Speaking of Ann B., what a tremendous professional she was to work with and what a great friend she became. I probably spent more time together with her off camera than with anyone else in the production, hanging out at her home that overlooked the San Fernando Valley. One day, she took me aside and said, “You have to learn how to conserve your energy.” I was constantly moving around and talking. It was hard for me to sit still, but Ann B. had a solution for me. She taught me how to do needlepoint. I loved doing it, and the creations made great gifts for family and friends, usually in the form of pillows with floral designs. I was hardly an expert, however. On one trip back to New York when I went to put my things away for landing, I was slightly embarrassed to discover that I had found a way to sew the needlepoint onto my skirt.
Needlepoint aside, being on a popular television series changes your life, in some fairly absurd ways. You can be a big star on Broadway, but still many people outside of the Great White Way have no idea who you are. Get on a hit series that people really embrace, and your life will never quite be the same.
After the show had been on for a short while, I took Lizzie for a walk in Central Park. Some children recognized me and crowded around us.
“Mrs. Brady, can I have your autograph?”
Lizzie tugged at my coat. “Mommy, tell them you’re not Mrs. Brady. Tell them that we’re your real kids.” From that moment forward, I had to think twice about going out in public with them. I was comfortable for myself, but I didn’t want them to deal with all that kind of attention and feel diminished by it in any way. So for family outings to Disneyland, they’d have to go without me for the duration—and I always regretted that I couldn’t be the one taking them.
Ironically, it was a trip to another amusement park, Kings Island in Cincinnati, that opened my eyes to just how wildly popular the show had become. The episodes shot on location were for me the most fun and memorable, a nice break from the in-studio daily routine. The park was somehow or another owned by the Paramount conglomerate at the time, so some marketing whiz thought it would be a great cross-promotion and big publicity for the newly opened attraction and their hit television show. We had previously done three-part episodes at the Grand Canyon and in Hawaii, but not among the crowds like at Kings Island. The people there in America’s heartland went crazy over us like we were rock stars. Forget about sleep at the hotel in the park. Security, what security? Did such a thing exist in the early 1970s? The kids found out where we were and were banging on our doors at all hours of the night. A similar mob scene happened at Disney World, but I was there solo and sans Bradys as one of the first people to perform at Top of the World when the place first opened.
The excitement of getting out of the studio to film at Kings Island, Hawaii, and the Grand Canyon is the easy answer whenever anyone asks me what my favorite episodes are. However, it could sometimes get a little too exciting outside the comfort zone of the studio. Accidents can happen anywhere, even on our set, as poor little Susan Olsen found out in our pilot episode. She got bonked in the face by a falling light fixture and needed a little extra makeup to mask the black and blue. But each of those location shoots had at least one major hair-raising moment we could have lived without. Stunt doubles, where were you when we needed you?
First, there was the roller-coaster scene at Kings Island. Bob refused to go on it because he was terrified of them. So who was going to go in his place? Me. If you watch that scene, you will see a horror-struck look on my face. It was not acting. Nor was it when Ann B. was thrown on top of me whenever we went around a curve. But what you don’t see is the blood running down the cameraman’s face. To get the shot, they first strapped him across from us on the back of the car. That didn’t work, so they sat him facing us in the seat in front of us. On the first big drop, the camera went flying and hit him in the face. With the bleeding stopped and the camera finally stabilized for everyone’s safety, we had to shoot another take. Not fun!
Now, about the Grand Canyon, let me say that the name is well deserved because it is deep, very deep, especially looking down a sheer cliff on a narrow trail while sitting on top of a very large mule. The scene called for all nine of us to ride the trail mules down a bit on the trail. A mule skinner named Al was in front, followed by Bob, Ann B., and the children. I brought up the rear. I am not an animal psychologist, so I do not know if it is possible for mules to have a “bad day.” But if one could, this was truly an awful one. In fact, my mule may have been having suicidal thoughts, judging by the way it was leaning over the edge and looking straight down. I didn’t want to be dragged along as a part of its death wish. The cameras were rolling.
“Al!” I
