The idea for such a show stemmed from the notorious 1986 “Preppie Murder,” in which Robert Chambers strangled a young woman during what he later claimed was consensual “rough sex” in Manhattan’s Central Park. The event inspired executive producer Dick Wolf to write the story for “Kiss the Girls and Make Them Die,” an episode that aired early in the original
Law & Order
’s first season. But, for some reason, the case continued to haunt him.
“I wanted to go deeper into the psychology of crimes like that, (to examine) the role of human sexuality,” he explains, referring to the 1999 genesis of
SVU.
In the beginning, nobody involved knew if the exploration of such dark places would find an audience. Many people watch TV to escape the crueler realities of everyday life. So, it was essential to cast actors talented and sensitive enough to convey the deeply humane approach of police, prosecutors, forensic specialists, and psychiatrists assigned to protect the public from predators.
Also, this was a task that required skilled writers who understand the legal and moral dilemmas that can surface in such cases. The same qualities are necessary in episode directors. They must elicit stellar performances—frequently from very young guest stars—that delve into some terribly grim subjects.
Luckily,
SVU
has been able to benefit from the longevity of the original
Law & Order
, affectionately referred to as “The Mother Ship.” That excellent track record helped persuade the studio and the network to take a chance on a show with an even bleaker topical sensibility. This was sure to be drama in which ripped-from-the-headlines tended to rip out the viewer’s heart.
Like all Law & Order shows, (most of) the producers, writers, and editors work in Los Angeles, while the actors and crew shoot in New York—Dick Wolf’s hometown and a city with unique personalities, cultural attractions, architecture, and events that fascinate people the world over. The Big Apple has inspired many of the greatest poems, books, plays, and movies, while continuing to nurture artists who call it home.
Landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted’s magnificent Central Park alone gives citizens a breath of fresh air and
SVU
writers acres of ideal locations. Their imaginations also swim in the Hudson and East rivers. In all five boroughs, neighborhoods can either glitter enticingly or represent urban decay. Everything needed is within reach, often a few subway stops away.
New York is also a place always struggling with how to keep 8 million residents and an untold number of visitors safe. On a daily basis, the NYPD encounters staggering calamities that would undoubtedly make the ordinary person cringe with horror.
Periodically, there are cops who think they’re above the law.
SVU
unflinchingly scrutinizes that type of miscalculation, as well as the infamous “blue wall of silence” in which loyalty trumps legality.
Although Wolf wants the series to shed light on sexual maladjustment, nobody can say for sure what makes “perps”—as perpetrators are routinely called on the show—tick. The human mind remains a mystery that no one can afford to stop trying to unravel.
But this blight on a citizen’s right to live a peaceful life is a cause television should champion.
SVU
attempts to accomplish that in the most caring way possible, without unnecessary prurience.
The series also contributes to the civic discourse essential for communities working together to find a solution . . . or a remedy. Executive producer and showrunner Neal Baer is a physician who specializes in pediatrics. So it’s no accident that he infuses
SVU
with a desire to cure this world of its ills.
On the other hand, Baer also is a brilliant storyteller. And that’s what makes the show so remarkable: With his guidance, the great yarns that are spun provide a compelling platform for the difficult themes that plague us all.
Make-believe has rarely seemed so real.
Rounding up the Brain Trust
Television screens may have gotten a little bit brighter when veteran film director Ted Kotcheff was recruited to work on
SVU
a decade ago. Despite a love of motion pictures, the medium that kept him busy from the early 1960s through the late 1990s, he was amenable to a professional detour when Dick Wolf beckoned.
“I was supposed to do a big film about Hitler, one of the two major obsessions of my life: Hitler and Shakespeare,” recounts Kotcheff, a gifted raconteur. “We were looking for locations when it fell though at the very last second.” The Third Reich and the Bard would just have to wait.
His agent told him about a new Law & Order series in the offing. “So I met Dick and we liked each other. We have the same sense of humor. I asked to see a script. If I was going to work in TV, I didn’t want to do the same old thing. But it seemed as if
SVU
went into areas no show had gone before. It was breaking new ground,” says Kotcheff, who was tapped to be in charge of the operation’s East Coast sector.
The switch in his career path stunned people he knew in the industry, one of whom even teased him: “Hey, Kotcheff! I understand you’ve gone over to the other side.”
Ted Kotcheff
The man who lured Kotcheff to the other side, Dick Wolf, remains certain of his decision. “When I heard that Ted was interested in doing television, I was both amazed and delighted,” he writes in an email. “As the director of one of the greatest sports films in the history of American cinema,
North Dallas Forty
(1979), he is an extraordinary talent. Ted is very versatile—he has expertise in drama, comedy, and character, and his films, including
The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz
(1974) and
Fun with Dick and Jane
(1977) speak for themselves.”
The
SVU
launch also was graced by an experienced writer well known to Wolf: Robert Palm, who had left
Law & Order
after the first two seasons because “I got bored with the format. I was proud of my work there, but felt kind of handcuffed.” Drum roll, please, for that law-enforcement imagery.
Palm went on to co-author several TV pilots with Wolf throughout the 1990s, though none were ever picked up. Then the two men had a falling out and stopped speaking altogether.
