbo. What’s he like off the job? We’ve only seen snippets. “Troubled Waters” may have the longest such stretch of any episode. (Ironically, “No Time to Die” may have the next longest.) But even these aren’t truly private settings. We never see him at home with no one else around except Mrs. C. Like Holmes and Watson at 221B. So I don’t regard Columbo’s rare outbursts as his stepping out of character, because I’m not quite sure what his natural character is. Columbo deals with his adversary in whatever manner he deems most effective. In most cases, he tries to be underestimated. But not always. Some adversaries need to be knocked off their high horses, Mayfield and Janis among them. Maybe, in these moments, we are seeing the real Columbo.
Aside from the characterizations of Holmes and Columbo, one can also find parallels in the creative process of getting each sleuth’s stories to print and celluloid. The common complaint is that the longer “Columbo”s have too much filler, but new Conan Doyle readers will be surprised at the long and involved backstories found in the four Sherlock novels, where Holmes and Watson depart the narrative for lengthy stretches that may test the readers’ patience.
We can all point to our least-favorite Columbo clunkers and acknowledge that not all episodes were gems. So too, you’ll find plenty of ho-hum Holmes among Doyle’s writings. That’s partly a product of Doyle’s stated difficulty of coming up with new and innovative Sherlock mysteries, an issue that viewers of New Columbo and readers of “Shooting Columbo” will no doubt recognize. But even among the lesser-lights of the Holmes library, one can find strong writing quality in the characterizations, atmosphere, and setting descriptors of each short story. Likewise, the connective tissue of the Classic Columbo era – the high quality of music, sets, direction, production values, guest stars, and the ability to strike the right balance of serious crime-solving, characterization and humor – helped mitigate the problems when plots and gotchas would come up short.
I had not heard of Ellery Queen until I happened upon Columbophile’s blog. Thanks to frequent commenters like Glenn, I have since read a dozen or so of those stories. I found them enjoyable enough but also very much “of their era.” I have not seen the TV series.
Anyhoo, few of my peers under age 50 are familiar with Queen (perhaps relevant, I’m midwestern American). I kept thinking of whether the stories could be successfully adapted today. Ultimately I concluded that it would just be better to create a new detective, a la Knives Out, that maybe borrows an element or two from this largely dead and forgotten character. There would be simply no hype to trade on.
Meanwhile, almost everyone over age 30 is familiar with Columbo. Most are not fans, per se, but they recognize the character. All this is to say that the clock is ticking on the marketability of a fresh Columbo creation. Despite its reported renewed interest during pandemic, I suspect many of those viewers were revisiting the series they recalled liking in their youth or been procrastinating for decades, as opposed to coming from younger generations. Now or never Hollywood, now or never.
I have never seen the Ellery Queen series repeated – but still remember from the original showings in the mid seventies. Very high quality – particularly reproduction of fifties era. Though it was commercially unsuccessful at the time – this craftsman-like style now seems to have come back into fashion – eg Murdoch Mysteries, etc.
Period mysteries have become quite common in recent years. I mentioned three in my initial comment to this post: Foyle’s War, Endeavour, and Grantchester. Ellery Queen (set in the late ‘40’s, not the ‘50’s) was another excellent example. Aside from their brilliant evocation of a bygone era, there is another explanation for their recent prevalence. Modern mysteries have become too forensics oriented. A crime is committed, crime scene technicians dressed in coveralls, gloves, and booties move in, everything goes to the lab, and the case is 90% solved. Laboratories make all the brilliant deductions that used to be reserved for the master detective. By setting the series pre-DNA and other ultramodern forensic techniques, the preeminence of the master detective is restored. They are far more interesting characters than chemists and microbiologists.
Yes, and so much modern detecting work is to do with mobile phone and pc technology. This includes my all time favourite, the modern French series Spiral.
Yet another reason why I love your Columbo prequel concept! A late 50s New York setting not only skirts the trappings of contemporary technology but also all but ensures visually sumptuous set designs (provided sufficient budget of course). Mad Men, Downtown Abbey, etc. heavily rode the latter appeal to hit status.
