Board & Staff

On May 16th we were escorted into the Presidential Reception Suite of the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History. It was paneled in dark wood, with folding chairs aligned in front of the podium and presentation tables. On these tables sat our treasures, a biophone, defibrillator, and other medical paraphernalia used in the television series "Emergency!" during the 1970's. Many other items had been donated by James O. Page, our Executive Director, and publisher of JEMS Magazine. Two mannequins stood vigil, garbed in helmets and turnout coats worn by series stars Kevin Tighe and Randolph Mantooth. Outside the Museum, Squad 51, the vehicle that carried the concept of pre-hospital emergency care to television viewers throughout the world, sat glistening in the morning sun, having been completely restored to its original, unique beauty.

Among those who had traveled the tortuous path to this incredible moment, I was the only owner of a digital video camera and thus serving as videographer. The camera shook in my hands as I zoomed in on Randy recounting the vision of Robert A. Cinader, who created the show in the belief that it could be much more than just another piece of escapist fare. Now we were living the proof of his vision, twenty-two years after the series had ceased production and eighteen years after his death. Randy had already mentioned all of the people present who participated in Project 51, the engine that drove the machine that had brought us here, and the only figures my camera could find who didn't appear deeply moved, were the mannequins.

Present were Jim Page, President Dan Dingillo, Treasurer Steve Martin and Dick Friend (all current or former members of the Los Angeles County Fire Department), Vice President Gino Grimaldi, Secretary Hannah Shearer and myself ("Emergency!" producers), Jean Cinader (Bob's widow), Cynthia Hawkins (the fan who came up with the inspiration), and Randy.

The project was in the works for over a year, and there were many occasions when it appeared that all of our planning would lead nowhere. Among our major problems, our website was trashed, and the medical props and firefighting wardrobe generously donated to us by Universal Studios for acceptance at the Museum became inaccessible. This latter problem, which would have left Project 51 in shambles, was only resolved ten days before the tour was scheduled to begin.

Project 51 is a non-profit corporation put into existence for the specific purpose of making the donation to the Smithsonian, heightening public awareness of the importance of Emergency Medical Services, and raising money for fire-related charitable contributions. Everyone on the Committee had donated their time. The concept, which changed configuration frequently, was to stop in several cities en route to D.C. and sell enough merchandise to defray our operating expenses while building up the charitable funds. We decided on a trial run in Las Vegas, and then selected the cities of Chicago, New York (Long Island), Baltimore, Hyattsville and Washington D.C. for our two-week road tour. The myriad Board meetings dragged on for five or more hours, because of the constant need to extinguish fires created by others, and to make plans for the very difficult road trip. Then there were other weighty debates such as, "Shall we send out for lunch, or what?" "What kind of food does everybody want?" "I hate Chinese!" "Let's just get sandwiches. No mayo on mine." "What do we do about drinks?" Elapsed time, 30 minutes.

Our biggest internal problem was that we often didn't know what we were doing, amateurs sailing the uncharted waters of business licenses, group travel, publicity, merchandising, cash flow, and event planning. Since nobody was an expert in many of these areas, we all felt free to meddle. Las Vegas was a great learning experience, since it enabled us to put all of our mistakes in one basket. We came away from that with one inviolable truth, that we must forgive each other for our shortcomings. This was especially helpful for me, since my only responsibility consisted of bringing along one piece of paper, which I forgot to do.

The physical operation worked pretty much the same in each city. Through the auspices of the local fire department, we arranged a merchandising event, with Randy the carrot at the end of the stick. People would wait in line to buy items such as T-shirts, posters, photographs, and even fire helmets, then they could get a picture taken with Mr. Mantooth while he autographed their purchases. They could also get an autograph without buying anything.

We had another big draw on the tour - Squad 51, on loan from the County of Los Angeles Fire Museum Association. During the tour the Squad was carried in a fire engine red 75-foot eighteen-wheeler. The couple who drove it, Frank Harris and Pam Graham, could park that thing in places I wouldn't try with my little car. Out would come the Squad, and then we'd start debating about where to put it. Meanwhile, others of our team began setting up tables and pop-ups. Of course, if we changed our minds on where to put the Squad, the location of everything else changed. Meanwhile the fans would start to gather well ahead of the scheduled opening time.

It's time now to introduce the wives, girlfriends and working guests of Project 51. They sold the merchandise and made the people waiting in line feel that waiting three or more hours was worth it.

