Lessons from the Mountain Page 17

  Melissa was cast as the bad witch and I was the good witch. Or as the review of the MOW said, I was “the dumb witch.” Another turn unstoned, but I didn’t care. I had a blast on the shoot.

  We worked for Stephen J. Cannell Productions, and I found out how generous a production company could be. I had heard Lorimar was frugal, as evidenced in our salaries—cheap, cheap! To give you an idea, Willie Aames, as Tommy Bradford on Eight Is Enough, made more in his first year than I did in my sixth.

  Midnight Offerings was a class act and I learned a lot about being a producer from Stephen J. Cannell. When I produced and directed later in life, I adopted his set policies and felt I treated my crew in the manner I had witnessed from him years earlier. He treated his crew well. For example, there was always food available at craft services; pizzas were brought in on night shoots, even when it wasn’t an official break.

  Melissa Sue was the star. When we met, her familiar blond hair I knew from Little House was different. Her hair was short and dark, but her stunning blue eyes were the same. Melissa smoked, drank Tab, and—to my recollection—ate carrot sticks. She was thin; I was not. She seemed bold and confident. She smoked outright; I hid in my trailer, avoiding disapproval at all costs. She was about my age, nineteen when we filmed Offerings, but dated older men. She was dating Frank Sinatra Jr. at the time. I had barely dated. She drove a Mercedes; I drove a Honda Prelude. She was savvy and sophisticated. I was still a geek.

  In one scene, Melissa points at me and her powers launch me across the room and into boards piled up against a far wall. I fall to the ground and try to “battle” her with my weak witchy ways. This was the scene they wanted to use for publicity pictures, so there was a photographer on the set when we filmed.

  Melissa Sue gave me her evil-witch eye, and pointed her power-wielding finger at me. I glared bravely back. The photographer started clicking…and then we started to giggle. Off and on, I’d lose control and break into my cackle, recover, then she’d bust out and we’d lose it all over again. The entire photo shoot had to be taken in between our breakups. I love those pictures: my favorite is the one of Melissa-the-evil-witch completely doubled over in laughter.

  I love being on a set, and working with people who come together against the odds to make something creative. We were treated really well, and I was happy to be there. I felt special in this new experience. It wasn’t always an easy shoot, but I learned so much.

  This movie challenged me in a new way. As the particular scene drew near, Rod asked me how I was going to do “the scream.” I went into frozen-I-haven’t-got-a-clue mode. I had never had to scream before. There were no evil crows attacking me on Walton’s Mountain. No screaming there, and my real-life parents never raised their voices. It was just not done.

  Rod encouraged me to go ahead and just yell. I did my best, but it sounded stifled. I felt lame once again and sad that I’d let Rod down with my fear of the unknown.

  Patrick Cassidy played David Sterling, the love interest. It was one of his first jobs in the business and I remember rehearsing lines a lot with him. He was nervous and I could relate to that. He was very sweet and we joked a lot. I teased him about being so “Beverly Hills” and called him a snob. He gave me a Gucci key chain for a wrap present. Now that’s a sense of humor. The joke was on me, because I was so un–Beverly Hills I didn’t know what it was. Valley girl strikes again. I wish I had been as creative in my wrap presents. I gave Melissa a kitchen witch.

  I’ll never forget when Patrick’s mom, Shirley Jones, came to the set. I was really scared and hid most of the time she was there. I mean—hello—Mrs. Partridge was on our set, watching me work—how intimidating. She was nothing but nice. I wish I had spoken to her more.

  Patrick and I stayed in touch over the years, and I went to see his local plays, and on Broadway years later. He really grew into a seasoned professional. I felt proud to have been there at the start. It’s fascinating to watch people grow in their lives and careers. No one can take away the memories of those early days working together. I cherish them.

  Marion Ross was Emily Moore in Midnight Offerings. I enjoyed working with “Mrs. C.” from Happy Days, and had the pleasure of being with Marion over the years at different events, then working together years later on Where There’s a Will and recently on an episode of The New Adventures of Old Christine. She is a delight, a hoot, and very naughty sometimes. She made our set, and everywhere I have ever been with her, a joy. I adore her.

