ELVIS COMES TO TOWN!!!

ELVIS PRESLEY AT THE FLORIDA
                      THEATER

A very young Elvis Presley came to the Florida Theater in Sarasota when I was in the eighth grade.  He was just starting his career and had not yet become the greatest star on the planet. Since I was unsophisticated and never trendy, Elvis had barely registered on my consciousness. Not so for my friend Rosie and a few other "with it" young girls--they got tickets immediately. After the concert they walked up to Badgers Drugstore on Five Points, talking excitedly about Elvis all the way.  The girls were enraptured as well they might be.

When they arrived at Badgers, there was Elvis having a Coke.  Barriers had been put up around the soon-to-be superstar.  Rosie's mouth dropped open as she gazed upon her idol in the flesh.  Now Rosie had strawberry blonde hair and the face of an angel and for an eighth grader, she was remarkably well-developed.  None of these facts escaped the young, virile Elvis who flashed Rosie his dazzling smile and beckoned her over.  Even Rosie herself no longer remembers their brief conversation, but she does recall that Elvis kissed her.  Really kissed her.  I would have been shocked at anything less.  I wish it had been me.

THE SIREN CALL OF THE THEATRE, Part II

Nellie Forbush and Ngana de Becque

 Playing that small role in South Pacific was the most fun I had ever had!  Richard, the little boy who played my brother, and I worked with the musical director and the choreographer and a lady who spoke perfect French.  Rehearsals flew by and suddenly it was Dress Rehearsal.  Since I had pale Irish skin, everything that showed was covered in golden brown makeup.  I wore a sarong, but I was no Dorothy Lamour.  The costume lady put it most succinctly.  "You've got nothing to hold it up."  I hung my head in shame.  But the director, who was passing by, said, "She's a little girl.  She's not supposed to have breasts."  Relieved, I raised my head and saw someone I didn't recognize in the mirror--someone exotic and very tan.  Someone with huge made up brown eyes and flowers in her hair. Someone who sang, danced and spoke French.  I was........not me.

Years later The Players revived South Pacific and I was in the opening night audience.  The curtain opened and there onstage were two children singing "Dites-moi" and doing a little dance together.  And I suddenly realized that it had never mattered that we didn't sing or dance very well or speak perfect French.  We were there to set the scene, to make a charming introduction to an enchanted evening of theatre magic that would stay forever fresh.  Unexpected tears came to my eyes.

THE SIREN CALL OF THE THEATER, Part I

The last scene of the film South Pacific

When I was twelve years old, The Players of Sarasota decided to present one of the all-time great musicals, South Pacific.  My mother had a beautiful lyric soprano voice and had played the leads in all her Catholic school musicals.  She assumed she was too old for the lead, Nellie Forbush, but being in the chorus was fine with her.  I had never gone to a community theater tryout before, so I went along.  Mom was nervous, but sang beautifully. I was entranced by all the beautiful voices.  Toward the end of the auditions a lady came up to me and asked if I would like to try out.  I was speechless.  My mother said with a smile, "She doesn't sing."  I had inherited my father's singing voice--none--but suddenly I wanted very much to try out.  I stood up and walked onto the stage.  I smiled at the pianist and announced that I had no music, but I would sing anyway.  I launched into a loud rendition of Dungaree Doll, a pop song of the day.  Since I was not at all musical, I was spared the realization of just how bad I was.  My mother appeared to have gone into shock.  I finished my song to loud applause and actually curtsied.  A few days later my mother received a call from the director.  "Oh, I see," she said.  "All right.  Yes, I will."  "Did you get cast?"  My mother looked at me as if she didn't quite know who I was.  "No," she said.  "You did."

I had been cast as Ngana, the Eurasian daughter of the lead, Emile de Becque.  I had to sing, dance and speak French and I could do none of the three.  I didn't care; I was starstruck.

                                                                  

MY PARENTS APPARENTLY HAD SEX

Really?

They did what?

When I was eleven, my mother announced she was pregnant!

             



How could this have happened? Goodness knows, I had seen Binky get married many times and I had a vague idea that something similar occurred with humans. But when I tried to picture this with people, it seemed silly and rather uncomfortable.  Why in the world would my parents want to do such a thing?  They already had three children!  And my parents seemed quite surprised that another baby was on the way.  Could people do this strange thing without realizing it?  I knew they slept in the same bed so maybe one of them kind of fell into the other while asleep.  This situation was certainly perplexing.

But as the months wore on I tried not to think about the actual making of the baby, but instead focused on how lovely it would be to have a baby in the house.  My mother grew larger.  Much larger.  Baby clothes were bought.  A good friend gave us her crib because she already had five kids and she would never, ever have another.  Ever.  Finally, the ninth month was upon us.  I was in the seventh grade and had just played a Chinese girl named Heart's Delight in a play called Fun and the Feast of the Lanterns.  However, this exciting event receded into the background when the due date approached.  At last, Dad took Mom to the hospital and a darling baby boy was born whom they named James Russell.  When baby Jimmy came home, I instantly adored him. Ricky and Billy were disappointed to see that the baby was too little to play with them and their interest waned considerably. But I remained besotted!

