Hutch describing Starsky:

Describe my partner?  That's a hard one.  He's a very complex person; for all that he seems to be otherwise.  He's smart, probably smarter than me, but doesn’t like to show that off.  He's found over the years that the dumb act can get him a lot farther, not just with me but in his work too.  People tend to underestimate him and that can really work to his advantage.  There've been times when a suspect will think he's put one over on my partner and let something slip.  They're afraid of me, because they think I'm the brains of the outfit and confide in him.  Whatever works.

He's neat, almost to the point of being anal.  His car is always spotless, in and out.  I don't know how many times he's yelled at me for throwing something into the backseat.  You'd think I'd hit him or something.  It's very rare to find his apartment dirty.  I don't know when he finds the time.  I don't have nearly as much stuff as he has and I need a housekeeper.  And speaking of stuff, the guy's a pack rat.  He has so many interests that I can't keep track of them.  Always some project going on, be it models or music, or whatever.  He's even dabbled in art once or twice.  He collects stuff, too.  Pottery, loves Mexican art, things like that.  He's into photography.  Quite good at it too.

I think I need to clarify the neatness thing.  My partner is only neat about his living space.  He likes to dress in ragged old jeans and T-shirts.  Granted they're always clean, but sometimes he looks more like an unmade bed than a police officer.  People have mistaken him for a bum more than once.  He says he likes to dress for comfort and as we tend to crawl around in some pretty dirty places, why bother wearing good clothes.  At least that's his story.  I think he just doesn’t like to shop for clothes and will wear something until it literally falls off of him.  But when he dresses up, like on a date or something, he does have pretty good taste.  Of course, he's swiped stuff from my closet more than once, the rat.

Starsk comes off as a bit of a hothead.  Little things will make him so angry he has to take that mad out on something or explode.  I've seen him kick wastebaskets across the room or punch a wall.  But he usually doesn’t break things.  His anger has control.  But when it's something big, something that hurts him deeply, he goes all quiet.  That's when I usually duck for cover.  I've seen him look at people with such coldness in his eyes that you're surprised they haven't turned to ice.  I hope that I never see that look turned on me.  I don't think I'd survive it.  He especially gets mad at incompetents.  Like one case we were on where a violent criminal was let out of jail because he made a deal to provide information that the Feds wanted.  Unfortunately, an innocent person got killed by this wacko.  When Starsky confronted the Fed about it, I thought he'd yell at him or punch his lights out.  But not my partner.  Just got all cool and when he told the jerk off his voice sounded like the voice of doom.  Scared even me.

Let's see, what else?  Well, he's one of the best people I know.  I don't mean that just because he's my partner and my friend.  He loves with all his heart.  He feels things deeply.  The injustices of the world hurt him just as badly when they happen to someone he doesn’t know as they do when they happen to him.  I worry about him sometimes.  He really likes kids, maybe because he's one himself.  He'll make a good father one day.  I just hope he gets the chance.

I said that Starsk is a kid.  That may sound mean, but it's true.  He gets such pleasure out of things, like everything is new.  I think it's from losing his Dad so young.  It's made him realize that you can't take anything for granted.  Sometimes he gets to me though.  Like the junk he eats, or when he gets all pouty because I don't want to do something he's all excited about.  He loves monster movies, games, (even though he's really lousy at most of them) toys, things like that.  He likes to do magic tricks and practical jokes.  And he loves that loud, red car of his.  But mostly he loves to give me a hard time.

As I said before, it's really hard to describe my partner.  I guess to sum it up, I'd say he's my best friend.  The best friend I've ever had and a far better friend than I deserve.  And if you're a friend of his, you're damn lucky.  He may tease and torment you but if you're in trouble there's no one else I'd rather have around.  I know he'd die for me.  He's even come close to doing that a couple of times.  My life wouldn't be the same with out him and I'm forever grateful that he's in my life.  I don't ever want to find out what it would be like not to have him there.  Never.

