
In the Fall of 2010 the Television Academy asked me to produce and moderate “A Salute to TV Crimefighters”. The panel of prime time cops and detectives included my buddies Matt Bomer (White Collar), and Mary McCormack (In Plain Sight) along with Marg Helgenberger
(CSI), Thomas Gibson (Criminal Minds), Angie Harmon (Rizzoli & Isles), Matt Passmore (The Glades), and newcomer Boris Kodjoe (Undercovers).
But a salute to TV gumshoes wouldn’t be complete without honoring the man who helped pioneer the genre, first on Tightrope, then with Mannix, in a career spanning more than half a century. And so at the end of our panel discussion I brought Mike Connors up on stage. Pointing to the young actors who stood behind him, Mike commented, “There’s a lot of talent back there, I’ll tell you that.” “There’s a lot of talent standing next to me too,” I said, pointing to Mike.
Mike greeted each of the panelists, then singled out Boris. “I really would have liked to do the show he’s doing because he starts each show in bed with a beautiful gal, then closes the show in bed with a beautiful gal. I used to open my show running down the street, and close the show by getting hit on the head.” The capacity crowd at the Academy’s Goldenson theatre roared with laughter.
Next it was time to present Mike with a beautifully inscribed plaque. To do the honors, I asked my friend Lee Meriwether (Barnaby Jones) to come up on stage and read the inscription to her long-time pal. But Lee couldn’t resist reminding Mike about the time she was a guest star on Mannix. “Mike you DO remember that you and I DID get into bed. I mean, you weren’t running down the street or being shot at that day.” More laughter from the audience. “I’m glad my wife didn’t show up tonight,” Mike quipped.
Lee read the inscription, then Mike made a prophetic joke. “You know when Jim called and told me about this, I was thrilled, and then I got a little worried because I thought, ‘I wonder if they know something about my health that I don’t know?’ ” [laughter] “So I immediately hung up from talking to Jim and called my doctor.” That remark elicited the biggest laugh of the night. Little did we know that some six years later, Mike would be diagnosed with leukemia, and a week after that, he would be gone. Mike Connors died on January 26. He was 91.
Mike was born Krekor Ohanian, a name he shared with his Armenian father, but in high school he was given the nickname “Touch” by his basketball teammates. After a stint in the Air Force, Touch Connors attended UCLA on a basketball scholarship , where he played for the legendary John Wooden. Hollywood producers began to take note of Mike’s rugged good looks and athletic ability, which he put to good use in one of his earliest films, Five Guns West. The western also marked Roger Corman’s directorial debut. I asked Roger to tell me about Mike.
Longworth: Why did you cast Mike in your first film?
Corman: There was an audition, and I was impressed by him for a number of reasons. First, for a young man with not a great deal of acting experience, he was a very good actor. He was also a tall, good-looking guy with strength, which is what I wanted. And what impressed me was his total dedication to the job. I remember he didn’t know much about riding a horse, but he learned very quickly.
Longworth: You must have liked working with him, because you also cast him in Swamp Women.
Corman: I would forget Swamp Women. Mike wouldn’t want us to talk about Swamp Women. [laughs]
Mike settled down early in his career, marrying Mary Lou Willey in 1949 (they remained together until his death), and he stayed busy throughout the 1950’s, appearing in over a dozen feature films and several TV shows before landing his own series, Tightrope in 1959. The crime drama, about an undercover agent who always bested bad guys by hiding a snub nose pistol in the back of his pants, only lasted a year, but Mike’s three dimensional tough guy persona set a standard for the genre.
Mike returned to the big screen in the early 1960’s, co-starring with actors like Jack Lemmon and Robert Redford, but it was his portrayals of a spy in Kiss the Girls and Make them Die, and a gallant gambler in the remake of Stagecoach, that established him as a leading man. I spoke with my friend Stefanie Powers about her co-star in the stylish 1966 Western.
Powers: I loved working with Mike in Stagecoach. He was so generous as an actor, and so solid in his professionalism. I leaned on him, and he supported me with all his talent.
Ann-Margret also appeared in Stagecoach, and she echoed Stefanie’s sentiments.
Ann-Margret: Mike was such an elegant gentleman, always warm and so kind. He was a good man and wonderful to work with.
