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Joe Mannix

Created by William Link and Richard Levinson
Developed for Television by Bruce Geller

“If you’re not gonna pull that trigger immediately, mind if I have a cigarette?”
— Joe in “To the Swiftest Death”

Your classic American hard-boiled private eye, television division. And I mean classic in every sense of the word. Accept no substitutes. “the eternal eye,” someone tagged him. Iconic, I say.

Oh, there were flashier dicks, smarter dicks, and quirkier dicks. Trendier dicks. More popular dicks. And certainly better written dicks. But if there was a Mount Rushmore for TV eyes, JOE MANNIX would be front and center. As played by rugged Amernian-American actor Mike Connors, he was the ultimate TV eye — tough, decent and loyal, and more than willing to mix it up if he had to.

How tough was he? According to J.R. Sanders, mystery writer and long-time fan, “In the eight years he was on, he was knocked out physically or by drugs 93 times. He was shot 18 times. He was knocked down and woozy many times but got right back up ready for more.”

Formerly the dubious pride of Intertect, a high-tech detective firm based on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles, Joe left after the first season to start his own agency where he relied less on the sophisticated gadgetry and databases of Intertect and more on his own wits and a wicked right hook. This Korean War veteran (and P.O.W.) was remarkably even-tempered and seems to take fist fights, high-speed car chases and bullet wounds in stride.

Although his chiseled good looks, snazzy convertible — with a car phone!– and dizzying array of loud sports jackets attracted a seemingly endless stream of beautiful women, he remained a bachelor. The only woman who was a constant presence in his life was his ever-faithful (and much-kidnapped) secretary, Peggy Fair. But she didn’t even come along until the second season, after he had left Intertect.

Although, to tell the truth, it was the first season that really shined. Originally Joe was a hotshot op for Intertect, a high-tech, ultra-modern Pinkerton-like high-tech detective agency headed by Lew Wickersham. Where Lew was a white-collar, straight company man, Mannix was a rough-and-tumble loner with his heart on his sleeve and a loaded gat. It was the Continental Op versus IBM.

The friction (and mutual respect) between Joe and Lew was milked for all it was worth, and gave the show an edge most P.I. shows could only dream of, as Wickersham rattled on and on about databases, company reputations and computer analysis, while Mannix’s M.O. often seemed to consist mostly of hunches, fistfights, and an occasional gun battle.

In “You Can Get Killed Out There,” an episode near the end of the first season, Joe and Lew’s differences boil over and Joe leaves Intertect rather than accept an assignment. The following episode, “Another Final Exit,” had Joe cutting all ties with Intertect. And yet, not many viewers seems to remember the first season. Perhaps because that first season was at least originally rarely included in the syndication package.

By the second episode of the second season, “The Silent Cry,” the Mannix most of us remember was firmly in place. The one-man agency in the swanky, Spanish-style office in a well-to-do area of LA, with Gail Fisher in her regular role as faithful receptionist and secretary Peggy, the widow of a police officer killed in the line of duty, and the mother of one son, Toby. One of the first African-Americans to become a regular cast member in an American drama, Peggy made quite an impression.

In fact, the relationship betweeen employee and employer — chiding and occasionally at odds, but always respectful and professional and even at time affectionate — have lead many (okay, me) over the years to speculate on whether Joe and Peggy were “doing it”, and to suspect that CBS didn’t reveal the relationship due to the “racial sensitivities” of the time. Me? I’ve always suspected they were just getting it on during commercials, so as not to interfere with the case. Or ratings.

But whatever. There was certainly affection and respect there, and Peggy was an integral part of the agency, more than simply a secretary, running background checks, brainstorming with Joe and frequently rescuing Joe from the local hospital, or bailing him out of the local hoosegow. And she could be counted on to be threatened or kidnapped once or twice a season, just to keep things rolling.

Not that Joe had completely turned his back on technology, mind you. He did have a car phone — something extrememly rare at the time. And the fans loved it. And Joe. During its long run it was always a popular show.

But eventually CBS, possibly corncerned about ongoing complaints about the show’s violence, did what various hoods and thugs never quite managed. They cancelled Joe’s ticket in the mid-seventies.

But by then, the airwaves were alive with a new, less violent and slightly hipper (or at least more colourful) breed of TV dicks. Blind dicks (Longstreet), fat dicks (Cannon), con artist dicks (Rockford), grumpy ex-cop dicks (Harry O), and even old dicks (Barnaby Jones) were all the rage. Mannix’s own producers, Ivan Goff and Ben Roberts, would even return, with an even more successful show, featuring bimbo dicks (Charlie’s Angels).