Meet Colleen Hostetter, Steve Martins' friend, and Project 51's answer to Cindy Crawford. In Las Vegas, Colleen wore one of our T-shirts tied to create a bare midriff style, and they sold fabulously well. I wonder how many people tried them on at home, looked in the mirror, and said, "What happened?" Then there's Nancy Dingillo, Dan's wife, AKA "the bag lady," because she was the one who packaged the purchases and gave each customer a smile that would melt the tiles on the space shuttle. Nancy D. is a stunning blonde with the unerring logic of Gracie Allen, as exemplified when she brought some strangers over to meet Randy at a dinner where we were trying to get off by ourselves. Our other Nancy, Nancy Grimaldi, is a stylish, handsome woman at whom you take one look and say, "If I'd married her, I wouldn't be two times divorced." She and Gino are living proof of that. We had additional help at various stops. Randy's girlfriend Kristen Connors devised a plan in Hyattsville to form a line for those willing to make purchases without procuring Randy's autograph. Hannah's friend Jean Hester, took pictures of Randy with his fans in Las Vegas and Hyattsville. My own girlfriend, Sue Blatty, arrived in time for Hyattsville and jumped right into the fray, instantly becoming part of the team. Steve's son Cody was our mascot.

Steve, Gino and Dan oversaw all aspects of the event, with Gino and Dan supervising restocking of supplies and Steve conducting drawings for free posters for those waiting in line for so many hours. The cash register and credit card machine (both of which failed to function properly on occasion), were operated with aplomb by Cynthia and Hannah. Dick Friend was our good-will ambassador, regaling those in line with stories about the show. Rudy Castro was our official photographer, always there for the important picture, and off in his own world the rest of the time. Gil Garcia, representing the Fire Museum, looked after the Squad and took the digital pictures we posted on our website during the tour.

In Chicago, we were joined by Fire Museum President Paul Schneider and members Paul Oyler, Ron Ripley, and Jordan Pearl. All of them helped us in innumerable ways. My job, at the events and also in between, was to look after Randy. I'd position myself next to his draftsman's table and encourage the fans to keep moving. Randy observed toward the end of the trip that I was the most ineffective bad guy he'd ever seen. I did, however, rise to the occasion in Baltimore, when a young lady began jumping up and down and screaming at the top of her lungs before rushing at Randy and hurling herself in his direction. I grabbed her in a bear hug as she slammed into the table. When she later came back through the line and proclaimed that she was now under control I said, "Good, because otherwise you're going down." Since I outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, this didn't exactly qualify for the bouncer's hall of fame. As Steve said later, "Going down what, the chimney?" I was also assigned to look after Randy between events, which was like putting two amnesiacs together to collaborate on their autobiographies.

The important side of Randolph Mantooth is that he's one of the kindest-hearted people I've ever known. He was a likeable young man when doing the series, but he's matured into a guy who, despite his own popularity, is more concerned about everyone else, most especially his fans. While his autographing schedule was originally to consist of alternating an hour of signing with half an hour off, when he saw the large numbers that turned out he ended up signing for four or five hours at an event with only a couple of ten minute bathroom breaks. In Hyattsville, where we were finally overwhelmed by the number of people in line, he extended the signing period by two and a half hours, and even then was very upset that we couldn't accommodate everyone (we had to leave for a dinner in D.C. put on by the International Association of Firefighters).

We were joined the night before Hyattsville by "Emergency!" co-stars Tim Donnelly, Marco Lopez, Ron Pinkard and Mike Stoker, and they also signed autographs at the event. The fans stormed their signing table.

Our biggest disappointment, especially Randy's, was that Kevin Tighe couldn't be with us. Kevin had planned on participating, and had been involved in much of the preliminary planning. But when he was offered the starring role in a pilot in London, we all assured him that he mustn't miss this wonderful opportunity. Kevin's presence was felt in other ways. He taped a video explaining his absence, which was played at Baltimore Stadium (Camden Yards) where five dollars from each ticket purchased for Firefighters-Paramedics Night was donated to the families of the six firefighters who died in the line of duty in Worchester, Massachusetts. Kevin also wrote a terrific piece for the Smithsonian, based upon his interviews of doctors who were pioneers in the field of EMS. Also greatly missed were Bob Fuller, Bobby Troup, Julie London and Mike Norrell. You were often in our thoughts.

Each city held its own special moments. In Las Vegas we saw that people really would come to see us. Not only that, but they came a long way and were willing to stand in line for hours just for a few minutes of making purchases and sharing their feelings about the show. It was here that we met the USAR girls for the first time, so named because they wore T-shirts supporting Randy's proposed new series about Urban Search and Rescue. Then there was the woman who had traveled with her daughter who had been diagnosed with a learning disability. This woman later wrote a letter that we will never forget. In part it said, " Finding that one thing that motivated her to doing her best and working for better was a challenge until she discovered that I was watching "Emergency!" after she went to bed. This TV watching time became our time and she discovered her one thing: Wanting to be a Paramedic Firefighter." She added about the Las Vegas experience, "We all took something home with us besides pictures, T-shirts, HotWheels hats and autographs. We took home a memory that you helped to create. Now every one of these people is sharing the tangible and intangible gifts of this meeting with everyone they came in contact with."

