You remember the gold chains. The mohawk. The "I pity the fool" catchphrase that basically defined a decade. But honestly, most people think Mr. T’s screen career started and ended with B.A. Baracus or his boxing bout with Rocky Balboa. That’s not quite the whole story.
When The A-Team got the axe in 1987, the biggest star on the planet didn't just disappear into the sunset. He moved to Canada.
He traded the rugged GMC Vandura for a wardrobe of sharp three-piece suits and a new gig as a private investigator. The result was the T and T TV show, a weirdly charming, low-budget crime drama that ran for three seasons from 1988 to 1990. It’s the kind of show that feels like a fever dream if you haven't seen it in thirty years. T.S. Turner—that’s the T in the title—was a former boxer framed for a crime he didn’t commit. Sound familiar? It’s basically the A-Team premise condensed into a half-hour syndicated format, but with a lot more legal posturing and a surprising amount of heart.
The Courtroom Meets the Street
The "other T" in the equation was Amanda Taler, played by Alex Amini (and later Kristina Nicoll). She was the crusading public defender who cleared Turner’s name and then realized she needed a guy with massive biceps to help her solve cases. It was a classic "brains and brawn" setup, but played with a sincerity that was typical of 1980s television.
They operated out of a gym and a law office, usually helping people the system had chewed up and spit out.
Think about the landscape of 1988 for a second. We had Miami Vice pushing high-fashion grit and MacGyver solving world crises with paperclips. Then you had T and T, which felt like it was filmed in the alleyways of Toronto on a Tuesday afternoon. It was gritty, but in a "Public Service Announcement" kind of way. Mr. T was arguably at his most likable here because he wasn't playing a cartoon character. He was T.S. Turner: a professional, a mentor to kids, and a man who looked surprisingly natural in a tie.
Why It Looked So... Different
If you watch an episode today on a service like Tubi, you’ll notice the production value is a bit "economical." That’s because it was a Canadian-American co-production involving Nelvana (the animation studio!) and Hal Roach Studios.
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- Location: Most of it was shot around Toronto, including the old Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital.
- Tone: It shifted from serious crime to "educational" moments.
- Style: Turner’s suits were impeccable, but the sets were often sparse.
The half-hour runtime was the show's biggest hurdle. Honestly, trying to fit a complex legal mystery and a fistfight into 22 minutes is a tall order. Usually, the "mystery" was solved by Turner showing up and looking intimidating until someone confessed.
Mr. T’s Transition from B.A. Baracus
Fans were used to seeing Mr. T throwing people through doors and refusing to get on planes. In the T and T TV show, he had to be more grounded. He was still a tough guy, but he was also a private eye who had to navigate the bureaucracy of the legal system. It was an attempt to show his range, and for the most part, it worked. He had this quiet warmth, especially when interacting with the younger cast members like Sean Roberge, who played Joe Casper.
There was a real focus on "teaching moments."
During the late 80s, Mr. T was a huge advocate for staying in school and off drugs. The show leaned into this. It wasn't uncommon for an episode to end with a lecture about making the right choices. Some people find it preachy now, but back then, it was part of his brand. He was the world's most muscular big brother.
The Weirdest Episode You’ll Ever See
You can't talk about this show without mentioning "Turner's Tale" from Season 3. It’s legendary among cult TV fans for being completely unhinged. Turner tells a story to a kid, and the entire episode turns into a rhyming musical set in a magical forest. People are dressed as owls and rabbits. The police are there. It’s a total departure from the "PI in a suit" vibe and feels like a glimpse into a parallel universe where Mr. T hosted a psychedelic version of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.
The Supporting Cast that Kept it Moving
While the show was a starring vehicle for Mr. T, the supporting players did a lot of the heavy lifting. David Nerman played Danforth "Dick" Decker, the gym owner and T.S.'s close friend. Decker provided the comic relief and a place for Turner to vent when the legal system got too frustrating. He was the only supporting character to stick around for all 65 episodes.
Then there was the rotation of lawyers. Alex Amini left after the first couple of seasons, replaced by Kristina Nicoll as Terri Taler (Amanda's sister).
It was a bit of a "Darrin from Bewitched" situation, but the show didn't skip a beat. The chemistry remained roughly the same. The show moved from syndication to The Family Channel for its final run in 1990, which is probably why those later episodes feel even more like "after-school specials."
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Why T and T Still Matters to Fans
So, why do we care about a 35-year-old syndicated show that most people have forgotten?
Because it represents a specific era of television that doesn't exist anymore. It was the era of the "first-run syndication" boom. Local stations needed content to fill time slots, and Canadian production companies were happy to provide cheap, reliable dramas. The T and T TV show wasn't trying to win an Emmy. It was trying to give you a half-hour of entertainment where the good guy always won and the moral was clear.
Also, it's just fascinating to see Mr. T at that specific crossroads in his career. He was trying to figure out how to be "Mr. T" without the A-Team.
The Legacy of T.S. Turner
The show was nominated for a few Gemini Awards (the Canadian equivalent of the Emmys) in 1989 and 1990. It wasn't a critical darling, but it had a loyal audience. For kids growing up in the late 80s, it was the only way to see their hero on a weekly basis.
Today, the show is a time capsule. You see the oversized blazers, the brick-sized cell phones, and the aesthetic of a pre-gentrified Toronto. It’s nostalgic, sure, but it’s also a testament to Mr. T’s enduring charisma. He didn't need a tank or a machine gun to hold your attention; he just needed a decent suit and a reason to help someone.
How to Revisit the Series
If you’re looking to scratch that 80s itch, the entire run of the T and T TV show is actually fairly easy to find. It’s been a staple on free streaming services for a few years now.
- Check Tubi: They usually have all three seasons available for free (with ads).
- YouTube: Several "Retro Rerun" channels have uploaded full episodes in surprisingly good quality.
- Physical Media: If you’re a die-hard collector, there was a limited DVD release years ago, though it’s pretty rare now.
Don't go into it expecting The Wire. Go into it expecting a fast-paced, slightly cheesy, but ultimately well-meaning detective show. It’s a reminder of a time when TV felt smaller, simpler, and a lot more earnest.
If you want to dive deeper into the world of 80s syndicated action, start with the pilot episode "Extortion in Chinatown." It sets the tone perfectly: a mix of street-level investigation and Mr. T doing what he does best—standing up for the little guy. Once you've seen him in a tuxedo taking down a criminal syndicate, you'll never look at B.A. Baracus the same way again.