Honor Man

In 1961, Patrick McGoohan turned down the movie role of James Bond because he thought Ian Fleming was a "talentless smut peddler." Then recommended best friend Sean Connery for the part. In his own masterpiece John Drake series trilogy, a trilogy about the intelligence world of the 1960s -- Danger Man, Secret Agent, The Prisoner -- he refused to shoot and/or kiss anyone. He was born in Astoria, Queens to Irish immigrant parents, quickly moved as a toddler to Mullaghmore, Ireland -- then to Sheffield, England as a boy. Married actress Joan Drummond in his early 20s, wrote love notes to her every day, and stayed with Drummond until his death in 2009, at the age of 80.

Patrick McGoohan is my favorite TV actor -- no one else comes close: he's always the most intelligent, elegant, interesting, courageous, and thoughtful man in the room. And the least egotistical. Watch him here in a scene from "Identity Crisis," one of two Columbo appearances for which he won an Emmy. The great Peter Falk is closing in, suspecting that a man called "Steinmetz" is actually an invention, actually Patrick McGoohan himself -- the real murderer -- in disguise.



"The T-33. . . . Silver Star": the moment when McGoohan realizes he's done, that his protected life -- again here the life of a top intelligence agent -- is over, yet his voice and eyes become modest and respectful ("I'll get your coat"): the better man has won. McGoohan's devotion is never primarily to himself, but to something outside and higher.

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Danger Man premiered in Britain in 1960 (with American financing), ran for 39 episodes at 26 minutes per, and -- in spite of its enormous popularity throughout Europe -- was canceled when the US financing dried up. McGoohan plays unarmed undercover agent John Drake, working at times for British intelligence, French intelligence, NATO, and CIA.

One of the first incarnation's earliest and best, "View from the Villa," from September 1960. (The villa's location, by the way, is Portmeiron, North Wales -- The Prisoner's goofball setting.) And as we can see, Mr. McGoohan was an amateur middleweight champion.

Drake would return three years later under the same series title in Britain, called Secret Agent everywhere else. The running time for each story was now doubled to 50 minutes (with many two-parters), but the most significant change would be Drake himself. Now more of a le Carré-type character -- sick of his "professionalism" and sick of what it is he's supposed to be protecting.

"You're Not in Any Trouble, Are You?" from October 1965 (with Susan Hampshire as the very fetching dish).

Then came The Prisoner. . .

For me, no. Despite McGoohan's elegance, fascinating confusion, and very good humor, watching it is like being forced to wear a Nehru jacket, listen to "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," watch Skidoo, and drink Tang all at the same time.

For a funny overview of every Prisoner episode, go here.

It is impossible to think of Patrick McGoohan without affection -- his ever-changing accents, his grace, his timing and nonchalance -- his wonderful pleasure in performance. His pride in craft. McGoohan embodies a vanished time when we had a more direct relationship to a performer. A generous-hearted actor (and man); a glamour without narcissism. He always seems to be in a blissful present, with an expression that says "You can’t imagine what it’s like being in this room and performing these words.”

Actually, watching him, we can.