Agreed. I’ve written that “Det. Columbo, NYPD” potentially piggybacks the proven success of Endeavour (a period prequel to a successful detective series) atop Mad Men (evoking the Manhattan of the late ‘50’s-early ‘60’s).
Excellent – thought provoking – article. Thank you so much for this groovy addition to Columbophile’s most excellent blog!
Regarding the challenge of finding a cerebral detective, Nero Wolfe and his confidential leg man Archie Goodman came immediately to mind. Rex Stout, with all his imperfections, created and maintained a thinking detective totally dependent on facts he very seldom found for himself; it was all in his mind. It’s what I enjoy about the Nero Wolfe mysteries; Archie’s gathering of clues and facts for Wolfe, who hates to work, almost as much as I do. I enjoy being disgusted with Wolfe as much as I do his ability to put together the puzzle without leaving his favorite chair – though when he does, the adventure is spectacular.
I totally agree that Monk has episodes, or portions of, that carried the torch. Alas, the expense of comedy and abuse he suffered at writer’s hands to keep him ‘in check’ so the series could continue, makes Monk slide toward the Organ Grinder’s Monkey all to frequent and, for me, sad. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the series but I am uncomfortably aware when re-watching the goal is getting renewed without changing the originating premise too much.
Again, thanks for this thought provoking article.
The common question throughout the Nero Wolfe books was not just: how will Wolfe solving the mystery? It was: how will Wolfe solve the mystery in a way that guarantees he’ll get paid?
so very true! 😀 I enjoy how this annoys Kramer and makes him chomp a bit more on that cigar. Also the fact Wolfe’s client is never the murderer; the work required to meet these parameters was an interesting balance to the arrogance of Wolfe and frequent frustration for Archie.
What a perfect Sunday morning read. Thank you so much for sharing this with us all. Brilliant in depth compare and contrast article. Loved it.
“ It’s Peter Falk and
nobody else.”
A masterful job, Glenn. You nailed the contrast between these two legendary cerebral detectives. And thank you so much for your shout-out to my “Det. Columbo, NYPD” prequel, a proposal I continue to push wherever I can.
I know that your focus was on the Holmes and Columbo characters, rather than comparing their stories, but the latter subject deserves some mention, too, because it helps to explain what distinguishes Columbos from other “thinking” detective series.
A lot of factors contributed to Columbo’s success: an interesting and charismatic central character, a brilliant portrayal by Peter Falk, powerful adversaries, class conflict, great guest stars, etc. But what made the Columbo series unique was its inverted mystery structure. A few of R. Austin Freeman’s mysteries featuring detective Dr. John Thorndyke were inverted (The Singing Bone (1912); The Shadow of the Wolf (1925); Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight (1930)), but even most of Freeman’s were not. I know of no detective series other than Columbo devoted exclusively to this format.
[Inverted mysteries did recur periodically on the stage: A.A. Milne’s 1928 mystery play “The Fourth Wall” (“The Perfect Alibi” in the U.S.); Anthony Armstrong’s “Ten Minute Alibi”; and the most notable example, Frederick Knott’s “Dial ‘M’ for Murder.” But these were standalone dramas. Aside from the stage version of “Prescription: Murder,” none featured a series detective.]
Why is this significant when comparing Columbo to Holmes and other so-called “cerebral investigators,” as Glenn calls them? I watch a lot of British cerebral detective series, all whodunnits: Foyle’s War; Endeavour; Grantchester; even the new series, The Chelsea Detective. I’ve noticed something common to each. As with the Sherlock Holmes model Glenn describes, their case solutions are more a very compelling theory than actual proof — a thorough explanation of how all the evidence fits together consistent with one suspect’s guilt. (Or, to use the philosopher John Gray’s quote that Glenn uses here, “the best available account of events.”) The solutions make sense, may well be correct, but don’t necessarily exclude an alternative explanation.
Columbo, at its best, eliminates this shortcoming. Since we’re not concerned with WHO did it, we can focus the entire episode on how Columbo PROVES who did it. Finding evidence consistent with guilt isn’t enough — as Columbo murderers are permitted to provide those alternative explanations other mysteries bypass. The beauty of Columbo is the interplay between detective and murderer where incriminating clue after clue is raised but rebutted, some more credibly than others (although never credibly to the viewer who knows that all of these innocent explanations are false). Of course, this all leads to the final “pop” clue — the gotcha — that, in theory, cannot be explained away. We may disagree on whether all Columbo “pops” measure up to this goal, but that certainly was the goal.
