Read Online The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey From Hollywood to Holy Vows by Dolores Hart, Richard DeNeut - Free Book Online
Authors: Dolores Hart, Richard DeNeut
Tags: Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Biography, Spirituality, Non-Fiction, Religious, Spiritual & Religion
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damn—and, briefly, a cheerleader. Arlene Howsley and I volunteered at Saint Anne’s Home for Unwed Mothers. We were Red Cross and Community Chest volunteers too. I found the time and money to enroll in a modeling course during summer vacation and, with three friends, formed a small pop band—piano, accordion, drums and clarinet. We wore outlandish old clothes and called ourselves the Ragamuffin Band .
I was a member of the Science Club, the Spanish Club, the San Fernando Valley Youth Band, the YMCA (yes , YMCA— this predated the establishment of the YWCA) and, still faithful to Al Capp, the Secret Society of Super Shmoo. I belonged to anything I could. The reason I was so engaged in all this extracurricular activity was, of course, to delay going home .
Her backbreaking schedule didn’t stop Dolores from going to Mass almost every day, even if she had to get up at 6:00 A.M. to do it. In fact, when she did not make Mass, it was an occasion worth noting in her diary.
— The comfort I felt when I was alone with God seemed stronger in the church. I had come to rely on that direct communication with Him, which always reassured me that I would be able to deal with hard times .
Social life during high school was more problematic than anyone knew. I wanted to be accepted, but there was always the possibility that someone would see Mom drunk. When girls would come over for slumber parties, Mom would curb the drinking, but as the evening went on, she would sneak enough drinks to be a little too giddy. My greatest fear was that I might be blackballed by my classmates. At the dances at school, I sat in the gym bleachers that were the farthest back. Then at least I could have an excuse if no one asked me to dance .
Attention wasn’t as difficult to come by as she implies. There was a constant flow of boys at the Hazeltine door—Martin joked that it was more like a river. She didn’t lack for dates to dances and parties and football games and—if it was up to her—movies. Decades later she could still remember names.
— Burt Glannon, Jim Adams and Donald Boyles were my movie dates. I would see a movie I particularly liked with each of them. I must have seen Roman Holiday and The Rose Tattoo ten times each. I was in a dance contest with Bob Saunders. We were second in waltz, third in rumba .
Harriett always insisted that she trusted Dolores and her boyfriends. She gave them freedom. This modern approach, however, was undermined when, with a few drinks in her, Harriett would flirt with Dolores’ dates.
This was so embarrassing for the boy and humiliating for me. She could also pick up the phone and very easily pretend to be me with one of my boyfriends, which she thought was funny .
Privately and soberly, Mom gave me one warning—“too easy, too late”—and that was sufficient. I wasn’t in the market for a steady relationship anyway. It wasn’t until Chris, a young telephone repairman, did some work at the house that I dated seriously. Two years older than I and a high school dropout, Chris had a way about him, a lively joie de vivre—and he was Catholic. I was infatuated. But when I showed up at a school dance with Chris as my escort, I got some flack from Mother Phillip, the principal at Corvallis, who thought Chris wasn’t an appropriate companion, emphasizing that, as a dropout, he had no sound future. I’ve often wondered whether she sensed something about the direction my life was to take, if perhaps I had a religious vocation. She never mentioned that to me, but she minced no words about the telephone repairman. She told me to get rid of him because my life was going somewhere beyond him .
Reluctantly, I did, which happily allowed me to meet one of the nicest boys I’ve ever known. On a trip home from Chicago, I sat next to Jack Lynch, a young sailor from Wisconsin en route to San Pedro Naval Base. For the few months that Jack was stationed in California, we dated and went to Mass together. I saw On
I was a member of the Science Club, the Spanish Club, the San Fernando Valley Youth Band, the YMCA (yes , YMCA— this predated the establishment of the YWCA) and, still faithful to Al Capp, the Secret Society of Super Shmoo. I belonged to anything I could. The reason I was so engaged in all this extracurricular activity was, of course, to delay going home .
Her backbreaking schedule didn’t stop Dolores from going to Mass almost every day, even if she had to get up at 6:00 A.M. to do it. In fact, when she did not make Mass, it was an occasion worth noting in her diary.
— The comfort I felt when I was alone with God seemed stronger in the church. I had come to rely on that direct communication with Him, which always reassured me that I would be able to deal with hard times .
Social life during high school was more problematic than anyone knew. I wanted to be accepted, but there was always the possibility that someone would see Mom drunk. When girls would come over for slumber parties, Mom would curb the drinking, but as the evening went on, she would sneak enough drinks to be a little too giddy. My greatest fear was that I might be blackballed by my classmates. At the dances at school, I sat in the gym bleachers that were the farthest back. Then at least I could have an excuse if no one asked me to dance .
Attention wasn’t as difficult to come by as she implies. There was a constant flow of boys at the Hazeltine door—Martin joked that it was more like a river. She didn’t lack for dates to dances and parties and football games and—if it was up to her—movies. Decades later she could still remember names.
— Burt Glannon, Jim Adams and Donald Boyles were my movie dates. I would see a movie I particularly liked with each of them. I must have seen Roman Holiday and The Rose Tattoo ten times each. I was in a dance contest with Bob Saunders. We were second in waltz, third in rumba .
Harriett always insisted that she trusted Dolores and her boyfriends. She gave them freedom. This modern approach, however, was undermined when, with a few drinks in her, Harriett would flirt with Dolores’ dates.
This was so embarrassing for the boy and humiliating for me. She could also pick up the phone and very easily pretend to be me with one of my boyfriends, which she thought was funny .
Privately and soberly, Mom gave me one warning—“too easy, too late”—and that was sufficient. I wasn’t in the market for a steady relationship anyway. It wasn’t until Chris, a young telephone repairman, did some work at the house that I dated seriously. Two years older than I and a high school dropout, Chris had a way about him, a lively joie de vivre—and he was Catholic. I was infatuated. But when I showed up at a school dance with Chris as my escort, I got some flack from Mother Phillip, the principal at Corvallis, who thought Chris wasn’t an appropriate companion, emphasizing that, as a dropout, he had no sound future. I’ve often wondered whether she sensed something about the direction my life was to take, if perhaps I had a religious vocation. She never mentioned that to me, but she minced no words about the telephone repairman. She told me to get rid of him because my life was going somewhere beyond him .
Reluctantly, I did, which happily allowed me to meet one of the nicest boys I’ve ever known. On a trip home from Chicago, I sat next to Jack Lynch, a young sailor from Wisconsin en route to San Pedro Naval Base. For the few months that Jack was stationed in California, we dated and went to Mass together. I saw On
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