|
#18 |
|
Some of My Co-Stars Behaved Like Animals! (But They Were Only Acting Naturally!) |
 Ann gets her first screen kiss at age 13...from a seal! |
Not even Noah worked
with this many animals
By ANN JILLIAN
of TheColumnists.com
I WOULD NEVER kiss and
tell. I'm not the type. I look down on that sort of thing, really.
But--and there is no other way to say this--I have worked with
some real animals in my 40-plus years in show business--and they
obviously have left an impression if they still visit my thoughts
today.
Imagine, if you will, an impressionable youngster, striving to maintain a semblance of professionalism amidst tantrums and outbursts and, sometimes, downright openly aggressive affectionate behavior. It was hard, but I got through it without a scar.
Who should I thank for coming to my aid in times of distress? Luckily, understanding directors and crews helped me in any way they could. The teachers and, of course Mom, kept ever-watchful eyes on the "frisky" characters.
When you come down to it, though, any veteran will tell you, it's the "training." Discipline is so important!
Umm...would it be a sin of "omission" if I left their names unwritten and just referred to them by their character names? Oh, I think it would be O.K. After all, it's not a novel or anything like that...it's a column...what harm could that do? They wouldn't care...well, alrighty then, you talked me into it.
I was only 11 years old when I had to deal with not one, but a number of unruly co-stars. (My luck, I couldn't start out with one, I got a herd!) They had no dialogue, but they were noisy. I was sure they hadn't bathed, I positively got "the vapors" around them. You could usually tell by someone's hair if they were clean, but the hair department sprayed each one's hair a different color, so who knew?
They were nervous, and when the sound department turned on the music through the "playback," they panicked. My poor feet were trampled--every take. (Hey, it was my first movie, too, but I had more grace.) I always thought sheep were gentle little creatures, these guys got angry, and they wasted no time in showing their disapproval. The movie was Walt Disney's, Babes In Toyland, and I was "Little Bo-Peep."
Exactly one year later I began work on my second movie, "Gypsy." Production started on my birthday. Believe it or not, my first movie also started production on my birthday. (Naturally, I thought that was how it was going to be every year after that.) Anyway, this script required that I work with a menagerie: A dog, a monkey and a lamb. Thank goodness the cow was actually a costume that Natalie Wood was in, or I would have died from my allergies.
The dog was a Silky Terrier--small in size, big in dander production. She loved licking my face. Repeatedly. This was not good, I'd break out in itchy welts, my eyes would water and my voice would drop down an octave. You had to love her though, if not her doggy breath. She was a nervous, high-strung little thing--just like the lambs had been. (It's those nerves! They do wild things to animals. Whoo!)
|
with a seal! |
 |
My first screen kiss was next on the agenda. I was 13 and I was ready! This time the venue would be television and the program "Walt Disney's Wonderful World Of Color." My suitor? A sleek, dark-haired, Sammy, The Way-Out Seal.
There was a dog in this one too, but by this time my Mom had discovered a remedy--an occasional antihistamine tablet to help me over the rough spots. Anyway, Sammy didn't affect me that way, and I had fun with him. The kids, Mike McGreevey, Billy Mumy ( of "Lost in Space" fame), and I swam and dived with Sammy in the pool they had built on the set. He was very good with us, and it was pure magic to be frolicking with a citizen of the sea.
Ultimately, we had to release him, or rather a "double" of him who was really wild, into the ocean. The big moment happened at California's Leo Carrillo beach. The seal, as it turned out, was a real ham. He leapt through the waves and onto a rock where another seal was waiting for him. It was really something. He turned to the camera, and taking full command of the scene, honked his goodbyes. In one take, too! A "natural."
Years later, I brought my husband to the same spot and reminisced. Would you believe, a seal of the same color got up on the same rock while I was telling my husband about the moment so many years before? We stood in silence and awe. Could it be? Nah...
When my son was old enough to understand, we told him the story many times and finally took him there. No seal. Wouldn't it be something if he took his child there one day in the future, and a seal stood on the same rock to enchant my grandchild?
 |
 |
|
with so many birds that she often resembled a sexy feather-duster. |
Let's step into my time capsule again and jump ahead to 1967. I was seventeen, still a minor. I was at Universal Studios on an interview to play Ernest Borgnine's and Ann Sothern's niece in " The Blue-Eyed Horse" for "Bob Hope's Chrysler Theatre."
My interviewer is the producer, legendary T.V. writer Hal Kanter. The first reading goes beautifully and I can feel another "credit" being added to my resume. I'm asked to familiarize myself with another scene for a few moments out in the outer office, where my faithful guardian, "Mom," is waiting patiently for me.
Elated, my speedy perusal comes to a screeching halt as I learn that my character has to ride a horse. I don't know how to ride a horse! The last time I was on such an animal was at the Griffith Park pony rides when I was a kid! Quickly, my confidence is replaced with a sick sensation in my stomach. My gaze slowly lands on my mother's intuitive eyes. They were reaffirming and comforting. I told her the predicament. She knew how much I wanted the part.
"What happens if they ask me if I can ride?"
"Say yes", she said in her Old World accent and common sense way, "den, take crash course!"
I got the part.
I got the crash course, too. Being a quick study helps. I soon was riding side-saddle, english saddle, and western saddle, like I "vas born on ranch!"
The day of my scene soon came and I was ready for it. They brought out the horse, a gorgeous animal who towered over me in proud splendor. With every move, he rippled his grand collection of muscles. He was a truly magnificent steed. He knew it. He strutted with regal arrogance. He had "attitude." But so did I...