For this reason, a Columbo gotcha is qualitatively different from other cerebral detective solutions. Think Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express” for a moment. Poirot offers two possible solutions to the Ratchett murder. That’s not something the Columbo format permits.
So while I agree that the cerebral detective should live on, and has, without the inverted mystery structure, I doubt they will ever adequately fill Columbo’s shoes.
Thank you, Rich! Your points are well-noted, and the inverted mystery format has the added benefit of allowing the viewer to “tag along” and follow all the clues that Columbo is unearthing on his way to the Gotcha. Apart from the occasional format twist, Columbo himself plays fair with the audience, as we ponder the clues and how our hero will use them to prove the crime that we’ve already seen. The best episodes from the Classic era connect the dots to allow us to see Columbo’s train of thought as it approaches the final stop. (unlike, for example, “Columbo Goes to College”, where he pulls out the solution with the barest of considerations to explain how he came to it).
In the Holmes stories, the end goal is to astound and impress Lestrade/Gregson, Watson, and therefore the reader with a solution that was purposely shielded from us as the story chugged along. We saw Holmes scrapping for clues, but with only occasional nods to their significance. Holmes was obliged to explain the trick of how he did it at the conclusion, which would have been a much less effective approach in the inverted mystery, where we already know whodunit, howdunit, whydunit and wheredunit.
Finally, while on the topic of mystery writing, a plug now for Rich’s novel (avail at Amazon) “Last Train to Gidleigh”, which I read during my “cardiac period” – very cleverly constructed, unique and original. No spoilers, but you’ll have to have a copy of the book in your hands to learn the secret.
Thanks again, Glenn. I recently received an email from the organizer of a neighborhood book club that chose “Last Train to Gidleigh” as their monthly selection (because one member had read it and recommended it to the group). The email listed all the reasons “Gidleigh” is unique among mysteries. It’s nice when your readers “get it.” As does Glenn.
Speaking of inverted mysteries, may be a Japanese series “Furuhata Ninzaburo” from the 90’s and 2000’s could be of interest to you, Richard, though I don’t know if it ever was released in the West officially (I watched it several years back with amateur translated English subtitles I found on a site for dorama enthusiasts). Essentially it’s Columbo in Japanese setting, plus an added element of Ellery Queen’s “challenge to the reader” (i.e. at some point the titular character detective Furuhata breaks the “fourth wall” and tells the viewers that he has all the elements to solve the puzzle and challenges them to think of their own solution).
The closest I have seen is the Canadian series “Motive.” At the beginning of each episode, the “Victim” and “Killer” are identified. You often have no idea of a connection between these two people. The key to solving the mystery is always the why question. Hence, the title of the series.
Furuhata utilises a full-Columbo format and apparently is an explicit homage to the original. It is an inverted mystery usually with full information available from the beginning – who, why and how. And Furuhata is a sort of quirky character who has an uncanny eye for little but important clues and a talent to press suspects into entangling themselves in a web of their own lies. The running length of each episode is less than an hour so it’ is much more compact and focused with little to no padding.
https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x81vv6d
Peter Falk would smile large at this magnificent dissection!
A very interesting, well thought-out article. The principle differences between Holmes and Columbo, I believe, come from the times in which they were conceived. The Victorians believed in science and rational thought being able to answer all questions (if you had enough data, you could solve anything). An even more extreme example than Holmes in this respect is R Austin Freeman’s Dr Thorndyke, the polar opposite of Columbo.
By the 1970’s science didn’t seem so all-knowing. In ‘Try and Catch Me’ Columbo admits openly he knows nothing about complex forensic techniques. He deals with people, he likes people, sometimes he even likes aspects of the people who kill. We have returned to human nature.
Holmes often complained of boredom. Columbo could never be bored, because he found everything he needed of interest in the people around him,.
