This post was brought to you by Siri Raasch, who once worked for an unusual older woman in Maine.
I have been prepping to be an old lady my entire life. When I was in third grade I had a subscription to Reader’s Digest. I ate Raisin Bran for breakfast. And every Sunday night at eight, after 60 Minutes, I plunked myself in front of the television and waited, rapt, for the noodling piano that announced the start of Murder, She Wrote.
If there is one non-cartoon television show that defined my childhood, Murder, She Wrote is it. I don’t remember who introduced me to the pleasures of Jessica “J.B.” Fletcher’s keenly deductive imagination, though it was probably my grandmother, who had a fondness for the brainy problem-solving heroes of ‘80s television (see also: MacGyver). It was gruesome enough for a seven year old to adore, and satisfying enough for that same seven year old to begin cultivating a lifelong love of the mystery genre, and the lonely (or at least lone) sleuths who were its stars. MSW led directly to Mary Higgins Clark, who led to Agatha Christie, who led to P.D. James, Dorothy Sayers, and Kate Atkinson; to Prime Suspect, Lewis, Sherlock, and Luther. I can even trace my love of The X-Files to MSW: Mulder and Scully have more than a little of the tenacious, analytical Mrs. Fletcher in their DNA, even if that DNA has been genetically modified by a shadow government.
*
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, let me tell you a story: a story about a board game. The Murder, She Wrote board game. You didn’t know such a thing existed? Neither did I, before my friend Sarah brought it one summer to camp. (For the sake of clarity: I mean camp in the upstate New York sense, i.e., a small un-insulated cottage on a freshwater lake that has a preponderance of mismatched glasses and forks with wonky tines and maybe exposed studs but is the greatest place to family-vacation on earth.) Sarah and I met in day care, and had been friends for years—but this year, when she came to visit, she unknowingly brought the one thing that would enflame my jealousy. She brought this:
Clue was already my favorite board game. Its gameplay satisfied the bloodlust and penchant for solving things that, like a good grasshopper, I had been learning from J.B. for years; plus I am an only child and had perpetual dibs on Miss Scarlet. (And the movie—don’t get me started. It is perfect.) Here was a game not unlike Clue—the object being to solve, from a rogue’s gallery of Cabot Cove’s finest, whodunnit—with an added twist: one of the players WAS the murderer. If you drew the murderer card, you visited people around the Cove spaces on the board and replaced their alive character tile with a dead one, thereby secretly MURDERING. The trick, if you were a sleuth, was remembering who was alive and who was dead, and when, so that you might deduce whom among you was a stone cold killer. It was the best game I had ever played, and when Sarah left, it left too.
For years, I searched. In those days before the Internet, we knew how to yearn. How to long, how to pine. How to tilt one’s head all the way back and scan the towering wall of board games in Kaybee Toys for a blue edge, a flash of reddish-blonde Jessica Fletcher hair. But she was never there. I never found her.
Until I was a teenager, taking a break from my job at the Museum of Science and Technology’s gift shop. For some reason there was a flea market/sidewalk sale in the surrounding square. And there she was: bright blue-eyed and red-blonde haired, hardly foxed, waiting for me. I think she cost five dollars, and I think, in my life, I have played the game maybe three times—one of the perils of being an only child; despite having game friends, Murder, She Wrote really works best with many players—but the important thing is that finding that board game renewed my faith in the great mystery of happenstance. With one real-life deus ex machina, Jessica Fletcher came back into my life.
She wasn’t done with me, nor I with her.
*
In my mid-twenties I started to joke about it. I told people I wanted to grow up to be Jessica Fletcher. It seemed a funny shorthand description of my essential personality: I’m highly observant. I like to read. I like to write. I’m an indoor girl, and I have a cat. I know how to kill you with poison (but I won’t). I’d probably do better in a small town where I loved a lot of people, where said people loved me too but knew when to leave me alone.
And then I realized it wasn’t a joke at all. I do want to grow up to be Jessica Fletcher. All those hours watching Jess tromp around Cabot Cove had drawn up a blueprint for a life, and had presented an ideal woman to become: A woman who writes books. Who supports herself by writing those books, who has artistic integrity but isn’t paralyzed by her own insecurities as an artist and remains humble in the face of success. Who gets intense satisfaction from finding the right word, finishing her novel and closing that sweet leather portfolio.
And a woman who pays attention—who notices everything, remembers everything, and uses her intelligence and empathy to make sense of the world. Who sees humans be their worst, most selfish and violent selves, and treats them compassionately even as she’s squeezing confessions out of them. Who isn’t afraid to follow a hunch, and isn’t afraid of people not liking her. A woman on her own—a widow, yes, and with a past, but not defined by either—who’s a member of a lively community and has deep friendships with men and women alike. A woman with nieces and nephews and old friends all over the world, but who would have traveled even if she didn’t have so many people to visit. A curious woman with tremendous agency, who never apologizes for being smart and can equally rock the hell out of gown, a suit, and a chambray shirt.
