Life Is Not a Stage by Florence Henderson (big screen ebook reader .TXT) 📕

in the room there was a jump rope that we used for exercise. My mother grabbed it and demonstrated her prowess. The people on the floor below complained about the noise from the ceiling. When the front desk called, she responded, “Tell them not to worry about it. Think nothing of it!”

I think I inherited some of my mother’s forthrightness. I can also be very frank and spontaneously carefree in what I say and do, but I think it has served me better because I learned to temper it with a little more awareness and sensitivity. A few years later, I invited my mother to see The Sound of Music in Chicago. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, so I told John Meyers preemptively, “Please do not ask my mother anything about my childhood.” We went to dinner after the show, and the first thing John did was turn to my mother. “Elizabeth, tell us what Flo was like as a child.”

My mother looked up and didn’t miss a beat. “Just like a fart in a whirlwind!”

CHAPTER 7The Big Break

The chance to star in the motion picture version was all part of the deal for signing on to go back out on the road for the second season of Oklahoma! The actual filming would be done several months later once the tour came off the road. It was all very rushed, and I was clearly feeling uncomfortable. I had flown out from New York and booked into the Studio Club in Hollywood for the quick one-night stay before having to fly back the next day. The Studio Club was the West Coast equivalent of the Three Arts, a chaperoned dorm where Marilyn Monroe and dozens of other leading ladies passed through in the early part of their careers. The next morning, I reported to the studio at the appointed hour for a screen test.

After makeup and wardrobe, I took my place on the mark on the set indicated by the gaffer’s tape and waited as the crew made the last adjustments. The director was Fred Zinnemann, a four-time Oscar recipient who helmed such classics as High Noon, From Here to Eternity, and later A Man for All Seasons. The man walking around and giving instructions about the lighting was no slouch either, the legendary Academy Award–winning cinematographer Harry Stradling. He filmed virtually all the great leading ladies of Hollywood in the 130 films to his credit, including Easter Parade and many others that I had seen as a child at the movie house in Rockport. And there I stood on the threshold of fulfilling that little girl’s wildest fantasy.

But I didn’t get the part of Laurey in the movie. When I got back to New York to rehearse for the second season of Oklahoma! I discussed the bad news with Jerry White. He told me, “Don’t be depressed about this. In the scheme of things, you’ll see that it’s going to be all right.”

“I’m not depressed,” I told him, although my eyes could not hide the fact that I had been crying. It was the first time in my young career that I did not get something that I wanted. “I’m a little discouraged.” But I assured the director that I would do the second season as I had promised and told him I would make it even better than the first one.

Although the screen test was hurried, they had treated me fairly. I was probably awful. With no experience working in film, I sang with too much intensity, projecting as I normally did to be heard live by hundreds of people. Preparing for this screen test with an acting coach would have been a good idea had I possessed the insight at that age and the luxury of time. But as often was the case, perceived negatives sooner or later turned into positives, as Jerry had promised. One of those pluses was getting back in front of New York audiences for a run at City Center, which generated great reviews. And while the film was not my fate when the season concluded, another dream come true would take its place—the chance to headline a smash Broadway show.

Leaving the touring company after the second season was bittersweet. The experience of being on the road that so many had thought would be a good education for me felt fairly complete. I learned the true meaning of “the show must go on.” You were expected to be there and perform at one hundred percent every night whether you felt sick or had a broken toe, cracked rib, or whatever. Gone were the crazy roommates. And the chapter was closed on the crush on my leading man. The fact that I got to kiss him every night onstage wasn’t so bad. As I mentioned, he was married, but he was very obviously still a player with the ladies. I thought he was great, but my upbringing kicked in to save me many times. Nevertheless, when you are in a long engagement, the crew and your fellow actors become your family. One of the hardest things in our business is always saying goodbye. But then, if we’re lucky, we get to say hello to a whole new group.

Fortunately, leaving Oklahoma! was not the end of my personal relationship with Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein. I was willingly on call to sing whenever they had special events and performances. At one such occasion, they asked me to perform at a private event at the Waldorf for Aly Khan and a big group. Two memories stand out the most. First, it was the first time I ever saw Marilyn Monroe in person, and her beauty more than lived up to the hype. More important, when I was singing “When I Marry Mr. Snow” from Carousel, I knew right away that I had goofed and inverted a couple of lyrics. I also was certain that my transgression would not go by unnoticed. Afterwards, Oscar,