*********

Starsky describing Hutch:

You want me to describe my partner?  Boy, that's a tough one.  Well, I guess the first thing I'd have to say is he's not what he seems.  He looks sophisticated, cool, calm, almost cold.  But that's not him at all.  Oh, sure, he's had a good upbringing, knows what wine to have with what food, how to eat caviar and all that, but he's basically a down-to-earth person.  He's also the smartest person I know.  Under that blond hair, there's a pretty good brain.  Reads a lot.  And has one of the best memories around.  He remembers things about old cases and even crimes that happened in other states that would amaze you.  He gets a bit uppity sometimes, flaunting his college education and all that, but usually he doesn’t rub it in too much.

He does tend to intimidate people.  I've seen him scare a confession out of a crook just by looking at them.  He gets this look in his eye like he just wants to reach inside you and pull out a lung or something.  Not that he'd ever hurt someone to get a confession; he just doesn’t need to.  I know there's been a few times when he's scared me.  Times I've disappointed him or done something really stupid.  Fixes me with those blue eyes and I'm ready to confess to anything myself.  But he never stays mad at me long.  Thank goodness.

The man's a slob.  I'm sorry, but it's true.  While he may dress like a Rockefeller, he lives like a pig.  His place is always a mess, needs a housekeeper just to clear a path to the door.  He drives around in a rolling garbage dump.  I tried to clean up the backseat of his car once and found about a year's worth of old newspapers and coffee cups and other crap like you wouldn't believe.  He even had this old wheel back there.  Not a car wheel, it looked like some piece of farm equipment.  Even he was surprised it was there.  And that car!  It *should* be in the dump itself.  I'm always embarrassed to be seen driving around in that atrocity.  It's got dents on top of dents and I think the only thing holding it together is all that primer paint.  And he dares to make fun of my car.  Jeez.

He lives a very Spartan lifestyle.  He's into health food, wheatgerm and goat milk shakes and soy burgers and junk like that.  Runs every morning.  I figure we get enough running on the job.  I sure don't need to take up jogging.  But he likes it, and he does tend to get a little porky if he's not careful.  He doesn’t believe in having too many possessions.  Maybe that's from having everything handed to him as a kid, I don't know.  His place is pretty sparse, comfortable, but sparse.  The only thing he really goes overboard on is his plants.  Sometimes I feel like I should bring along a machete.

I said he looks very calm and cool.  Well he is, mostly.  While I'm the kind that yells and kicks things, he holds everything inside.  It takes a lot to get him mad, but boy when he does, watch out.  He's kind of like one of those dormant volcanoes you read about.  All's calm and quiet for a long time, then one day, kabloeey!  I've learned the signs over the years.  When I see an explosion coming, I just get out of the way.  Just stay back and be there to pick up the pieces.  Whatever you do, don't hurt someone he cares about.  Your life won't be worth living.  Believe me.

He's great in a crisis, though.  There's been times when he's the only one whose kept their heads and solved whatever was wrong.  He's like one of those little terriers.  Digs in his heels and hangs on till he can fix whatever the problem is.  I've had more than one opportunity to be grateful for that trait.  But that's a whole other conversation.

He's also very talented.  Sings like no one I've ever heard before.  Plays the piano and guitar and probably half a dozen other instruments.  But he's very shy about his talent.  I've had to force or even trick him a few times to get him to perform in front of people.  He's getting better though.  I think he sings more now out of self-defense.  Usually because if he won't, I will and I sure don't sing half as well as he does.  He writes and paints some too, but his first love is music.  I guess if someday he decides to stop being a cop, he could make a pretty decent living singing.

What else can I say?  Other than he's the best person I know.  He may drive me crazy at times, but there's no one else I'd rather have around when there's trouble.  There's no one kinder, better or more trustworthy than my partner.  He's the best friend in the world.  I'm forever grateful that he's *my* best friend.  I don't know what I would do without him.  I pray I never find out.  Never.
 
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