  BURNED AT THE STAKE

  We were filming at a high school near the beach, and early one morning, driving to the set, I could only see about six feet in front of my car. This Southern California “marine layer” rolls in at night and back out to sea the next morning several months of the year. It was so dense, it was dangerous, and I was relieved I made it to the set.

  We filmed all day and into the night. As the sun went down, the thick fog rolled in again, perfect for our supernatural flick.

  We were filming the climactic moment when Melissa’s character tries to kill me. I was “tied” to the school bonfire pit, with only her powers gluing me to the stake. She had on her witch makeup and a black cloak, and Héctor Figueroa’s lighting made the fog even more menacing for an eerie effect that many productions have to use machines to generate. It was totally cool.

  I had to scream again, and really went for it this time. It was easier now, though. I was pinned to a burning bonfire, after all. I broke an old mold and screamed my lungs out. Years later, I was cast in more horror films. Have scream, will act.

  Melissa and I finished late that night, and we had to be back early the next morning. I lived over an hour away, in good weather, and I knew that by the time I got home through the fog, it would almost be time to turn around and come back. So I decided to stay the night somewhere close.

  Melissa decided to join me. Cool, a sleepover! Since we were unprepared, we went around to the different departments looking for overnight items we could borrow. We walked over to the makeup trailer and got a hairbrush, some shampoo, and makeup remover, then some pajamas from the wardrobe department. Someone even gave us some cigarettes.

  We made a reservation in a small motel near the beach, nothing fancy. We drove over, and when we checked in, the woman at the desk gave us the oddest look. I followed her gaze and realized Melissa still had her witch makeup on. We must have looked the pair.

  We cracked up as we let ourselves into the room. We lit up cigarettes and talked and laughed and smoked and talked. We talked about being on shows and working as a kid. We shared what our sets were like and wearing the wardrobe on a period show. Yuck!

  No one knows what it’s like to work as a kid better than another kid actor. It’s an unspoken bond I have experienced with most child performers I have met. Sitting in that motel room in borrowed pj’s, we joked about the “glamour” of show business and what they’d say if “they could see us now.”

  We didn’t want to, but we finally got into our beds because we had an early call time. Gradually we grew quiet, waiting for sleep, and then…the foghorn blew. We cracked up again. We knew that foghorn wasn’t about to stop with how socked in the coastline was. We tried our best to go to sleep, but I remember laughing every time it blew, every few minutes, all night long.

  The next morning, we took our glamorous selves to the supermarket and bought frozen egg rolls and some other food for later that day to share with Patrick. We thought we could heat them up in our dressing room. Now that’s a “glamorous” life. I enjoyed every moment of it.

  When Midnight Offerings aired and I got a negative review, some of my Walton family was not surprised. Sometimes I felt they didn’t want me to leave the mountain, either. I was just glad to have gotten off it for a brief moment. Will’s words of advice to be grateful for the Walton gig were etched in my head, but I also understood wanting to stretch your wings.

  GOING HOME

  I went back to Walton’s Mountain for many more adventures. In our last
seasons, we tackled some tough subject matters I am proud to have been a part of. In “The Obstacle” (Season 7), John-Boy’s college roommate, Mike Paxton, played by Dennis Redfield, returns to the mountain a paraplegic.

  The family welcomes his return, and in their unique ways help him transition back into normalcy. Jim Bob rigs a car for him to drive, Daddy offers a father’s wisdom, and even Grandma inspires him to work through physical challenges by the example of her own stroke. When Erin and Mary Ellen help him get a job at Pickett’s, he overcomes his feelings of worthlessness.

  Our World War II shows aired shortly after the war in Vietnam came to an end. Disabled veterans from that war wrote me, wishing there were girls like Erin in their own town who would dare touch a disabled man, or look at them without staring in pity. They shared how tough it was to find work, date, and be seen as a whole person, and not just a guy in a wheelchair. They appreciated the hope the story line gave them.