In Chicago, the Fire Department had recently lost one of their own in the line of duty, and his funeral was scheduled at the same time as our event at their training center. We arrived to see one of the engines draped in bunting, and had difficulty concentrating on our own preparations. We certainly didn't expect much in the way of assistance from these grieving firefighters. But, as Steve Martin says, "By the end of the day, when they returned, and saw all the people at their training center, they seemed to forget about the sadness of the day and got caught up in all the excitement of our event. That meant a lot to a guy from the fire service." Chicago is also the city where we realized that in one sense we were more like a band of gypsies than ambassadors for EMS. We returned to our hotel after the first day with messages in our rooms that our Project 51 credit card had bounced. We all avoided the front desk for two days until we sold enough merchandise to pay the bill and get out of town. Incidentally, getting out of town with Hannah was no easy matter, since she seemed to have more luggage than a basketball team. We all kidded her about it until the Dingillos arrived with twice as much. We may have traveled coach, but we traveled heavy.

One of our more distinctive adventures in New York took place on the day we arrived. Randy's girlfriend Kristen picked him up outside the hotel while some of us were sitting in Hoolihan's across the street. A couple of our gang ran out and flagged down the car to say hello while one of us, inside the restaurant, gave them what I will delicately describe as a back-sided salute through the restaurant's window. As Gino said, no one present on the corner of 42nd and Lexington is ever likely to forget that moment.

We held the New York event in Long Beach, Long Island, and it was the only time we experienced rain, which held down attendance considerably. We moved inside the station and the firefighters and volunteers were most gracious in helping any way they could. Those fans who did show up, and there were several hundred, were terrific. One of the nice aspects of the situation was that we had a little more time to visit with them. Also, because there are number of volunteer departments on Long Island, we were able to get many perspectives about the firefighting profession. A recurring theme, which we encountered in every city we visited, is that a great many people in the fire service and/or EMS went into that profession at least in part because of our series. I don't think Randy enjoyed autographing anything quite so much as firefighters' battle scarred helmets. We've come to believe, to our amazement, that at almost any firehouse in the country someone will mention "Emergency!" as his or her inspiration. We heard this praise so many times, and of course never tired of it, but by the time we toured the While House in D.C., one of us commented that Bill Clinton probably decided to become President of the United States because of the show.

In Baltimore we were treated like royalty, thanks to Evelyn Ehlers, who is the Director of Special Events for the Orioles. We were met at the train station by three white stretch limos and five police motorcycles, and then sped through the middle of downtown with red lights and sirens. Steve had the driver of his car open the sun roof, so that Cody could stick his head out. He was quite a sight, hair blowing in the wind, with motorcycles whizzing past. The next day we were leaving the hotel for the Preakness Parade, where Randy was to be Grand Marshall, and Cody asked his dad if they were taking the limo. Steve replied, "No, we're walking." Back to reality, kid.

The first night in Baltimore we attended the Orioles-Red Sox game, where Randy threw out the first ball. They first played a tape on Diamondvision showing Randy driving Squad 51 out of Station 51, then segued to Randy actually driving out of the tunnel and around the ballpark warning track. During the game we sat in the owner's luxury suite and ate crab cakes and hot dogs. I kept looking at Cynthia, without whom there would be no tour at all, and wondered how it must feel to be an "Emergency!" fan from Atlanta who motivated and led a group of LACo Fire Department and entertainment professionals to the promised land. Cynthia was also our E-commerce expert, so not only did she launch the boat, but she also was a major factor in keeping it afloat.

Next stop Hyattsville, which was a triumph. Thousands of people attended the fire department's event, at which we were the featured attraction. They had done a superb job of promotion over the internet, and were very well organized. As mentioned earlier, the very size of the crowd presented our biggest logistical problem. The line just kept getting longer and longer, no matter how we tried to streamline things (only one autograph per person, pictures taken without coming around the table to stand next to Randy). Once again the fans outclassed us. Some had stood in line for three to four hours, and when we tried to apologize for the delay, many thanked us for taking the trouble to come. Everyone working in the sales booth had experienced this first in Chicago, and heard it again here.

At the IAFF dinner, there were several guests who would take part in the Smithsonian ceremony the next day. Committee members Jean Cinader and Jim Page had now joined our group. In addition, we were honored by the presence of Los Angeles County Fire Department's Fire Chief P. Michael Freeman and his wife Cathy, Dr. J. Michael Criley who pioneered the Los Angeles County and City paramedic programs, Dr. Eugene Nagel (with Joan) who performed the same heroic function in Miami, and Dr. Ron Stewart who had given us so much expert guidance when we did the series.