A year later, Mike landed his second and most successful TV series, this one about a suave, but tough private eye. Mannix would run for eight seasons under the Desilu banner, and it cemented Connors as a cultural icon. I caught up with several actors who had guest starring roles on Mannix, including M*A*S*H star Mike Farrell, Batman‘s Adam West, Eric Braeden (The Young and the Restless), Clu Gulager (The Virginian), St. Elsewhere‘s Ed Begley, Jr., Bob Colbert (The Time Tunnel), and Dynasty star Linda Evans.
Farrell: I was a fan. I always admired Mike, so I was thrilled as my career began to develop, to get the chance to work on Mannix. And imagine how excited I was to learn on the set that Mike the man was everything he brought to his character on the show.
West: One of my first guest shots after Batman was on Mannix. Mike was a fine and warm friend to many.
Braeden: Mike was one of the nicest guys to work with.
Gulager: Mike was a real professional, and he had a big heart. He had a real kindness and gentleness about him, and he was also a great actor.
Begley: I did a Mannix episode in the early ’70’s, and to say Mike was helpful and kind to me is an understatement. He was way nicer than a star of his stature needed to be, and I’ve been thankful for that many times over the years.
Colbert: Mike was a class act, and I never had a moment with him that wasn’t pleasant. He would under-act. He let the character’s warmth and truth come through. His performance was always subdued, and that gave it power, strength and integrity because of his gentle delivery. Working with Mike was one of the most wonderful experiences of my career.
Evans: Mike lightened the lives of everyone who knew him with his outrageous humor and love of life. He was truly one of a kind.
One celebrity who never appeared on Mannix was Mike’s neighbor and close friend Peter Marshall, long time host of Hollywood Squares. Yet Connors frequently showed up on Marshall’s show.
Longworth: Mike did Hollywood Squares a lot. Is that because you invited him?
Marshall: No, in fact I used to have friends call me all the time wanting to get on Squares, and I told them I had nothing to do with booking.
Longworth: So did Mike not invite you on Mannix
Marshall: Toward the end of the series he said there might be a part for me. And I said, “Is it a good part?”, and Mike said “No.” [laughs])
After Mannix ended its run, Connors himself became a much sought-after guest star in other TV shows, such as Murder She Wrote, and The Love Boat. I asked Angela Lansbury and Gavin MacLeod about working with Mike.
Lansbury: Mike was a joy to work with, and enhanced the quality of every show he appeared in.
MacLeod: Mike was the most “unactorish” actor I ever worked with. He was just like a regular guy who just happened to be making a living acting, and falling into it. He was a joy to be around.
In 1993 Mike re-united with Stefanie Powers for a Hart to Hart movie, but it was also the first time he ever worked with his closest friend, Robert Wagner. Fourteen years later the two men appeared together again, this time in Two and a Half Men. I spoke with RJ a few days after Mike died.
Wagner: We had been friends since the 1950s and had a great relationship. We spent a lot of time together, and played a lot of golf. Everyone had such great respect for Mike. He was a very genuine person, and he gave us all a lot. As an actor, he was dedicated and brought so much to whatever he did. Mike worked hard and was always trying to make it better.
I also spoke with some of my friends who were big fans of Mike Connors, but never had a chance to work with him. Among them, Breaking Bad‘s Bryan Cranston, Matt Bomer (White Collar), and Bill Paxton, whose detective series, Training Day recently premiered on CBS.
Paxton: Mike was great as Mannix. You never caught him acting. When I watched Mannix growing up, I never thought I was watching an actor in a role. Mike Connors WAS Mannix, period. I’d like to think I’m carrying on what he started as a TV crime fighter.
Bomer: Mike was a real role model in the television detective genre. His work was influential on the entire television industry, and he certainly influenced me in the work I did on White Collar.
Cranston: I developed a phone relationship with Mike a couple of years ago, and I told him I was thinking of developing an idea that would bring back one of his TV series, except turning the melodramatic hour long show into a half-hour nostalgic comedy. When I said the only actor we would replace would be him, Mike laughed. He encouraged me to take liberties with his material. He said, “If you can make a show out of an old jalopy, I’m all for it.”
That’s Mike Connors for you. No ego, no professional jealousy, no turf to protect. He exuded strength, and was devoid of pretense. He was also pretty direct, and eternally optimistic, as was evident in the last phone call he made to Peter Marshall.
Marshall: He said “I’ve got leukemia”, then he asked when we could go grab lunch at Lakeside again. The leukemia spread quickly, and he died a few days later.
