My Real Memoir
She was my template, my prototype. But I never knew it. Even as a preschooler, I was embarrassed by her. “Don’t forget to go wee-wee,” she’d say at bedtime. “Nooo, Grandma! It’s pee-pee!” As a teenager, I loudly dressed her down for calling an African American child a “cute little pickinini.” “Honey, they use it,” she replied, “they” being Black people in the little Texas town she’d come from. “Well, not white people, Grandma, and not you! Ever!”
She owned an antique shop next to Grandpa Frank’s glass business in Upland, California. There, dressed in late 19th century garb, she’d interact with her customers as a folksy pioneer woman, always ready with a story. I loved her turn-of-the-century Victrolas and stereoscopes, but cringed at her corny persona.
It wasn’t until her death that I found out who she really was. Johnie Belle Reed had been the fifth of eleven children in sandy Pleasanton, Texas. She lacked direction until, in the 1920s, her family moved to Los Angeles, and she fell in love with another little town called “Hollywood.”
Johnie loved acting, but writing was her greatest passion. She wanted to write and make movies. So she wrote scripts. Lots of them. When no one bought them, she wrote a newspaper column called “Watch Your Words.” And then, after she married a dashing WWI air ace name Frank, she wrote and starred in a radio show, “The Mix-Ups,” with Frank as her befuddled straight-man.
The moment “Frankie and Johnie” (their forever song) produced a striking little redhead, Tavia, Johnie decided to make her a star. Before their second child (my mother) was born, she’d already enrolled their first in dance classes. And by the time long-legged Tavia was eleven, Johnie had gotten her into Meglin Kiddies, Universal Pictures’ training pool for kids.
In 1939, Tavia landed a supporting role in a summer camp musical The Under-Pup, the Mean Girls of its time. It starred Robert Cummings and Gloria Jean, Universal’s new preteen singing star.
Tavia loved the attention, but it was actually my mom who inherited the acting bug. Tavia grew tired of showbiz, even while my future mother was playing Juliet in her school production of Romeo and Juliet.
Two decades later, Johnie was still turning out plays and TV spec scripts. Meanwhile, I arrived and in short order blessed the world by inventing writing, acting and music. When our eighth-grade drama teacher quit, I commandeered the class. Looking for a play to star in, I found an unproduced Danny Thomas Show script written by Grandma Johnie, and it was good! But the show never happened and, blinded by the light of my own ambitions, I quickly forgot about Grandma’s.
A few years later, a new playhouse, the Gallery Theatre, opened in Upland, and Johnie became a co-founding member. In December, 1968, while I was still a newbie theatre major, the Gallery produced her play The Christmas Card. It featured three tunes by her nightclub-singer/songwriter sister Dorie, and was the Gallery’s first big hit!
Excited, she and Dorie started working on an original musical. But when Johnie was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, they were unable to continue. She moved in with us, but her condition progressed quickly, so we transferred her to a care facility. As her memory faded, my visits became increasingly awkward. We barely spoke.
What was there to talk about?
A lot, I know now. But sadly, those visits are long-gone. Grandma Johnie passed away in the fall of 1974. And only afterward, as I went through her scrapbooks, did I finally comprehend that she was the prototype, the mold from which I was made. Even more than my mom, I’d inherited her creative gene for writing, acting and directing. One day, it’ll be my turn to depart…
And, oh, how we’ll talk!
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Very poignant
Thank you, Venus.
What a treasure!
Thank you, Lori.
Goosebumps. I’m working on a manuscript about the legacy of my motherline, what I’ve inherited. Yours is certainly more fascinating than mine!
As an unbiased follower of both you and Mitch, I’d say you’re neck and neck. There are many intrinsic gifts you’re too close to see. 🙂
Memoir on, dear friend!
Nice recollection Mitch. I remember going with you to that theater in Upland so many years ago. It was a fun time. Thanks for the memories.
Hello! Who is this? Unfortunately, WordPress does not reveal your identiy!
Sorry, Its Me- Jeph!
Ah! How cool you remember that, Jeph!
Love it, Mitch. Looking forward to meeting Johnie Belle when you introduce her. She became fascinating when I read the article about the antique shop. Our cultures anxiously race toward an unknown future without learning from the rich resources of people who had even more reason to be anxious, but who used it as fertilizer for growth, fruit and talent. Those who walked with the Master had yet more help we could have benefited from. Blessings, Anne A.
And blessings to you, Anne.
Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. . .
When we are growing up, it is hard for us to see the ways we are molded and shaped. I think that we develope our own tendencies without realizing that they were already being birthed in us before we considered their origins.
I love that you have such a rich treasure of your GM, and the more you share, the more you learn about her, and even yourself.
Looking forward…
Blessings.
Thanks, Pete.
Seems you recognized the gift of Grandma Johnie, that, in of itself is worth celebrating.
Better late than never, I suppose, Randy.
Our parents gives us the gifts that helps us everyday, always appreciate their efforts.
There’s a lot to “nurture vs. nature.” You must have gotten a double whammy of both. 🙂
;>)
Final line: THAT is something to look forward to!
I loved this! How exciting all of you were – acting, movies, writing! Your grandmother was amazing; she never gave up. There must have been so much joy for her in writing. I enjoyed your recollections.
Then I went down the rabbit hole known as The Story Shop! Oh, my goodness! So much good stuff here, and I am so impressed with you! I’m excited to dive into some of this. I have interest in many of your offerings, but I have to go with my inner child and start with Notzilla. 🙂
I can now definitely see she was your template, your prototype. Lovely.
Aww, thank you so much, Maddie.
Lovely memories and story about your grandmother. She sounds like a character that we all would have liked to meet. Blessings, Mitch!
Thank you so much, Peggy.
left off the year prince said to party like it’s
What wonderful memories! I would’ve loved to meet your grandmother.
I wish you could have, Dawn.
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This is beautiful ♥️
Thank you, Meonn.
Dear Mitch, a very thoughtful, truthful commentary on the blindspots some have about their elder flesh and blood…why they do not seek to draw near to know them better–till after they discover the remnants of their lives. I am glad you found the golden links to your grandmother. So much to look forward to talking about…❤️
How right you are, Patricia.