I haven’t even mentioned that Jessica Fletcher was played by Angela Lansbury, who has brought to life everything from a singing teapot to a cannibalistic meat-pie shop proprietress, and who, just his month, was named a Dame Commander of the British Empire by QE herself. Dame Angela is worthy of not a little adulation. But this is about Jessica Fletcher, and how I came to recognize what I was really learning from eight to nine on Sunday nights. There are far worse heroes for little girls to have than a woman pushing sixty who writes mysteries and solves murders. And I hope somewhere, thanks to syndicated and streaming TV, kids are still learning, by her example, the same lessons she taught me: how to look past the dead bodies and see a way of living life.
Tags: feminism, heroes, kate racculia, murder, television
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WHERE IS FIGGIE FOR THIS PIECE??
I love this I’ve been watching it on Netflix a ton lately, and it’s WONDERFUL. I love that so many of these male characters turned to JB for advice and assistance. I love how she was open about being scared but determined to go forward anyway. I just love it all.
I’m heeeeeere!
I’ve been working on my first-time watch-through of the entire series thanks to a tip-off from a friend who is coincidentally named Jessica, and I love love looooove Tweeting about it:
https://twitter.com/figwiggin/status/481276210337…
I tease a little bit, but it’s with so much love. And I’ve gotten at least two internet friends to start watching it again on what I assume is the strength of Kate Mulgrew’s perfect face:
https://twitter.com/figwiggin/status/472198128750…
Yeah, you totally got me to start rewatching it, too!
THIS IS GENIUS. GEN.I.US.
I’M IN!!
YES!! [future older lady mystery-solvers high five] Murder She Wrote on Netflix instant has seen me through some rough times.
I NEED the board game. I NEED IT.
I’m sorry, I had some trouble finishing this because my eyeballs seem to have turned into little hearts.
I never really got in to Murder She Wrote when I was a kid — I mostly stuck with Poirot — but I’m strongly considering revisiting it now.
Also, loved the references to Western New York — I grew up across the lake from one of those camps, but I never got to go myself.
What a wonderful way of looking at MSW; gives me a new appreciation for the show! Great piece! (Sorry for the excessive use of exclamation points, but your writing totally tickled me, it was so good).
The Hairpin had a feature “Get This Look” that took on Murder She Wrote (or Angela Landsbury, can’t quite remember) and I’m actively pairing it with this.
Greetings from a fellow old-lady-in-training! This was perfect, btw. I only saw a few episodes of Murder, She Wrote (our family favored PBS on Sunday nights, so there was a lot of nature programming). I grew up on the old Poirot movies, and later the Marple ones (again, PBS) and I love them to death. But I think Jessica Fletcher is a better role model, absolutely. I think I must hunt the old episodes down on Netflix or some such.
Also, please tell me your thoughts on Murder By Death. By “your thoughts” I mean of course, “uninterrupted, effusive praise” because that movie is awesome and wonderful and ALSO Angela Lansbury is so great in it.
MURDER BY DEATH. Mallory made me watch it for the first time and now I watch it allll the time.
YES. MURDER BY DEATH is the proto-Clue, a veritable SMORGASBORD of murder mystery nerdery!
My husband and I regularly say, “Sloppy!” in an outrageous French accent every time one of us drops something or gets food on his/her shirt.
All this to say that Murder by Death is awesome, and I want to watch it again right now, but it’s not on Netflix. *sob*
My inner mystery-solving old lady is more of a Miss Marple, but I think a crucial part of my identity can be traced back to my childhood self seeing Jessica Fletcher’s shocked and outraged face whenever a man would brush her off or underestimate her. Just that look of YOU DARE? before steadfastly pressing on and solving the murder and putting them in their place.
i watched every episode of murder she wrote on netflix during a period of deep depression/unemployment and found it so comforting and empowering and sometimes you just need to watch hours of a strong female character using just her wit to dominate every situation with absolutely no sexual tension whatsoever involved, you know? ugh now trying to justify spending $50 to buy this boardgame online real quick, help
DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT.
The board game sounds perfect! Cluedo (as we call it in Britain for some reason) is a bit disappointing in that if you’re the murderer, you don’t know until the end when the murderer card comes out of the envelope, so you can find that you’ve wasted a lot of time trying to uncover your own crimes. Games where one person is the killer and has to try to cunningly bluff the others are perfect (see also: Werewolf)
It’s awesome to see the Mystery/Murder She Wrote divide on here, because I was reading and wondering why I didn’t watch more MSW as a child! That is why!
And I will also now go watch it.
Oh man. Oh man. I love Murder She Wrote so much. I recently ran out of episodes on Netflix and it’s devastating not to have it to watch while I’m falling asleep any more. The best parts of it are 1) They always establish the murder victim as a total wang before he gets killed, so you can just be happy about it and not feel vaguely sick about another innocent young woman being brutally murdered as on every single current procedural. And 2) Every mystery is solved in the exact same way, by the murderer revealing a detail of the crime that he would have no way of knowing if he weren’t the murderer. This is comforting. ALSO. The best episodes are the ones where they try to inject some hip young flavor, and then Jessica goes to a club to watch a band headed by someone playing a keytar.
