The Sunday Memory Drawer - My Acting Debut

Sadly, it did not come at the Hollywood Bowl, despite the fact that I am spotted on that stage in this photo. I won't go into the circumstances of this picture, except to tell you that it was off-season and a visiting friend coerced me into a soupcon of trespassing. But, I digress...

Nope, my debut as a performer came in the fifth grade. My fifth grade French class was putting on a performance of "Le Petit Chapeau Rouge." That's "Little Red Riding Hood" for the non-Jerry Lewis fans in the reading audience. Because I had one of the top three grades in the class, I was a shoo-in for a role. So was this rather chunky girl who would become essentially "Le Petit Chapeau Rouge Tres Grosse." The third role went to another guy.

The teacher saw me in the lead. The wolf. And, in retrospect, I should have relished that. I now envision all the great things I could have done with the part. Perhaps a little Paul Lynde inflection. Maybe Snidley Whiplash. As long as it was spoken in French, I had carte blanche....another French expression.

Until I read the script.

At the end of the show, the woodsman arrives to save Le Petit Chapeau Rouse Tress Grosse by embedding an axe into the wolf's head. As Le Lobo falls dead, the entire cast sings a song over the animal's body and dances merrily around the carcass.

Huh?

In my fifth grade egotistical mind, I was uncomfortably frosted by the ending. Sure it was true to the story. But, if I had developed such a likeable and funny rendition of the Wolf, couldn't he be simply caught? That way, even with paws tied, I could be around for the grand finale. I provided my notes to the teacher, who was unimpressed. Actually freakin' angry.

"Who do you think you are, young man?"

I pushed it. Pretty much providing her with a rewrite of the last scene. Unbeknowst to me, this was her own script which she had used year in and year out for the past decade.

"You will not change a word, young man. Do you want to be the wolf or not?"

Stupidly, I said "no." I was asked to trade roles with the kid playing the woodsman, who turned out to be a delicious scream as the Wolf.

Yes, I was alive for the end as I bulldozed the chubby heroine around the stage in triumphant song. But, the teacher refused to speak to me the rest of the year. Luckily, it was May and we didn't have much longer to go.

At the end of the school term, I still wound up with an "A+" in French. Merci beaucoup.

Dinner last night: Cervelat on sourdough.