My thanks to Glenn on such a thought-provoking article. Some further points of comparison between the two greats: –
• Both men are untidy by nature. Columbo admits as much to Mrs Peck in ‘Double Shock’, and we are given ample evidence of Holmes’ lack of care in keeping his lodgings in a neat and tidy condition via Watson’s observations. Sherlock, however, has a much more ordered mind than Columbo, who is reliant on his note-keeping skillz and reminders to avoid forgetting crucial evidence.
• Columbo and Sherlock both love it when ‘the game is afoot’, but Columbo is a much happier, more content person than Sherlock. Away from work, we hear of Columbo enjoying the simple pleasures of bowling with his wife, cooking and hanging with the family. Sherlock HATES and is bored senseless by everyday life, hence his sometime reliance on cocaine or opiates to pass the time when cases are few and far between. One senses that Holmes is bipolar and experiences thrilling highs and devastating lows unknown by Columbo. There are strong arguments for Columbo being neurodivergent, but he’s not a depressive.
• Sherlock often relies on the less luminous minds around him to help sharpen his thinking via sharp disposal of their ideas and suggestions. Columbo does the same, albeit it in more human terms. Note how he comments how helpful Wilson was to him on the case in ‘Greenhouse Jungle’, despite us knowing that Wilson bungled his way through his investigations and made endless errors of judgement. On his second appearance in ‘Now You See Him’, Wilson is even described as ‘Dr Watson’ by Santini, and he plays the part to a tee. His knowledge of cutting-edge typewriters provided Columbo with the inspiration he needed to crack the case via the disposable carbon ribbon evidence. He couldn’t have done it without Wilson, but Wilson himself was unaware of the significance of his contribution. Mrs Columbo, I suspect, also has a similar effect on Columbo’s thinking during their discussions at home. The Lieutenant says as much in ‘Lady in Waiting’ when a proverb of his wife’s ‘you’re putting the cart before the horse’ enables him to rethink the evidence he has against Beth Chadwick.
• Both are able to employ an everyman charm to open doors in their investigations. For Columbo, it comes naturally. Notice how easily he is able to win round potentially troublesome or untouchable individuals to help further his investigations, including Artie Jessup in ‘Friend in Deed’, the King of Suari in ‘Case of Immunity’, Ned Diamond in ‘Forgotten Lady’, or drunken bum Thomas Dolan in ‘Negative Reaction’. He even has been able to win round those who have previously taken a dislike to him when they can see the kind of man he really is (Kathy Goodland in ‘Greenhouse Jungle’, Mrs Peck, Helen Stewart in ‘Dead Weight’). Holmes has the same knack, but for him it’s an act. Think of how easily he wins the heart of the housemaid in ‘Charles Augustus Milverton’ to enable him to learn all he needs about the layout and movements of Milverton’s house, grounds and movements.
• Adventure followed both wherever they went. When a badly depleted Holmes needs rest and recuperation, Watson takes him for a break in the country, which naturally turns into an investigation in ‘The Reigate Squires’. Similarly, Columbo is drawn into a trio of murders on his travels: twice while holidaying (‘Troubled Waters’ and ‘A Matter of Honor’) and while on an overseas work trip to London (‘Dagger of the Mind’).
• Threats against them do nothing to deter them – in fact their determination is only hardened. Columbo is often reported to his superiors by desperate crims hoping to avoid his closing in on them. Examples include ‘Suitable for Framing’, when Kingston’s attempts to remove him from the investigation are rebuffed by Columbo’s supportive captain; and ‘Case of Immunity’, when Columbo dismisses advice from the State Department to drop his investigation against Hassan Salah, spurring him on to confront the man at the garden party. Many threaten Holmes, who takes such action in his stride and uses them to mentally enhance his understanding of his adversaries (e.g. Grimesby Roylett in ‘The Speckled Band’).
• Both characters were canonically sparingly used over a similar shelf life. Columbo appeared in 69 episodes over a 35-year period from 1968-2003 (excluding ‘Enough Rope’ from 1960), while Sherlock starred in 60 canonical novels and short stories between 1887-1927.
Wow, what a treat! Big thank you to Glenn and CP for the thought-provoking article. Lots of great stuff to absorbe. Thanks guys!