Reflecting back upon the “TV Crimefighters” event, and talking with Mike’s daughter Dana recently, I’m convinced that Mike was genuinely surprised by the adulation he received that night six years ago at the Academy. That’s because he never put himself up on a pedestal, nor did he want anyone else to do it for him. Still, he was one of my heroes, so it was an honor for me to honor him. His peers felt the same way.
Powers: He was an adorable person with a lovely personality, and a rye sense of humor from which his decency as a human being radiated.
Wagner: Mike was a stand up guy as a father, as a friend, as a husband, and as an actor. He was very special and he gave it a good run. I loved him.
Cranston: His character in Mannix was a formidable guy with a sweet soul. That sums up Mike too.
MacLeod: Nothing seemed to have ever changed him. He was like an old shoe, a handsome old shoe (laughs) but an old shoe.
Colbert: He was a class act. God bless Mike Connors.
Ann-Margret: Mike was a good man. He will be missed.
Marshall: Mike was one of a kind – Krekor Ohanian. I loved him.
Angie Dickinson: I simply adored Mike… handsome, charming, a hunk all the way, and funny as hell. Now he can rest in peace, at least until we all get there to laugh and love again.
Posted March 14, 2017 By Triad TodayRemembering Bill Paxton
On the day my father died, a friend of mine 2,500 miles away stopped filming his TV show, and sent me a personal message: “Jim, I’m sorry about your Dad. I’m sure he must have been quite proud of you. Someone once wrote, ‘Flowers will wilt and tears will dry, but love lives on in reverent memory.’ My sympathy.”
That friend was Bill Paxton, a versatile, multi-talented everyman-turned-actor, -musician, -director, and -documentarian, who never lost sight of his Texas roots or core values, and always seemed to put the needs of others before his own. Billy had the biggest heart of just about anyone I ever met, and in a cruel twist of fate, it was his heart that failed him in the end. He went in for surgery on February 14 to repair a valve, then suffered a stroke eleven days later. He died on February 25. Bill was just 61 years old. He was survived by his wife Louise, and his children James and Lydia.
I first met Billy when he agreed to participate in “A Father’s Day Salute to TV Dads” which I produced and moderated for the Television Academy in June of 2009. He had already appeared in a slew of blockbuster films by then, (Aliens, Terminator, Predator 2, Twister, Apollo 13, Titanic, et al), and now, he was filming the groundbreaking HBO series Big Love in which he played a Mormon with three sister wives and a passel of kids. Joining Bill on stage were eight other iconic TV Dads: Dick Van Dyke, Bryan Cranston, Dick Van Patten, Jon Cryer, Patrick Duffy, Reggie VelJohnson, Stephen Collins, and Michael Gross.
It was a good natured group of guys, among whom there was great chemistry and mutual respect, so I knew I was on safe ground to poke fun at them during my introductory remarks. Of Billy I said, “As an actor his credits are impressive, and at the same time, pitiful. In Tombstone he failed to serve out his term as sheriff. In Apollo 13 he failed to reach the moon. In Titanic he failed to recover a prized jewel. And in one season of Big Love he failed to perform in bed with two of his three wives.” Billy entered the stage laughing, and underneath the thunderous applause he received from the capacity crowd, he said to me, “Thanks Jim. What a great introduction!” In my 45 years of hosting shows and events, no one had ever thanked me for poking fun at them. But that was Bill Paxton. He was not only a great performer, he was also a great audience, and the boy loved to laugh. Strike that. You can’t really call what Billy did, a “laugh”. It was more like a cackle, followed by a big Texas style “Woooo!”.
That night, the Academy audience also discovered that Billy was a master storyteller who could talk about poignant childhood memories or hilariously bawdy incidents with equal aplomb. For example, when asked to recall his favorite TV Dad, Billy went on an hysterical rant about unwed fathers.
Paxton: All the TV Dads I grew up with, something happened to the mother. The wife was out of the picture. The Rifleman. What was the deal there? Did he shoot her by accident? [laughter] And what was the deal with Andy Griffith and Opie? I mean was he a bastard kid? And there was the Courtship of Eddie’s Father. And Uncle Bill on Family Affair. Was he really their uncle or their father? What the hell happened to Aunt Dorothy?
Longworth: You’re really wound up about this.
