The Ultimate Stage Mother

Me as the original "Bunny"

I will have to admit, my mother was the ultimate 'Stage Mother' from the day I arrived here on earth until she realized I would never, ever become a famous movie star, in fact not even a bit player. 

Like all babies, my photo was taken over and over by my father and of course by the local baby-photographer.  One such formal photo was entered in a 'Beautiful Baby' contest and mine won the first prize of a Blue Ribbon.  Maybe that was not such a good omen after all.

         
Mother soon entered me in the local dance-tumbling school for children toddlers and up.  I did somersaults, splits, back-bends and more which were lots of fun.  Soon I was learning to tap-dance in a lineup of other toddlers getting ready for our first  family attended recital.   As long as I watched the others in the lineup I managed to keep in step which must have impressed my parents enough to let me continue the classes.

         
Since mother was such an adept seamstress (only working for her own pleasure, not for an income) she created costumes fit for a movie star.  I guess you could say I was the very first official 'Bunny" as I was entered in the Fox Theater movie auditions in Pomona, California.  None of the other kids in the dance class had such a costume.  But of course there was a one-on-one interview and mother's hopes were let down when I was too shy to audibly answer questions.  I was four years old.

         
Apparently I had encouraged the audition by my solo tap-dance in a Little Dutch Girl costume mother had created and my dance teacher had urged mother:  "Do sign her up for the Fox Theater audition."  At least this allowed my parents to agree for continued dance lessons.  There followed the Mexican Hat Dance solo at age five, a costume that at age seven won me a first prize on Halloween at the local roller skating rink.  It was a ceramic lamp that my little sister kicked over years later and it broke in a million pieces.
         
My next exciting performance was on the stage in the Agriculture building  at the  Los Angeles County  Fair Grounds wearing mother's creation of a Rumba Costume. That performance went down in history as a total flop since I left the stage in the middle.  Mother must have been doing her best not to be angry:  "It's alright, everyone thought you were real cute."  I'm not so sure about that.
         
Did mother give up?  Not in your life!  Since my father's sister Helen was married to the doctor on set for Shirley Temple it was bound to happen that mother would convince Auntie Helen to make appointments at the various movie studio audition offices.  My father drove me to Los Angeles (quite a trip in those days all the way from Pomona prior to freeways) and I stayed in a hotel room with my Auntie the night before the auditions.  The traffic noise on the street below, the neon lights flickering off and on, and the sound of the then electric-street-cars along the tracks proved to be a restless night for both of us.  I awakened in the morning with my legs wrapped around Auntie's neck, a story she repeated to me again and again over the years following.
         

Age 4 

The day of the auditions seems as if it was yesterday.  As a five year old I was mortified to say the least.  The old, fat men who handled the auditions and the overly made up women who sat at the reception desks were enough to scare anyone, especially a kid.  Each audition my Auntie would sit in the waiting room. "Jean, you have to speak up when you're asked questions."  After repeating this routine several times, I finally got up my nerve.  When I left that audition, the last one of the day, Auntie said: "Betty Jean, I didn't mean you had to yell."

 

That last audition did impress a little.  Not long after, a talent scout came to our house at 1175 West Forth Street bringing a child size chair, little table and play telephone.  Again and again, the phone would ring and I had to answer and repeat what he told me to say.  After several replays, he told mother something like:  "Don't call us, we'll call you."  Oh well, I did get to keep the props and I was really glad the ordeal was over.  Did mother give up?  No, she just changed to the idea that I might become a famous musician thus the piano teacher, Miss Egg, followed by the Clarinet teacher and finally my cousin teaching me to play the trumpet which at least afforded me to be in the Fremont School Marching Band and a one-time participant in the famous Rose Bowl Parade in Pasadena.  Lastly, I tried out for a part in a stage play at Fremont Jr. High School, however didn't get the part.  Actually, that was fine with me.  I would rather work behind the scene on props and spend my spare time hiking in the mountains or roller skating.

          
Can you imagine what it would have been like for me if "Toddlers and Tiaras" had been popular during my childhood?  Not a pretty picture.  This is one time I'm especially happy that I was born more than half a century too soon.