  The show addressed many other important issues at a crucial time for America. In “The First Casualty,” Erin’s beau G.W. Haines dies in a training maneuver. A few years ago, I met a man who had been in charge of training new recruits for twenty years. He told me that after seeing that episode, he vowed never to have an accident or death on his field, and he never did. His pride and incredible deed left me speechless. It’s amazing how many lives the show touched.

  PAYBACK TIME

  I was twenty, a home owner, and an actress. My mom had helped me pick out a house in Northridge. I lived close to her, but not so far out I couldn’t drive to Hollywood and Burbank for auditions. Since my father had passed, I took on more family responsibility. My mother was still grieving, and I felt it was important to stay close to take care of her and my siblings.

  I tried to share my good fortune, and a renewed sense of giving back settled into my bones. I had contributed financially to my family before, but my parents never used any of my income to support them. There were only two times my dad asked me if I wanted to help out. Once to buy a diving board and sweeper for our pool; the other was to purchase a motor home. We had always rented a motor home for our yearly trips; now we owned one. I was proud to be able to help out.

  I felt I should also give something back to make up for all the time the show kept me away from my family. The trip to New York that John took with Will, me, and the other Walton kids was one opportunity, and so fun for both of us.

  My oldest brother, Michael, was away at school, so I couldn’t take him anywhere. But my little sister, who had just lost her daddy, was still home. She was the baby of the family and we all felt the need to care for her in our father’s absence. Mom was not doing well in her grief, so John, Michael, and I took up the slack. John took our sister out with her friends to try to make up for losing Dad. I tried to teach her all the things I knew Mom wouldn’t. I felt like I owed my family and wanted to make it okay for them. I had promised my dad we would all take care of each other. I worked hard to fulfill that promise.

  I also felt like I owed them for taking attention away from them. I heard a story that broke my heart. My sister had a play date with a girl who only came to our house to meet me.

  I had so much going on in my own schedule and with my own inner struggles, I had no idea that ever happened. This “friend” causing her pain added to the guilt I felt. To make amends, I took my sister everywhere I could. On trips, to parties, the Rose Bowl parade, out with my friends, and later we went to New Zealand and Tahiti to visit our brother, who had moved there for work. I still felt it was not enough. No matter what I did, I couldn’t make it up to everyone. This sentiment seeped into my acting career as well.

  OFF THE MOUNTAIN

  In 1981, we finished our ninth season and wrapped just like every other year, said our good-byes and our promises to “see you next season.” Our ratings had actually gone up a bit, so we were satisfied our season was successful.

  Then one day my phone rang. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  My heart sank and I thought, Oh no, now who died? I said, “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard the news and I thought of you immediately. Are you all right? Did you know?”

  I didn’t know. No one at CBS or the production company had told any of us. After spending over half my life working for them, I learned that the network had announced the show’s cancellation in a newspaper article.

  All day, I continued to get “condolence” calls. It was like someone had died, made even harder by the callous way we found out. We mourned the end of the show, but how do you end something you have spent most of your life working on? How do you say good-bye to your family of cast and crew when there is no set to go back to, nowhere to assemble and hug and reminisce?

  Then the bigger question hit me. How do you move on when you know nothing else? This road had ended. Whether I wanted to be or not, I was off the mountain, left to wander back to the only road I had left. The Mary life.

  But who was Mary, and what road was she on?

  Little did I know the road would be filled with boulders, potholes, and even a little quicksand.

  8

  BUT ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS ACT!

  To say the least, the cancellation of the show was a surprise and a social shock for me. As much as I wrestled with my identity, so much of my life and my point of reference in life were all from The Waltons. My identity was the show. I was lost and didn’t know what to do with myself.