Paxton: And you’ve got My 3 Sons and William Demarest as Uncle Charlie. What did he do? Knock off the mom to get on the payroll? I mean, you could keep going with this stuff. Ben Cartwright. What was the deal with the cook? [more sustained laughter as Bill’s story built to a crescendo]
And then there was his show-stopping answer to my question about sex ed.
Longworth: Who talked to you about the birds and the bees?
Paxton: I remember I was about 16 years old and I wanted to talk to my dad because I had heard this term, “premature ejaculation”, and I thought I was the only guy on earth who had this problem. (laughter from the audience). So one Saturday morning I rode downtown with my dad who went to pick up his mail at the office. Now I could talk to my dad about anything, so I said, “Dad I think I’ve got this problem.” He said, “What’s the problem son?” And I said, “I think I’ve got premature ejaculation.” Well my dad liked to describe things very graphically, and he said, “Oh son, you don’t have to worry about that. Hell, I used to go off on the nest all the time.”
Academy members were nearly falling out of their seats laughing, while Patrick Duffy, who sat next to Billy, feigned a comic look of shock at what he had just heard. “Woooo! That’s a hard one to follow!” said Billy. And so it was.
The event was a celebration of fathers, both on screen and off, so each TV Dad got to tell something serious about his own real-life father. For Billy that meant talking about his hero and best friend, John Paxton.
Paxton: My dad is the person I measure everyone by. And I’m one of the luckiest guys I know because my dad is still my closest confidant. He was a lumber salesman, always traveling, and one thing he taught me was, “take time to talk to somebody”. He was a social man with great humanity.
The same could be said about John’s son Bill.
In the years following the TV Dads event, Billy and I stayed in touch regularly. Sometimes we saw each other, sometimes we talked by phone, and most times we emailed each other. Sometimes we talked about people we admired, or old TV shows we used to watch. On one occasion, I wrote Bill and told him that Pam and I were spending the evening with Shirley Jones. “I’m so envious,” he said. That scene in the cat house in Elmer Gantry is unforgettable. Talk about sex appeal!” And there was the time I told him that the game show Password had just been released on home video, and our buddy Dick Van Dyke was in one of the episodes. “The Password DVD sounds great. I watched a lot of hours of that as a kid,” he wrote. Billy often talked with me about his work, but never about his individual performances. He always hoped that the Big Love team would win an EMMY, and when the show was cancelled, he wrote, “Jim, we went down swinging for the back fence.” He was also proud of his kids, and gave me a heads-up when James was about to show up in an episode of Billy’s Alamo opus, Texas Rising.
Billy’s last email to me was on February 11. He told me how much he liked the memorial tribute I wrote about our hero Mike Connors (Mannix). And he talked about his new series Training Day. “I’d like to think I’m carrying on what Mike started as a TV Crimefighter”, he said. And in his last sentence he wrote, “Hope you’re watching Training Day!” I told him that Pam and I loved his new show, and that Mike would have loved it too. He didn’t say anything about feeling bad. He didn’t mention being scheduled for surgery on February 14. Eleven days later he was gone.
I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the fact that my friend had died. I put off writing this column because I couldn’t find the words. I turned to some of the folks that Billy and I knew, and they also found it difficult to talk through the shock.
Bruce Dern: Bill was a prince of a guy.
Patrick Duffy: Too good, and way too soon.
Bryan Cranston: Just devastating. He was such a great guy, and a talented actor. Huge loss. Rest well my friend.
Stephen Collins: Such a terrific guy, and incredibly humble about all his success.
Michael Gross: He was indeed a lovely man.
Mary Kay Place: Bill was such a down to earth guy, so kind to everyone. A great human being, no Hollywood BS about him.
Kurt Russell: I don’t know anyone who didn’t love being with Billy. He was flat out one of the good guys. I sure hope it’s in the cards for us to get together again. ‘Till then, I’ll miss him.
Fact is, anyone who knew Billy or watched him perform, will miss him too. Cowboy or cop. Soldier or scamp. William “Bill” Paxton could play them all. But as great as he was an actor, he was an even better person. He was the kind of person who once comforted me by writing, “Flowers will wilt and tears will dry, but love lives on in reverent memory.” Now, I hear Billy speaking those words to me again, only this time, the tears are for him. And when they dry, my memories of Bill Paxton will be of his smile, his compassion, his talent, and that distinctive Texas laugh. “Woooo, Billy!”…you’re a hard act to follow.