My name comes in part from Murder She Wrote.
That is all.
While my love for Jessica Fletcher is like a river (ever flowing, never ending, full of tiny fish), I did start to wonder what the fuck was in the water in that town. Seriously, someone got murdered at least once a week! Cabot Cove’s crime stats have to be off the charts.
Thank you for validating me!! I always wanted to grow up to be Jessica Fletcher– globetrotting mystery writer who was comfortable in any situation, looked out for the underdogs, took no misogynistic guff and had a great circle of friends and family. I think I actually said it in fourth grade during one of those “Who is your hero?” exercises. Patronizing chuckles ensued. But I was serious!
So if my 4th of July plans get rained out (thanks a lot, Arthur) I’m spending my weekend with a MSW bingewatch. Hell, I may do that anyway!
I love watching MSW, but every single time I get to the end and have no idea at all what happened, who did it or why. I’m probably just not paying enough attention to it but there is something about it that just goes straight through my brain without letting any of the content sink in.
Is anyone here watching The Bletchley Circle? I feel like it is for 3rd wave feminists what MSW was for 2nd wave feminists, because instead of focusing on one powerful woman who is just as good as a male detective, it is about a group of women who build on each other’s skills and go about solving murders in a really not-male way. Also, A+ for the actors not wearing makeup because you couldn’t get it in postwar England (I loved Jessica Fletcher as much as the next girl but that red lipstick, lol). Just…could they not have found some way for there to be a nonwhite character? Ugh.
Did you know there was going to be a MSW reboot this year but it got cancelled in January? I would have watched the hell out of Octavia Spencer solving murders.
I love the Bletchley Circle! It’s not on at the minute in the UK but I have seen both series and if they do more I will be right there.
I’ve never seen Murder, She Wrote but this makes me want to start watching it.
Also, I used to volunteer at the MOST! (Assuming you’re talking about the one in Syracuse.) I never could get them to hire me for a real job, so I’m jealous of your gift shop job.
I can’t believe this was written by someone who isn’t me.
And that board game is FANTASTIC. I now have parties where an elite 4-6 people gather to play the MSW board game and sip cocktails, all the while MSW is on in the background. It’s become, among my friends, both a source of humor and a source of “OMG I WANT TO PLAAAAY!”, so much so that I’ve started a wait list.
I’ve seen every episode (and TV movie). My birthday is in a couple of months, and I’m arranging a live reading of an episode (I’m an actor and playwright so I have access to just the right people for it). Anyway, I agree, there is no better role model than JB.
And she really knows how to wear a sweater.
YES. This was amazing, and for much of it I thought you had entered my brain and stolen my thoughts and memories! I too grew up watching Murder, She Wrote (thanks to my mom, who instilled my deep love of mysteries at an early age). I too am often seen as old/odd by friends for some of the shows I watch and books I read (a friend gave me the first season of Golden Girls on DVD for my 30th birthday, which of course I loved). My old roommate would roll her eyes when she would come home to find me tuned to the TV watching Rosemary & Thyme, or one of the many other wonderful PBS British mysteries.
Every time the Hallmark channel has a MSW marathon (as they often do), I’m watching at least part of it (and by the way, they also show two episodes a night around 10 or 11 during the week). I’ve streamed the whole series on Netflix, and go back and watch various episodes when I’m in the mood. Jessica is just so comforting. She is like curling up in front of the fire with cocoa and your softest blanket. I love her.
I feel like this is a safe place to admit that I purchased the Murder, She Wrote app a while ago. It is…not great, but that didn’t stop me from playing all of their limited selection of “plots.” Thank you for writing such a loving tribute to JB Fletcher (and Angela Lansbury, fantastic in her own right, of course).
Does anyone else remember the made-for-TV movie (Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris) starring Angela Lansbury where she is a cleaning woman who saves and saves so she can go to Paris to buy a Dior ball gown? That was one of the weirdest movies to influence me as a very young child, along with Orlando and Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
Obvi I love MSW. I just wish Jessica Fletcher got laid more often. I hate that she didn’t lay sexual waste to all those silver foxes in guest starring roles. I just hate that it seems like in order for her to have financial independence and superior intellect she also had to be a prim, sexless saint. It feels like was an implicit and unfair trade-off in there somewhere.
I, too, feel like a Jessica Fletcher in waiting (Or a Sophia). I loved both MSW and Golden Girls (even the spin-offs like Empty Nest). I couldn’t wait to grow up and be just like them! I still feel like that and, at 37, have another 20 years to wait.
There are a lot of us J.B. Fletcher loving weirdos! I STILL want her life. Watching it now I’m so blown away by which this show issues we’re still struggling with today. Plus, pretty much every guest star has become successful. hey there baby Megan Mullally and Bryan Cranston! Such a gem.