  At first, it seemed like a natural ending. I knew I wanted to act, so my goal was to keep working. I try not to have regrets in life, but I do wish someone had just packed me up and shipped me off to college and dorm life. I had the grades and was a good student. I know my life would have changed course if that had happened, and the hopeless romantic in me wonders what I could have achieved. But I also know there are no accidents in life—everything happens for a reason—so I dreamed of an alternate me in school somewhere back East, while the other me was in this California life.

  I did take college courses, but when I landed a job, I left school and my classes unfinished. My professors didn’t allow the distance learning, like I’d grown up with. They required I attend every session. In those days, agents didn’t want their actors to take vacations, let alone go away for four years. This was before Jodie Foster went away to Yale and then came back to the business, proving it’s possible to finish a degree and still be useful to the business. Now it’s not only acceptable to take time for college, it’s embraced.

  Jodie was a star; I wasn’t. My agents, publicists, and managers pressured me to focus on getting work. So I stayed in town, not wanting to miss an audition. I didn’t have a big enough name to decide how my life should go. I was still bending to the authority figures. I started the uphill climb to keep working in the field I had grown to love.

  All I wanted was to be a successful adult in the industry. I came really close. I continued to work, guest starring in many episodics such as The Love Boat, Picket Fences, Hunter, and Diagnosis Murder. My agent said I was a good actress, and was getting good feedback, but they went “another way.”

  THE EYE AND ME

  I had considered CBS my home, my family network. While on The Waltons, I was flown to affiliate dinners in San Francisco, New Orleans, and Washington, D.C. to promote the show. I felt like a princess. I carried my pen, briefcase, and even had cuff links with the eye logo on them. I felt like a team player and was proud to be a part of the CBS “family.”

  Once a year, CBS always puts on lavish spreads for anyone working for them, and the L.A. dinner was usually in May, on my birthday weekend. I always went until the year when I turned eighteen. I informed the representative from the network I wasn’t going, because it was my birthday and I was going out with my friends, instead. Well, I got a meadow of flowers from the president of CBS with a note wishing me a happy birthday and that he couldn’t wait to see me at the dinner. I got the message. Dutiful daughter went to the dinner.

  Now that my worth to t
hem was over…there would be no more flowers. Betrayed by the company I had felt loyalty to, given half my life, I couldn’t even get an interview for a pilot. Why couldn’t they at least let me try? I doubted myself, but I vowed to work harder.

  AGAINST TYPE

  When Mark Morrison interviewed me for US Magazine, he asked if The Waltons was the apex of my career. I was speechless. My greatest fear, spoken out loud.

  Now that fear was becoming a reality. I was typecast as the “all-American girl.” I hoped the producers and directors from The Waltons would remember me and let me read for their new shows, but that never happened. It felt like everyone wanted distance from the show and from me. It was tough, and I took it personally. The community was gone, and the feeling of being personally rejected set in. I doubted myself and tried to get even thinner than I already was, thinking maybe it was my body that didn’t fit in.

  I went back to getting injections and eating eight hundred calories a day. I lost about fifteen pounds, became weak and felt terrible, but I was proud. Now I would fit in. I went to see my new agent. Maybe he’d like me better thinner and would send me on more auditions.

  He looked at me and said, “Now, I think five more pounds and we may be getting close.” I was devastated, angry, and hungry. All that starving, no acknowledgment, and I’m still not enough? My rebellion kicked in. Another yo-yo.

  KENTUCKY

  When I was twenty, I spent a month in Kentucky for a movie I never actually worked in. The director was very cagey and there was a lot of mystery surrounding the film. I auditioned along with a few other actresses, and the director kept a few of us. I called my agent and she said, “Stay. He hasn’t cast the film yet.” So I did, for over two weeks. He didn’t cast me, and the movie was never finished, but I ended up spending another few weeks at the Lexington Marriott Hotel. I even went to the Kentucky Derby while I was there. It was a crazy experience and might have been a waste of time, except I met some people I’ll always cherish. José Ferrer was the star of the film. He told so many great stories about working as an actor, I still share them with my students. What a treat.