Read Online Could It Be Forever? My Story by David Cassidy - Free Book Online
Authors: David Cassidy
Ads: Link
most expensive shop in town and make him owe it to me!
My dad said that no one had given him money when he was young, and he expected me to do exactly as he had done. And you know what? I eventually paid him back every cent.
My relationship with my father was very strange, but I developed a good relationship with Shirley. Anyone who knows her knows it would be hard not to like her. She is a wonderful human being.
But when I was 18, my dad – who hadn’t really been a part of my life at all up to that point – suddenly decided he was going to be my father. In Irvington-on-Hudson he laid down all sorts of ground rules for me that I’d never had when I lived with my mom.
There was always a lot of friction between us. And heaven help me if I told him I’d done something like arrive at an audition 15 minutes late. He’d rage, ‘You don’t show up for an eight o’clock call at eight-fifteen! That’s unprofessional!’
And I’d be like, ‘Give me a break, Dad. I’m
not
a professional yet. I’m 18 years old.’
But he was stubborn. And I was stubborn.
Shaun Cassidy: The trait David and our father shared is the acknowledged self-destructive streak. That’s the negative. He also has our father’s great humour and great charm and great charisma when he wants to. I think David has very specific aspects of our father but I think all of us have some. I see as much ofmy father in Patrick and Ryan as I do in David. The parts of our dad that David has might be the more theatrical parts and the more obvious ones. I would say I have the least amount of similarities on the surface but I think I’m a writer because of my father. He always wanted to be a writer and actually wrote a script. He was a sponge for knowledge. He educated himself and surrounded himself with smart people. And I have followed the same course. I don’t think I do it consciously, but that’s obviously a gift I got from him.
Dad and Shirley went on the road for previews of
Maggie Flynn
prior to its scheduled October 1968 opening at the ANTA Theater in New York. They were out of town when I got hired for my first real professional job in a new Broadway musical comedy,
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
with Barry Nelson, Dorothy Loudon and Jenny O’Hara. It was being staged by George Abbott, the legendary octogenarian director/writer/producer, who had worked in past years with both my parents. I was in four scenes and got to sing two songs with Dorothy Loudon.
My dad and Shirley were thrilled when I telephoned them with the news. Then I telephoned my employers and declared I’d never be going back to that hated job. ‘Send my final cheque to my home. No, better yet, keep my cheque!’ I told them. What did I need with a cheque for $38.80? I was being offered $175 a week – a veritable fortune – to appear in a show staged by George Abbott. In a career spanning five decades, Abbott had worked on more Broadway hits –
Pal Joey
,
On the Town
,
Pajama Game
,
Damn Yankees
,
A FunnyThing Happened on the Way to the Forum
and countless others – than probably anyone else in the business. I could imagine
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
running for many years to come, and me collecting those huge $175 cheques week after endless week. At 18, I had a good imagination.
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
opened at Broadway’s Broadhurst Theater on 2 January 1969. It closed on 4 January 1969.
My dad and Shirley’s show,
Maggie Flynn,
didn’t fare all that much better. Shirley’s popularity as a film star helped generate some ticket sales, but not enough. By mid-January we were all out of work. My dad and Shirley decided to return to California.
Fortunately for me, while we were doing previews in Philadelphia for
Fig Leaves . . .
a casting director from CBS films had seen me and wanted me to screen-test for a movie he was casting. So two days after we closed on Broadway I was on a plane back to Hollywood.
5 California Dreamin’
R uth began managing my career for real.
My dad said that no one had given him money when he was young, and he expected me to do exactly as he had done. And you know what? I eventually paid him back every cent.
My relationship with my father was very strange, but I developed a good relationship with Shirley. Anyone who knows her knows it would be hard not to like her. She is a wonderful human being.
But when I was 18, my dad – who hadn’t really been a part of my life at all up to that point – suddenly decided he was going to be my father. In Irvington-on-Hudson he laid down all sorts of ground rules for me that I’d never had when I lived with my mom.
There was always a lot of friction between us. And heaven help me if I told him I’d done something like arrive at an audition 15 minutes late. He’d rage, ‘You don’t show up for an eight o’clock call at eight-fifteen! That’s unprofessional!’
And I’d be like, ‘Give me a break, Dad. I’m
not
a professional yet. I’m 18 years old.’
But he was stubborn. And I was stubborn.
Shaun Cassidy: The trait David and our father shared is the acknowledged self-destructive streak. That’s the negative. He also has our father’s great humour and great charm and great charisma when he wants to. I think David has very specific aspects of our father but I think all of us have some. I see as much ofmy father in Patrick and Ryan as I do in David. The parts of our dad that David has might be the more theatrical parts and the more obvious ones. I would say I have the least amount of similarities on the surface but I think I’m a writer because of my father. He always wanted to be a writer and actually wrote a script. He was a sponge for knowledge. He educated himself and surrounded himself with smart people. And I have followed the same course. I don’t think I do it consciously, but that’s obviously a gift I got from him.
Dad and Shirley went on the road for previews of
Maggie Flynn
prior to its scheduled October 1968 opening at the ANTA Theater in New York. They were out of town when I got hired for my first real professional job in a new Broadway musical comedy,
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
with Barry Nelson, Dorothy Loudon and Jenny O’Hara. It was being staged by George Abbott, the legendary octogenarian director/writer/producer, who had worked in past years with both my parents. I was in four scenes and got to sing two songs with Dorothy Loudon.
My dad and Shirley were thrilled when I telephoned them with the news. Then I telephoned my employers and declared I’d never be going back to that hated job. ‘Send my final cheque to my home. No, better yet, keep my cheque!’ I told them. What did I need with a cheque for $38.80? I was being offered $175 a week – a veritable fortune – to appear in a show staged by George Abbott. In a career spanning five decades, Abbott had worked on more Broadway hits –
Pal Joey
,
On the Town
,
Pajama Game
,
Damn Yankees
,
A FunnyThing Happened on the Way to the Forum
and countless others – than probably anyone else in the business. I could imagine
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
running for many years to come, and me collecting those huge $175 cheques week after endless week. At 18, I had a good imagination.
The Fig Leaves Are Falling
opened at Broadway’s Broadhurst Theater on 2 January 1969. It closed on 4 January 1969.
My dad and Shirley’s show,
Maggie Flynn,
didn’t fare all that much better. Shirley’s popularity as a film star helped generate some ticket sales, but not enough. By mid-January we were all out of work. My dad and Shirley decided to return to California.
Fortunately for me, while we were doing previews in Philadelphia for
Fig Leaves . . .
a casting director from CBS films had seen me and wanted me to screen-test for a movie he was casting. So two days after we closed on Broadway I was on a plane back to Hollywood.
5 California Dreamin’
R uth began managing my career for real.
Similar Books