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Movie Poster

Charlton Heston & James Stewart

Betty Hutton & Cornel Wilde

The Greatest Show on Earth won the Oscar for Best Picture in 1952. And part of it was made in Sarasota the year before.  The  Ringling Brothers Circus wintered in Sarasota and many famous circus families made their homes in our town.

So when Sarasota heard that big stars like Charlton Heston, Jimmy Stewart, Cornel Wilde and Betty Hutton were coming to our town to make a movie about the circus, we were, collectively, over the moon.  I particularly admired Mr. Heston (and I admired him even more years later when I saw him nearly naked in Planet of the Apes.)  I was sure that I was destined to be an actress due to my early success playing a Mother Hen in the first grade.  This triumph coupled with the fact that I had been a beautiful child who had modeled in New York assured me that show business was in my near future.  The mirror told me that my early childhood beauty had faded quite a bit and I had entered an "awkward stage" (from which I was never to emerge), but I felt sure that directors would see beyond my current failings and I could be the next child star. So when I heard that school children and townspeople were needed as extras in the circus scenes, I knew that fate had smiled on me.  As the big day approached I grew more and more excited.  The night before my film debut I went to bed early so that I would be well rested.  And besides I felt very tired.  Very tired indeed.  I remember my father taking my temperature in the middle of the night before I drifted off again into troubled sleep.  When morning came I was told that I had a high fever and was quite ill.  There was no possibility of my going on the school field trip to the movie set.  I was heartbroken and cried all day.

My father stayed home from work with me and my mother took our camera to the movie set.  Since Mom was quite the beauty, she had no trouble snapping photos of Charlton Heston, Jimmy Stewart and Cornel Wilde.  Somehow, Betty Hutton and Gloria Graham were left out of her picture spree.  Eagerly, we waited for the film to be developed (this was in the Olden Days.)  And finally, there they were--the smiling black and white images of Stewart, Heston (fully clothed) and Wilde.  We had the pictures for years until they faded at last into obscurity.

RIDING THE BUS IN THE SOUTH IN 1950

It was an unbearably hot afternoon in Sarasota, Florida in 1950.  Dad had dropped us off downtown.  Since my brothers were only two and three, this involved a stroller and a lot of paraphernalia.  I was barely seven and thought I was grown.  Mom had several bags from different stores and I was pushing Billy in the stroller. Ricky was trailing behind as he was fascinated by small town life; this wasn't New York, that was clear.  Mom spotted the bus and ran to the corner, calling for us to hurry.  This was exciting stuff as we had not ridden the city bus before.  Mom lifted Billy out of the stroller, folded it up and pushed it up onto the bus, then herded us on.  Mom was beautiful, but at the moment she was covered with sweat and her curly red hair had turned to damp frizz.  She looked completely frazzled.  She carried her packages to the back seat of the bus which went all the way across and set them down.  Then she took the stroller and put that behind the seat in front of her.  We kids sat down on the back seat, the boys fussy and whining, me thinking I was going to die from the heat.  At last, Mom sat down in the middle of the long seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ma'am, you can't sit there,"  said the bus driver.

"Why not?  I need the space!"  She was in no mood to be trifled with.

"The back of the bus is for the Colored.  You must be from out of town."

All eyes were upon us.  Mom muttered, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." The bus driver was implacable.  "You have to move, Ma'am."

"That is ridiculous.  I am hot and exhausted and I am not moving.  We should all sit wherever we want to"

Silence fell.  The bus pulled away.  Right on, Mama.





  

MY DOG BINKY

Binky was part of our family for years; it was as if she had always been there.  We children loved Binky, but this dog had a hard life. She never saw a vet, never had a shot, never had dog food and most important of all, was never spayed.  I am horrified when I remember all this, but this was how dogs were treated in the early Fifties in the South.  They ate table scraps.  They didn't get shots for rabies.  And they had many litters of puppies.  With staggering frequency my mother would announce that Binky was "in heat" and we couldn't let her out. This warning was entirely unnecessary because we children knew that when Binky's admirers assembled outside, panting and looking very intent, puppies were not far behind.  Binky had no interest in her many suitors who came in all shapes and sizes and were incredibly persistent.  But the poor dog had to take care of business and she had no collar or leash, so we children were to guard her virtue during her brief trips outside.  You will not be surprised to learn that our efforts met with an astounding lack of success as eager male canines jockeyed for position, hoping to gain Binky's favors, which of course they always did.  My little brothers and I would run around the yard yelling, "Binky's getting married again!" as we attempted to block contact.  One memorable afternoon our long-suffering Binky had had enough of these brief serial marriages and just decided to go in the house.  As she attempted this Binky belatedly realized that a very small dog had.....become attached to her as it were.  Although he was doing his very best, he was so tiny that Binky had not realized anything was happening.  When she did, Binky decided to teach her little boyfriend a lesson he would never forget.  She began to run around the yard, whipping him about (quite against his will) and refused to release the poor little guy who looked like he was riding the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.  The other dogs could only watch, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.  They hadn't had this much fun since marrying Binky a few minutes before.  We children were convulsed with laughter until we saw our mother who wasn't laughing.  She insisted Binky let go of her temporary lover and get into the house right now!  Binky strolled inside very much in command of the situation and the poor little dog staggered away.  He probably had to go into therapy. When Binky gave birth to eight puppies, we noticed that each puppy looked entirely different from his siblings.  And one of them was very,very small.