And we were never without the fans, in our minds and in our hearts. Their support and stories of inspiration kept us going during the dark times. Before returning to the Smithsonian, I'd like to share an excerpt from an "Emergency!" news group posting. "My Dad was a member and assistant chief of our local volunteer FD. Back in the late 60's and early 70's he knew of the advances being made in emergency medical care and was working on upgrading our ambulance crew's training with very limited success. Then "Emergency!" happened. Now at the town meeting he could point to this show and say "This is what I'm talking about." In October of 1974 he suffered a heart attack during a structure fine. No one else in either the FD or PD knew CPR. My Dad didn't make it to the hospital. At the 1975 town meeting the Chief once again pointed to Emergency! and said 'This was what Tug believed we could accomplish here. We owe it to him to see it through."

So our hearts were full as we sat in the Smithsonian during speeches by Dr. Spencer Crew (Director of the National Museum of American History), Dr. Ramunus Kondratas (Curator, Division of Science Medicine and Society National Museum of American History Smithsonian Institution), Chief Freeman, and Dr.'s Criley and Nagel. And then it was Randy's turn. As we took pictures afterwards, Pam of the transporter team turned to Gino and said, "This is the most beautiful moment of my life."

Time now to go outside to the Squad, which Paul Schneider and the other members of the Fire Museum have graciously asked us to sign.

You first, Randy. Here's the pen. Sign right on the passenger side, where you always rode. We know you've got to be feeling lonely without your best friend Kevin, but we'll get him later on the driver's side. We promise.

Tim, Marco, Mike, Ron, your autographs please. You were the glue that held "Emergency!" together all those years.

You guys from the Fire Museum, step right up. When you heard about problems that threatened the success of the project, you told us you had us covered. And you did. And this wonderful Squad, once ours, and now she's yours, but you've made us a part of her forever with this signing. Paul, Jim, Opie, Ron, Jordan and Gil, thank you so very much.

Doctors Criley, Nagel and Stewart, we trust your handwriting is better than that of most physicians, because we don't want any doubt about your presence. Your involvement is like having the Wright Brothers endorse an airline for meritorious service in advancing the future of aviation.

Rudy Castro, a lot of us didn't know you before the trip and now consider you a great friend. We'll take the picture this time, you just sign.

Dick Friend, you were PIO for the LACo Fire Department during the production of "Emergency!" and always kept the show honest. Having driven the new Engine 51, along with Mike Stoker, from Washington to Los Angeles in 1973, along the way spreading word about paramedics to municipalities across the country, this has to be an extra-special moment. You've come full circle. Don't forget to dot the "I" in Friend.

Cynthia Hawkins, you've proven not only that your own dreams can come true, but that you can inspire others to dream as well. And it has come true, and your name on the Squad is proof.

Jim (pro bono) Page, you're the only person to sign twice, as you deserve to do as Executive Director of Project 51 and the Fire Museum. You arrived with the project in the nick of time, guiding us sure handedly through a multitude of legal and organizational entanglements.

Assistant Chief Dan Dingillo, you overcame the pain of mandatory medical retirement to continue serving proudly as our President. You also did the dirty work, the heavy lifting in regaining control of what was rightfully ours. And you still look damn good in that uniform. Sign in please.

Here comes Captain Steve Martin right behind you. Stick that big chest out, Steve, you brushed aside personal attacks on your integrity and your career to do what was right for the project. And thanks for that raucous sense of humor. If you'd lost that, we'd all have lost a great deal. After you sign, you and Dan might want to snap a salute to Fire Chief Freeman, since we all know that without his trust in our ability to pull this off we wouldn't be here. And let's salute Richard Houts, the Chief of the Department when the series was proposed. A lot of men wouldn't have taken the chance.

Hannah Shearer, part mongoose, part mother hen, all heart. You would have killed to protect any one of us, and may have killed anyway. You did all the thankless paperwork and handled the website as well. Just look at the minutes of our meetings (which you took), and many items up for discussion are annotated with, "Shearer will handle." Signing the bay of Squad 51 is your last assignment. Don't worry, we reserved a spot near the bottom, so you could reach it.

Gino Grimaldi, you're the man whose dedication to making this day happen, in honor of Robert Cinader, shamed a friend and fellow member of the Committee into retracting his resignation. You, among many other things, handled all those changing travel arrangements without committing suicide, further testament to your tenacity. Take this pen with pride, because you've finally found a way to say a proper goodbye to your beloved mentor.

Jean Cinader, we've saved you for last because you're first in our hearts. Because you are here, Bob is here. You were always part of "Emergency!" but now carry an added burden. While it must be wonderful to hear Bob praised so often and completely, surely there is also a heightened sense of loss. Please know that you'll always have us.

Guess that's it. I don't think anyone who participated on this day will ever again say, "See you at the big one." Project 51 was our big one. And we answered the bell.

Keep coming back! There's more memoirs to come!

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