Growing Up Brady: I Was a Teenage Greg, Special Collector's Edition Read Online Free PDF Page B

than four hours or to work more than a ten-hour day,
with a one-hour lunch break. Even my welfare worker turned out
to be quite a babe; and with one-on-one instruction, I could knock
off my daily assignments in less than half the time they'd take back
at school.
    Actually, my abbreviated school schedule did leave me with one
problem: what to do with all my leftover time.
    Being on a full-blown commercial set took care of that. The
place was crammed full of so many technicians, lighting specialists,
cameramen, prop guys, and production types, that I couldn't have
been bored if I tried. I remember that everyone seemed to have
whistles and clipboards, and that they all seemed to take this commercial shooting stuff very seriously. I loved that, and made the
most of my every second of set time. I asked questions of everyone, never stopping until I became a pest. I snooped, I eavesdropped, and I just tried to soak up every bit of ambience the location had to offer.
    I even had time to make friends with my co-star in the spot,
Butch Patrick. Yep, I was working with a bona fide child star"Eddie Munster" himself! I can remember pumping him for infor mation, and cockily thinking to myself, "I'm a much better actor
than he is-how come I'm not on TV?"

    Well, within a year, I was on TV, having landed my first guest
shot in episodic television. I was gonna be on "Run for Your Life," a
mid-sixties drama that starred Ben Gazzara as a terminally ill hero
"trying to cram thirty years of living into his final two." I was to play
a tough New York City street kid, a real rotten little punk. My first
scene took place on an apartment stoop, and consisted of me talking to Mr. Gazzara while I lit matches and used them to burn up
some ants. I remember thinking to myself that even the guys in my
brothers' gang weren't that twisted. Still, this was to be a magical
day.
    It started ridiculously early, for two reasons. Number one, I
had an eight o'clock call time at Universal Studios, which entailed
an hour-and-a-half drive even without L.A. traffic. Number two,
"Run for Your Life" was my Dad's favorite show. This time his
inherent dislike of show business melted under a wave of unbridled fandom. He volunteered to be legal guardian for a day (up
until now it had always been Mom), let his employees run the
business, and, with genuine excitement, made sure I got to the
set plenty early.
    At six-fifteen A.M. my dad and I were on the lot, parked, checked
in, eating breakfast, and more than ready for my eight o'clock call.
I read the paper, dawdled over my donut and juice, and still had
time to get into makeup and wardrobe by seven-twenty.
    At nine o'clock, I was called out of the studio schoolroom and
onto the Universal back lot, where we'd be shooting on one of
those nondescript could-be-anywhere make-believe streets. The
dialogue director approached and told me that he wanted to go
over my lines with me-kid actors are notoriously bad with their
lines. I assured him that I was so happy to get this job, I'd not only
learned my lines but Mr. Gazzara's as well. He was pleased, and
seemed to relax.
    Nine-thirty came and went without a sign of Mr. Gazzara. Ten
o'clock and ten-thirty also passed without him. Finally, at about
five of eleven, with the director fuming, and with production types
gulping down fistfuls of Rolaids, the longest, blackest limousine I'd
ever seen pulled up and glided silently to a stop. My first thought
was that maybe the President had come to visit, but that theory
was quickly shot down when Ben Gazzara slowly and deliberately
exited his stretchmobile.
    When you've only seen someone on television, it's a bit of a
shock to meet him in person. Mr. Gazzara was no exception. He
was larger than life, imposing, and had an almost regal air about
him. He was also late, but made no excuses or apologies, and I remember being impressed at how his simple request for a chair
was passed down through the