Once upon a time, there was a tried and true formula for cop shows. Take one or two gruff and macho men (or women) in blue, give them no more than a plotline or two per episode, and make sure all is tidily resolved by the time the show is over. It was simple, sweet, and worked darn near every time it was implemented. Then along came a little show in 1981 called Hill Street Blues. It proceeded to dismantle the formula and forever changed the way America experienced life on the force.

When NBC’s Fred Silverman decided to try a different cop show, he enlisted the help of producers Michael Kozoll and Steven Bochco, and in a rare move, gave them complete creative control over the show. Bochco had previous experience writing for 70s detective shows such as Columbo and McMillan and Wife and Kozoll had written for such shows as Quincy M.E., McCloud, and the screenplay for First Blood. But this was entirely new territory and it helped to redefine once-familiar territory.

This time around, things didn’t wrap up neatly at the end of each episode, which was a series of intertwined plots that focused not only the police work, but on the private lives of those who worked as law enforcement officers and their families. There were good cops and bad, criminals behind bars and those that roamed the streets, and most importantly – all involved were seen as remarkably human, a refreshing departure from the typical “supercop” that so many previous shows had utilized. Filmed with camera techniques that replicated a documentary, it was often gritty and used explicit language to a much greater extent than had previously been acceptable.

All of this innovation and writing quality didn’t go without recognition. In the first year of broadcast alone, Hill Street Blues would pick up an astounding eight Emmy Awards. Over the course of its seven-season run, it would amass a total of 98 Emmy nominations – proving that only with guts comes glory, and Hill Street Blues certainly had its share of guts.