This particular episode of "Mannix" is a childhood treasure for me and my schoolmates at City Terrace Elementary School in East Los Angeles. The "miracle spring" was filmed in an empty lot between the old Davison Brick Factory and the Sybil Brand Detention Facility for Women, across the freeway from Cal State L.A. One Monday morning, a rumor tore through the school: Mannix (Mike Connors) was filming up the street from the school. Almost as as impressive: the caterers had fed the kids the left-over meals.
By 3:00 pm, the school was in the grips of a frenzy, as celebrity sightings grew in number and frequency. City Terrace wasn't a bad school, but there wasn't much learning going on that day to the bewilderment of the faculty (our T.V. hero, our neighborhood, and our secret). At the sound of the last bell, 500 kids madly bolted from their desks and ran-up City Terrace Drive towards the unsuspecting film crew.
I had my doubts about the rumors, I mean, Mannix in East L.A., but those doubts were shattered when I reached the bluff overlooking the brick factory yard: there was Mannix, our television idol. In the middle of a scene we began to shout "MANNIX, MANNIX, MANNIX!" He stood with his hands on his hips laughing, standing next to a man who was not laughing. The non-laughing man, probably the director, was visibly upset about the sudden appearance of 500 kids screaming "MANNIX, MANNIX, MANNIX!" The director was given a bullhorn and he asked us to maintain silence during the filming, but it was of no use, we couldn't stop the expression of our collective glee. So we ignored the director and continued to scream "MANNIX!" The chant did not abate until Mannix himself took the bullhorn by the hand; he politely thanked us for our enthusiastic welcome but pleaded with us to be quiet during the shoot. He then promised to sign a few autographs if we cooperated and the chanting immediately stopped.
We patiently watched the long process of shooting a scene energized with the anticipation of meeting Mannix. As the shooting ended, Mannix walked towards the bluff and began to sign autographs. We began to surge towards Mannix who was protected from the crowd by just a thin rope which soon gave way. We surged again and surrounded our idol, the toughest guy on television, who suddenly looked scared (not an uncommon reaction by outsiders stranded in the streets of East L.A.). He started to look around for either help or an escape route, but Mannix was alone and beyond help. Out of desperation, he opted for a smooth, backward retreat while still signing autographs. Mannix then coolly turned and began to take long strides towards his trailer, parked one long block away. We followed. Mannix quickened and lengthened his stride. We started to run. Mannix turned his head back and saw the frightening sight of 500 Mexican-American kids running and screaming after him; that's when he panicked. He pushed us back with his arms to gain some space and then bolted for the trailer. What a sight! Mannix in full stride running down the middle of City Terrace Drive with 500 kids at his heels. From my vantage point, at the very head of the mob, watching Mannix flee, I thought "hey, this is just like the T.V. show-he's always running!" Except that Mannix was laughing, enjoying the absurdity of the moment.
Mannix reached the trailer, he struggled with the door handle, and finally managed to wedge himself in the frame of the door. We immediately surrounded the trailer and unintentionally rocked it a bit. Mannix, partly amused and partly scared, yelled out that everyone would get an autograph if we lined up in an orderly fashion because he didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially him. He must have been tired from a long day's shoot, but he stood at the doorway and as promised signed 500 autographs. And he seemed to enjoy signing each and every one.
Mike Connors, in the eyes of the kids of City Terrace, the odds were not 8-5 for a miracle; there were no doubt that divine intervention had brought you to City Terrace that day. And I had the miraculous proof in my hands--a piece of paper with a scrawl of a signature. Thank you Mannix; an entire community of will never forget your kindness.