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Authors: Barry Livingston
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though. Becoming part of MTS and spending more time with my older brother was good enough for me.
My parents, needless to say, were ecstatic. It wasn’t just the extra money to them; it was added bragging rights. They now had two kids working on one of the most popular TV sitcoms ever. What were the odds?
My character was introduced on the series in an episode called My Friend Ernie . I was Chip’s new buddy and hung out at the Douglas house, annoying the heck out of Bub (William Frawley). That became an ongoing gag.
Being a series regular now, I had to attend studio school full-time, putting in three hours of studying a day. When I wasn’t working on the set, I’d get my time done in one uninterrupted run. That was great. On other busier days, it took all day to get in my three hours, usually done in ten-to twenty-minute chunks. That was hell. You’d have your nose in a math book, trying to figure out a problem, and then get called to come work. After the scene was done, you’d return to the math problem, get in a few more minutes of study, only to be called away again in another ten minutes. That was the routine until you cobbled together three hours of schooling.
The ringmaster of my helter-skelter education was Sally Hickerson, a seventy-year-old studio teacher who claimed to have tutored Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland at MGM back in the day. She was way past her prime now and easily flustered, a fact that my brother and I exploited to the max.
One of our favorite stunts was to march into the schoolroom, click our heels, raise our right hands in a mock-Nazi salute, and yell, “Heil Hickerson!” Our cruel little stunt would send her into a tizzy, and she’d reprimand us in a warbling Julia Child falsetto. I knew that I was being a little monster, but the disgusted look on Miss Hickerson’s face was worth every page that I had to transcribe from Webster’s Dictionary as punishment.
Schooling at the studio had another drawback: a shoddy, one-room classroom. Ever the penny pinchers, the production company built an unventilated cubicle for us on our soundstage, right under Don Grady’s dressing room. Grady was an accomplished musician and could play every instrument imaginable ... all day long. I’d be trying to memorize the Constitution downstairs while Don would be stomping his foot upstairs, keeping time to a song. His floor, our ceiling. Eventually, Stan or I would grab a flagpole with Old Glory on it and ram it into our ceiling to quiet the thumping. That was another sin in our teacher’s patriotic eyes, a real desecration of the American flag. We’d be copying Mr. Webster’s book for hours after that. To this day, thanks to Don Grady’s constant toe tapping, I can only decipher algebra in a 4/4 musical time.
CHAPTER 12
Ernie Becomes Famous
The basic template for every MTS episode started with a son having a problem (a girl, a job, a car, etc.). Over the course of the story, Dad’s invisible guiding hand would lead his troubled boy to a solution, and the son would think he’d figured out things on his own. Since I was the “new kid next door,” my character was used mainly as a supporting player in everyone else’s story.
Eventually, an episode was written that focused on Ernie. Ironically, Tim Considine, the original oldest son who played Mike, wrote it. I replaced him a year later when he left the show. (More on that later.) The storyline had me spying on Mike and an old flame. Since James Bond films were becoming hugely popular, I donned a trench coat, popped out of trash cans, and skulked down alleys in my pursuit.
After that episode aired, my fan mail shot up. It was nice that the fans of the show seemed to notice and like me. The letters were a real ego boost. Occasionally, though, they were a bit disturbing, particularly if the letter contained a picture of a fan that purportedly was Ernie’s “twin.” It was usually a photo of some scrawny, genetically challenged kid who
My parents, needless to say, were ecstatic. It wasn’t just the extra money to them; it was added bragging rights. They now had two kids working on one of the most popular TV sitcoms ever. What were the odds?
My character was introduced on the series in an episode called My Friend Ernie . I was Chip’s new buddy and hung out at the Douglas house, annoying the heck out of Bub (William Frawley). That became an ongoing gag.
Being a series regular now, I had to attend studio school full-time, putting in three hours of studying a day. When I wasn’t working on the set, I’d get my time done in one uninterrupted run. That was great. On other busier days, it took all day to get in my three hours, usually done in ten-to twenty-minute chunks. That was hell. You’d have your nose in a math book, trying to figure out a problem, and then get called to come work. After the scene was done, you’d return to the math problem, get in a few more minutes of study, only to be called away again in another ten minutes. That was the routine until you cobbled together three hours of schooling.
The ringmaster of my helter-skelter education was Sally Hickerson, a seventy-year-old studio teacher who claimed to have tutored Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland at MGM back in the day. She was way past her prime now and easily flustered, a fact that my brother and I exploited to the max.
One of our favorite stunts was to march into the schoolroom, click our heels, raise our right hands in a mock-Nazi salute, and yell, “Heil Hickerson!” Our cruel little stunt would send her into a tizzy, and she’d reprimand us in a warbling Julia Child falsetto. I knew that I was being a little monster, but the disgusted look on Miss Hickerson’s face was worth every page that I had to transcribe from Webster’s Dictionary as punishment.
Schooling at the studio had another drawback: a shoddy, one-room classroom. Ever the penny pinchers, the production company built an unventilated cubicle for us on our soundstage, right under Don Grady’s dressing room. Grady was an accomplished musician and could play every instrument imaginable ... all day long. I’d be trying to memorize the Constitution downstairs while Don would be stomping his foot upstairs, keeping time to a song. His floor, our ceiling. Eventually, Stan or I would grab a flagpole with Old Glory on it and ram it into our ceiling to quiet the thumping. That was another sin in our teacher’s patriotic eyes, a real desecration of the American flag. We’d be copying Mr. Webster’s book for hours after that. To this day, thanks to Don Grady’s constant toe tapping, I can only decipher algebra in a 4/4 musical time.
CHAPTER 12
Ernie Becomes Famous
The basic template for every MTS episode started with a son having a problem (a girl, a job, a car, etc.). Over the course of the story, Dad’s invisible guiding hand would lead his troubled boy to a solution, and the son would think he’d figured out things on his own. Since I was the “new kid next door,” my character was used mainly as a supporting player in everyone else’s story.
Eventually, an episode was written that focused on Ernie. Ironically, Tim Considine, the original oldest son who played Mike, wrote it. I replaced him a year later when he left the show. (More on that later.) The storyline had me spying on Mike and an old flame. Since James Bond films were becoming hugely popular, I donned a trench coat, popped out of trash cans, and skulked down alleys in my pursuit.
After that episode aired, my fan mail shot up. It was nice that the fans of the show seemed to notice and like me. The letters were a real ego boost. Occasionally, though, they were a bit disturbing, particularly if the letter contained a picture of a fan that purportedly was Ernie’s “twin.” It was usually a photo of some scrawny, genetically challenged kid who
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