Suddenly, Joe seemed a little bit like a dinosaur. All he did was solve cases. For many, the idea of a hard-boiled private eye like Joe suddenly seemed old-fashioned, even quaint. And so Joe, like a two-fisted Puff the Magic Dragon, quietly slipped into his cave…

But for eight glorious seasons, that would be enough for many of us. More than enough.

Ironically, it was Mannix‘s very success that had revived the P.I. genre in the first place. Before Mannix, the genre had been treading water for the most part, tripping over its own gimmicks (77BourbonStreetEye, anyone?) and regurgitated copies of copies.

By humanizing and subtly updating the private eye, bringing him unapologetically into the sixties (and seventies), while still respecting the roots of the genre, Mannix paved the way for all who would succeed him–and replace him.

As Connors himself once mused (in Ric Meyers’ Murder On the Air) somewhere out there “Mannix is still working…there was a decency and a dignity about the man…”

THE WILDERNESS YEARS

Turns out Ric was right.

Mannix’s no-muss, no-fuss status as an affably generic TV eye made him all the easier to play with. Joe first popped up about halfway through his own show’s original run in an October 1971 episode of Here’s Lucy, of all places. The ep’s title, “Lucy and Mannix Are Held Hostage,” pretty much gave the plot away: Lucy accidentally witnesses a burglary, and her worried brother-in-law Harry hires Mannix to protect her, but when the detective arrives at her apartment, Lucy–in typical Lucy fashion–mistakes Joe for one of the criminals, and K.O.s him with a vase. When Mannix recovers consciousness, he discovers that the real criminals have arrived and tied both Lucy and him to a couple of chairs. Hilarity, predictably, ensues. It’s an unlikely pairing, to be sure, but it works. Well, sorta.

In March 1976, Joe returned to television less than a year after Mannix was cancelled, on a Bob Hope Special, subtitled “Joys.”  It was a full-length spoof of Jaws, that featured nearly fifty actors, comedians and other “stars,” mostly playing themselves. They’re all invited to a party at Bob Hope’s house, only to be attacked by a great white shark. Connors has a brief cameo as Joe Mannix, alongside several other TV detectives (including David Janssen as Harry O), hired by Hope to crack the case. Yes, it was horrible.

It took a while (over twenty years), but Mannix finally got a little respect, when Connors stepped back into Joe’s gumshoes in an episode of Diagnosis Murder. Sure, the show was a lighthearted piece of fluff, following Dr. Mark Sloan (played by Dick Van Dyke), a teaching physician who somehow becomes deeply involved in crime-solving in his role as consultant to the local police department. Sort of a Murder, He Prescribed, with a scary similiarity to Matlock, starring an equally beloved, former sitcom star. But in “Hard-Boiled Murder,” one of the few episodes that interested me, Mannix teamed up with his “old friend” Dr. Sloan to solve a 25-year-old murder case. What made it really interesting was that scenes from a 1973 Mannix episode, “Little Girl Lost” are used in the flashback sequences. Pernell Roberts and Beverly Garland reprise their guest-starring roles from the original episode as Mannix, in an attempt to honour a promise he made to a little girl (now a grown journalist) to track down her father’s killer. When Joe arrives at Community General Hospital with a bullet wound, he runs into Mark and together they work the case. Meanwhile, the good doctor uncovers a more serious health risk while treating Mannix for his bullet wound and strongly advises him to take immediate action — a warning Mannix promptly chooses to ignore. It’s gimmicky as hell, and nowhere as good as it could have been, but it was good to see Joe back in the saddle, being treated with some respect. And Joe, being Joe, rises to the occasion.

Seems you can’t keep a good dick down.

TALK ABOUT THE FASHION

Check out how many TV private eyes STILL wear heavily patterned, tweed sports coats… even in balmy Southern California. James Garner even used to occasionally gripe about that “darn Mannix jacket.”

THE EVIDENCE

THE ULTIMATE QUOTE

UNDER OATH

TOUGH GUY, HUH?

CAR TALK

THERE WAS MUSIC IN THE AIR

TYPOGRAPHICALLY SPEAKING

THE ADDRESS BOOK

TELEVISION


TELEVISION: THE CAMEOS

FILMS

NOVELIZATIONS

FURTHER INVESTIGATION

Respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith. The caricature is by Angelo Torres from the July 1972 issue of MAD Magazine. Mannix was parodied in MAD not once, but twice — that’s how popular it was.

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