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

the promoter and told him what happened. He said I could go if I could find someone to fill in for me. Jerry Vale, who had a string of pop hits in the 1950s and 1960s, graciously agreed to step in for me. I gratefully told the promoter I’d be happy to come back for the same salary if my new show became a hit. I would keep that promise.

CHAPTER 16Brady-monium

The English used to be able to boast, “The sun never sets on the British Empire.” Similarly, I can say, “The curtain never falls on The Brady Bunch.”

At this moment, someone somewhere in the world is watching The Brady Bunch. Since the show debuted on September 26, 1969, it has been continuously broadcast in the United States and overseas in over 122 countries as one of the most beloved television series of all time. Full-set compilations of the show sell in steady numbers. You couldn’t kill it with a stick. Some people writing fan letters today from former Communist countries go so far as to assume that the shows are brand-new—outmoded clothes and hairstyles and glaring lack of computers or cell phones notwithstanding.

Many people think those few years on The Brady Bunch are basically the sum total of my career. In reality, the show was but a small part of my list of credits, but because of its lasting power, it is never going to go away. Such is the enormous power and penetration of the media. Many people would also assume that I could write several books on just the Brady Bunch experience alone. Because so much has been written about the history and impact of the show already, I am not going to attempt that. In reality, it was not so chock full of dramatic stories as one might be led to believe. We were a cast and crew that cared about each other like family, and we made sure to have a good measure of fun to balance the drama that life serves up. But it was hard work and long hours that were fairly routine day in and day out. In fact, some of the fondest memories I will share are of the things that deviated from the norm, especially when we shot on location.

Without the chance to play the role of Carol Brady, I don’t think the Smithsonian Institution would have honored me as a “cultural icon,” nor would Entertainment Weekly and TV Land use that same word, ranking me as one of their top 100 TV “icons” of all time. Unbelievable. All this came as the result of an opportunity that I was lukewarm at best about doing at the start.

What in fact excited me most about coming back to Hollywood to do the pilot was the chance to work with John Rich. From the time I was a child, I loved being around people who knew what they were doing and were masters of their profession. John was high up in that category. I’ve always loved working with strong directors, and John was both strong and tough. Those qualities came to the forefront quickly once we got down to work. And not everyone appreciated it as I did.

From those first scenes together in the pilot, Robert Reed (portraying my husband, Mike) proved himself immediately to be both a terrific actor and a very complex man. Gene Hackman was originally tested for the role, which I would have loved. Most of the time, Bob was a delightful curmudgeon on the set. He was extremely well educated and cultured, having attended Northwestern University and studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London (which also qualified him to be a certified royal pain in the butt!). On top of that, he was a classical pianist. Conflicts and issues that were apparent from the first day of work went fairly unresolved throughout the years we worked together. Behind most of it was his attitude—he wanted the show to be Shakespeare, more worthy of his training and skill. “Bob, it’s a sitcom,” I’d have to remind him whenever the matter reared its head, which it did regularly.

The tension mounted as we were filming the pilot.

“Cut…Don’t do it that way!” John shouted to Bob. As John could be, he was loud and direct, and it was more than obvious that Bob was getting angry. We had been doing a love scene that had gone fine in rehearsal but wasn’t working to John’s liking the way Bob was doing it. I felt I had to step in and do something.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I said to Bob. I had suddenly realized the source of the problem. I left him and walked out of camera range and took John off to the side.

“John, just back off,” I told the director. “Don’t say anything or make a big deal about this, but Bob’s gay. He’s nervous about this scene.” I told him that I knew how to handle it. I went back on the set and we started up again. I don’t remember specifically what I said to Bob, but I took extra care with him to make sure he felt comfortable. In that moment, I tried to love him as hard as I could and make him feel great. I wanted him to feel romantic and sexy as all get out. And perhaps, if he knew that I was comfortable about him and his sexuality, he didn’t have to be afraid of playing that role. I don’t think the crew caught on to this in the beginning like I had, but most did as the show went on.

Every time we’d do a romantic scene, the same nervousness would come up. We’d laugh as he came on set in his pajamas. I think on those days he would frequently self-medicate by drinking more than usual at lunchtime.

After a few days, we finished the pilot and all went our separate ways. There was nothing so extraordinarily special