Who Says I Can't Ride a Rainbow!

Since I'm probably one of only six people who has actually seen this film, (the other five were probably sitting in the theater with me that day), I guess I should comment on it, just to confirm that it actually exists, or at least existed at one time. When I was 13 years old, I vaguely remember seeing this on a double bill at the Fairfax with Disney's "$1,000,000 Duck." It couldn't have been there for more than a week, if that. I only hazily recall two things about it:

1. There's a scene where a bunch of kids are watching Jack Klugman on television. He is evidently trying to raise money for something or other that has something to do with them.

2. At the time, "The Odd Couple" was a highly rated television series, and I noticed that in this film, he wasn't wearing a toupee like he did on TV.

For the life of me, I cannot recall a single other thing in this movie. Sorry I can't be more helpful.

I remember watching this movie on television at my mother-in-law's house. Always excited to see it not so much because of the plot line, but because the music with by Bobby Scott, a talented composer I was privileged to know personally for a period of time. The print suffers as did so many films from the '70s due by color changes where red and green seemed to dominate. The story was a simple one of a man in New York who owns a stable and decided to teach some handicapped youngsters about life by the simple act of horseback riding. Jack Klugman, most famous for having played Oscar Madison of the TV show "The Odd Couple," turns in his usual sturdy and believable performance. There's nothing exceptional about this film, but it does have the moments of sweetness and a genuine feeling of caring for the characters is evident here. The obvious raspy, yet soulful voice of Bobby Scott is unmistakable, along with his trademark song stylings. This leads me to wonder why the producers of this film made such an obvious mistake in the end credits instead giving the credit for the music to Jimmy Scott (whose voice had more of a light, almost feminine quality. Certainly nothing like Bobby's.)

Bobby was best known within the industry as an arranger, and for writing the songs "A Taste Of Honey" and "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother." I just think that it is a shame that more people don't know his name, although it didn't matter to him personally. He arranged for Bobby Darin and even played for Quincy Jones for the soundtrack of "The Color Purple" yet still so few know him. (By the way, it's his piano work on "Sister" or "Celie's Song." He and Quincy worked together for well over a decade. Jones is infamous for not giving other's credit.)

The film is an unremarkable one, but to it's credit, avoids being saccharine and cutesy. The only other notable point of this movie is that it was the film debut of the great actor Morgan Freeman.

This movie is a stand out, not as a film but as a distant childhood memory.

Any child from Greenwich Village during the '60s remembers this farm -- the pony rides, the corn growing just steps from the cobblestone streets, the chickens. It was an oasis in the heart of the city. What we didn't know was the story that led to the building of the Mitchell-Lama houses on the site.

Whenever I walk down Greenwich or West Streets, I dream of those innocent days when kids actually believed that we could fight city hall and triumph.

Just as a side fact, Edward Mann was my grandfather. David Mann, his son is my uncle and Dara Mann (now married, of course), my mother. A great man, very ingenious... he practically founded the island of Ibiza (where MTV hold their 'Isle of MTV') among other things. Unfortunately, he was always selling his projects to move on to the next and ended up with little money. Alas... I never knew him that well :( Another thing i can tell you is a forwarded memory from my mother: the Oatmeal Scene where they sit around eating oatmeal spanned many takes and they had to continue eating the oatmeal even though by the time of the final take, it was cold and horrible. Oh well, perfectionism runs in the family.