I was eager to show my newly learned prowess starting with a confident "mount." My teacher told me that you can tell a real "horse woman" by the way they "hold" themselves during the mount. If an actress couldn't do at least that, I thought, she shouldn't be in the profession. Once I felt the rhythm of the horse's gait, it was great fun!
Seeing no stirrups, I asked where the saddle was. They pointed to his back. There, like an earring the size of a postage stamp was the "saddle" I was supposed to sit on! I was not prepared for this. It was a "jockey saddle." I didn't understand that they wanted me to ride in the race! I thought they just wanted me to know how to "ride"! A ladder was brought for me to get on the horse. Drats! I couldn't even show-off my "mount." The horse looked back at me with a knowing smirk.
I kept telling myself to relax. I mastered the other saddles in record breaking time, I'd do this too. Maybe. Placing my feet into the stirrups, my knees were up to my nose. What was wrong with this picture? I became acutely aware I was not "jockey" size. My 5'8" frame was not meant for this contortion!
I also became painfully aware that the "gig" was up. I knew it, the horse knew it, and, very soon, everyone would know it. Because the horse with the attitude turned into the horse with a sense of humor and took off with a maniacal whinny.
While I was bouncing and dangling, I tried to remember to shut my mouth so I wouldn't bite off my tongue. I'd always heard that horses can sense if their rider is not experienced and will take advantage of it. So, I tried to regain my authority, but it's almost impossible to scream "whoa!" and "Oh God!" through clenched teeth. What a revoltin' development this was turning out to be!
What was only a matter of a minute seemed endless to me, and I was soon handing over the reins to the trainer in relief. I wondered if my hands would be scarred for life where I had dug my fingernails into my palms.
I peered at the horse as the stunt double took charge of him. He scraped at the earth below with his eyes downcast, as if he knew his "joyride" was over. Ha!
We were both humbled, and all's well that ends well, and that did. But if you're going to take any crash courses, make sure you take the whole program! Make sure you understand directions completely, or you may end up "bouncing and dangling" in what ever situation you may be in.
My association with animals became so commonplace throughout my career, that whenever a script was sent to me, we immediately searched for any furry friends. It's funny in hindsight, but there could be trouble with those four-legged angels.
Years ago, I did a television
movie that placed me in numerous locations in the city. One such
place was a dwelling in the San Fernando Valley. The occupants
had graciously agreed to allow the filming in their home. As
instructed by my management the prerequisite for selecting the
home was: There must be no dog living there because of my allergic
reactions to dog dander.
 |
 |
|
One of them actually invited her to join the species. |
Apparently, the location scout either failed to ask the question, or didn't take the precaution, because the house that he had selected did, indeed, have a dog. All was not lost, they said they had industrially cleaned the whole place. What they neglected to add was that the dog was let back inside to sleep and roll around on the very furniture I would later be rolling around on, too. With eyes and nose and breathing affected, we had to shut down early for the day, costing quite a bit to the production and my respiratory system, and come back when all symptoms had subsided and the house had been recleaned. An ounce of prevention would have been a pound of cure.
Not all the work experiences with animals were "hairy" though. In fact, with foreknowledge and preparation they created delightful memories for me. Even the challenging ones are now worthy of a good laugh.
In the original company of "Sugar Babies," I was known as the "bird lady of Broadway," because every performance 14 white fantailed pigeons would fly across the stage and land on various parts of my body while I sang the beautiful Jimmy McHugh love ballad, "Love Is For The Warm and Willing." As the soubrette lead, I had many numbers in the show, but this was my favorite. It was either "bee-autiful" for the ladies of the matinees or "hysterical" for the evening performances.
Each bird had a name and was identified by a tiny food-colored dot on its forehead. "Sugar Birdie" was the biggest and would "coo" by my throat when I hit the high note. "Red," on the other hand, always landed on my head, tail facing the audience, and one night I had to lift his tail in a "salute." I finished the song leaning forward. The audience went wild and stopped the show by pounding their feet after the curtain closed and wouldn't stop until I came back out from backstage where I was getting "de-birded." I always wondered who the applause was for, me for being a trouper, the performance, or Red?
How many people can say they danced with an elephant (Circus if the Stars) and shared the same stage with the pachyderm on one of my Johnny Carson show appearances to promote it?
Or, how about the time I hosted a special from Sea World in Orlando, where (besides singing with a symphony orchestra led by the reknowned conductor Bill Conti, who definitely was not an animal ), I had the most incredible time dressing up like an Imperial Penguin and entering their "environment" which is usually off-limits to humans, other than the staff that feeds them. They totally enchanted me! One of them looked me up and down in my "get-up" and lovingly accepted me as one of their own by affectionately leaning on my leg as if he were hugging it. They were adorable!
"I'll Be Home for Christmas" in 97' was the last TV film I did before a self-imposed semi-retirement to spend more time with my family. In it, I played a veterinarian and many of my scenes were with piglets, dogs, and pregnant hogs. I have to smile.
What a business. From Babes
in Toyland to Sugar Babies, from pachyderms to piglets,
I've "paid my dues." Good, bad and everything in between
has filled my life with unusual and memorable moments, and all
in all it has been great! Or should I say... "It's A Living!"
© 2001 by Ann Jillian Murcia. The images are from Ann Jillian's
private collection.
You can comment
on this column or contact Ann Jillian with an email to: talkback@thecolumnists.com
| Home | About Us | Archives | Talkback | Shopping Mall |