Loretta Swit and Mike Farrell sat across from each other, steam curling from their coffee mugs. It wasn’t Malibu, and there were no olive drab tents surrounding them…

The studio was small and dimly lit, filled with that low-hanging, warm amber glow that makes every podcast feel like a midnight confession between old friends. Alan Alda…

The restoration shop in the valley was quiet, smelling of motor oil and old leather. Mike Farrell stood by the open garage door, his hands deep in his…

The sun was dipping low over the Santa Monica Mountains, casting that particular shade of amber that Gary always thought looked like the Fox Ranch during a late-summer…

The studio lights were dim, and the hum of the air conditioning was the only sound until Mike Farrell adjusted his headphones and leaned into the microphone. He…

The three of them sat in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby, far away from the flashing bulbs and the red carpet. Mike Farrell leaned back, his…

  The light in the restaurant was dim, the kind of quiet place where two old friends could disappear for a few hours without being noticed. Loretta reached…

  It was a quiet afternoon at a gathering years after the tents had been folded away forever. Gary was sitting a few feet away from Mike, listening…

By the mid-1970s, the face of the man who played Hawkeye Pierce was on every magazine cover in America. He was the center of a cultural phenomenon, a…