FROM SHOW BIZ TO SUNDAY SCHOOL
Sharon Leann Wyatt’s autobiography
Is It Sexual Harassment, Or Boys Will Be Boys? (Part One)
The next morning mother dropped me in front of Universal International. I was really happy to be on this lot. There was a feeling about the layout of the stages that didn’t give one the feeling of being in canyons of concrete basilisks offering no warmth whatsoever. No, Universal was different. There was an openness to most of the lot and the close proximity of the hills and the back lot was an appealing addition. It was the friendliest of lots so to speak, and I always felt “at home” when working there.
Except once several months before, while dating Mike a makeup man’s nephew. His uncle Bud Westmore wanted me to be the mermaid that was the logo for “Chicken of the Sea” tuna. The commercial sounded good, the money was wonderful, but I learned I would have to bear my breasts to be properly fitted in the “skin.” I refuse! They tried to placate me saying, a nurse would be there, and you could have anyone you wanted present. Swell let’s just invite the world. There was nothing they could do to change my mind. Scratch another opportunity for fame and fortune.
Anyway I made my way from the casting office to the place where I was to get on a bus to take me to the back lot location for that day’s shooting. However, I was about to pass what I believe most women do dread, a group of men. All of these were wearing hard hats, and as I approached I felt one by one each quit doing what ever had occupied him and began to gaze my way. I had no other recourse but to walk right by them. The crisp morning sun was shining in my face, but I was wearing an Italian straw bretton hat, so the sun was not in my eyes. I could see the ‘lynch mob’ preparing to say or do something to cause some embarrassment to me. As expected, when I drew near, one of the “boys” spoke up, “I like your hat.” My heart was in my throat, but I still had my wits about me, and flashed back an answer without missing a beat, amazed at my own boldness, “I like yours too!” His cronies laughed at him and I heard one say, “That cutie is no slouch!” I walked on, undaunted by the interruption and rather pleased with my response, for I knew that a quick biting response does dilute most of these adolescent events.
That day’s work was nice just because we spent the day sitting around the pool eating finger sandwiches and fruit, and sipping tall cool pretend drinks. Here I was introduced to an older crowd know as “Dress Extras.” These are the people who have access to better clothing, and can sport a look of sophistication, as against those who are more grizzled looking and used in Westerns or back alleys. The people I was seated with were somewhat entertaining, and the day passed quickly. I was told stories about my family; that were amusing and fun. I felt better about myself. It was then an actress came on the set and absolutely could not remember one of her lines. She stumbled over every sentence, and no less than 16 takes were made to do one short paragraph. One of the extras seated at our table mused, that she must’ve gone to bed for the job and therefore did not have an interview. Surely any interview would have revealed the fact that the poor thing was illiterate. And so it was that another discouraging day had passed. (continued next month)
On the Envelope: What may this New Year bring?
Turquoise and Rhinestone necklace on back of form (unless it can fit in letter)
Picture of depiction on Revelation 7:9 “The Multitude without number” For front