One day, Palm’s agent called him about a pilot that his estranged
L&O
friend had written for a new series on sex crimes. “I told (Wolf Films president) Peter Jankowski, ‘I will never ever work with him again.’ He said, ‘Please, just read the fucking script.’ I did and, son of a bitch, it was brilliant. Later, Dick said to me, ‘So, forever is five years, huh?’”
Palm, an L. A. resident at the time, became
SVU
’s first showrunner. As such, it was his idea to refer to the original
Law & Order
as the Mother Ship. “We made up stationery that dubbed our (new) show ‘The Bastard Step-child,’” he recalls.
His goal was to give the series “a strong woman’s perspective. I helped bring in female writers—more women than might normally be found in Wolfland, shall we say.”
His former boss sees it somewhat differently. “Depending on the season, there are many female writers on all these series,” Wolf contends. “We tend to have several female writers on
SVU
because of the subject matter.”
Among the gender pioneers were Dawn DeNoon, now a co-executive producer, and her writing partner at the time, Lisa Marie Petersen. Their route to
SVU
was a bit circuitous, however.
Longtime fans of the Mother Ship, they reacted with glee when their agent delivered some good news: “
Law & Order
wanted to meet with us? Oooh! And this was not
SVU
, this was
L&O
,” DeNoon recalls.
In May of 1999, the duo talked with René Balcer (then the
L&O
showrunner, now a consulting producer for USA’s
Law & Order: Criminal Intent
) in L. A. “He said they weren’t hiring staff, but they were doing a spin-off of
L&O
that year, which I couldn’t imagine because it was such an institution, called
Sex Crimes
, which was the original title,” DeNoon says.
She and Petersen subsequently met with Palm, who promised: “‘You’ll hear from me this week,’ and we heard nothing.”
Time passed. The two women had an interview for the CBS show
JAG
, which made them an immediate offer. Before they could respond their agent got a call with a second offer—from the fledgling
SVU
. “So there was no question over which one to take, not to say anything against
JAG
,” DeNoon confesses. “We screamed when we heard we got a job with (the new)
Law & Order
.”
Symbolically, it could have been a scream heard clear across the country. In New York City, Jonathan Greene was writing and producing documentaries on a freelance basis. In his spare time, he tried his hand at fictional scripts that never quite made it to the finish line.
Greene eventually paired with a former TV journalism colleague, Robert F. Campbell. He, in turn, knew David Burke, an L. A. resident who joined them in trying to pitch projects—without success—to what was then called Court TV.
Once Burke began working as an
SVU
executive producer during the first season, it wasn’t long before all three men were immersed in Wolf World. “David says to Bob, ‘We need stories,’” Greene says of the trio’s reunion.
He dusted off one of his old scripts and, along with Campbell, rewrote what would become a season two episode, “Honor,” about certain cultures that condone family members executing a young woman for any romantic relationship other than an arranged marriage.
Dick Wolf apparently was impressed. Still in New York, Greene and Campbell were promised other assignments and, maybe someday, staff positions.
Already on board the
SVU
express, Jeff Eckerle had longtime ties to the tribe. He describes rooming with Peter Jankowski after college in the late 1980s: “Just three guys in a tiny apartment.”
That sounds like the premise for a sitcom, but both men wound up toiling in the trenches for the crime-drama hothouse known as the Law & Order brand.
“I went out to dinner one night with Dick and he said, ‘Come work for me. Come be senior vice-president for my company and we’ll put it in your contract to write three scripts a season,’” says Eckerle, a former producer. “When he offered me that opportunity, I jumped on it.”
At the time,
SVU
was just getting started. “The first season, I was an executive,” Eckerle continues. “After reading my script, ‘Legacy,’ Dick said, ‘I think you should start writing for the show now.’ So, I became a full-time writer in the second season (and) I went from producer to supervising producer.”
He contends that his friendship with Wolf grew out of a mutual appreciation for their profession: “One reason Dick and I became pals is I knew what it felt like to stick your neck out, and put your talent and reputation on the line. It takes a certain amount of chutzpah.”
Chutzpah is not an unfathomable personality trait for the exuberant Peter Leto. “I’d been such a fan of the Mother Ship and always thought: ‘God, I would love to be part of that in the city where I was raised.’ But that’s such a tight-knit group, it’s hard to find a job,” says the current
SVU
supervising producer and episode director, who started in season one. “So I came to a crossroads in my career: pursue TV or movies? And then I got an offer for a movie on the same day an offer came from (the show). To hell with Hollywood! I wanted to tell these New York stories.”
Amanda Green, now a co-executive producer, had been living her own New York stories for ten years in the law enforcement field by the time
SVU
began gearing up. “I was running a forensic psychology project that went between the DA’s office and the NYPD,” she recounts. “I was working with the detectives and the DAs and the victims of sex crimes, child abuse, domestic violence, homicide, you name it.”
But one fateful day, show business came calling when
SVU
researchers learned about her expertise. “They said, ‘Would you mind answering some questions?’ I’ll never forget it was like 10 or 11:00 on a Friday night. I was out on a case, sitting in Special Victims in Brooklyn. I hid in the captain’s office for two hours and talked to one of the writers. And I came out thinking, ‘Hmm, that was really cool.’”