Growing Up Brady: I Was a Teenage Greg, Special Collector's Edition (14 page)

There were clothes that I liked at the time, but for the most part
I felt they were always dressing Marcia too young. And when a
style was "out," we just kept wearing it, I guess the studio's
wardrobe people were on a budget, and with six kids to dress,
they had to use everything more than once. Actually, being the
oldest, I was pretty lucky, and so I was able to avoid hand-medowns. Still, I think Florence's stuff was the worst of all.

I remember when I was trying to get my hemlines a lot shorter.
Lloyd Schwartz and the crew guys loved the idea, so that was
pretty easy to change. On the other hand, there were other times
on The Brady Bunch" where Eve and I kept trying to sneak onto
the set without bras. You know, it was the seventies, and that was
the look, everyone was going without bras. It got to the point
where every time we'd go out onto the set, Lloyd Schwartz would
have to come up behind us and feel our backs to see if we had our
bras on. If we didn't it was back out to the trailer.

I was successful more than Eve. She had ... uh ... more to
hide. But I could slide by ... unless it was a particularly cold set.

"One time where we had Bob doing a scene with a mouse"Episode 34, "The Impractical joker"-"and this just drove him
nuts, absolutely nuts. I mean, here's a guy who thinks of himself as
a great Shakespearean actor, and he's trading lines with a mouse.
And I remember he was smashed. At the same time, because of
our shooting schedule, this was gonna have to be the last shot of
the day, and if we finished the sequence, the episode would be complete. So I'm on the stage watching, and Bob's just plain
drunk. And I found that an insult to the company, an insult to the
show, and an insult to himself.

"I didn't want a tainted scene like this going to dailies, because
the higher-up network types all paid close attention to dailies.
Basically, I have to prevent the scene from being finished, so that
we'll have to shut down for the day and pick it up the next day. So
now I'm watching this scene and I say, `Okay, this is it. We've got
to get it in this take.' Of course I'm lying because I knew that if we
printed this take, it'd go to dailies, and there Bob would be, on display, drunk. I wasn't particularly interested in protecting Bob,
because I'm not necessarily a fan of him as a person, but I did want
to protect the show.

"So I wait until about halfway through the scene, when all eyes
are on Bob, and I take a big metal lighting scrim and toss it way up
into the rafters. A half-second later, the thing goes CLASH, CLATTER, BOOM, SMASH!!! The place falls dead silent, and I go,
`Ohhhhhhh, nooooooooo! Okay, we'll have to wrap now."'

Before I go even a half-sentence further, I want to make it crystal clear that this sort of tension was not commonplace on the set
of "The Brady Bunch," and was not exhibited in front of us kids-it
almost always took place late in the shooting day, long after the
Brady kids had gone home. Under normal everyday circumstances,
our working conditions were friendly, comfortable, relaxed, and
enjoyable; on-set friction was an exception, not the rule.

Still, the battling between Robert and the Schwartzes was well
known around the Paramount lot. Both sides were locked into
their own unbending, uncompromising, and diametrically
opposed vision of what "The Brady Bunch" should be, and a satisfactory compromise was an absolute impossibility. The fighting
would continue throughout the lifetime of "The Brady Bunch,"
and right on through every reincarnation.

or the better part of five years, the shooting schedule on
"The Brady Bunch" pretty much clobbered the social lives
of us Brady kids. The long hours we'd spend together on
the Paramount lot pretty much demanded that the six of
us do one of two things: become good friends or beat the crap out
of each other.

Actually, we did both. But for the most part, we became great
friends. We worked with each other, laughed with each other,
leaned on each other, and over the course of time, as our adolescent hormones ran amok, became attracted to each other.

When sparks began to fly between Maureen and me, it took us
both by surprise. Friends off-screen as well as on, Maureen and I
were often asked to attend various Tinseltown events and benefits
together. I would generally drive, and sometimes on the way
home we'd stop off for dinner or a soda. (Geez, even my real
dates sound like they belong to Greg.) Anyway, these weren't
exactly "dates," but I knew, at least on my part, something was
cooking, and that my attraction for Mo (we almost never called her
Maureen) was rapidly becoming more than just brotherly.

Still, it wasn't until "The Brady Bunch" got to Hawaii that I was
able to work up the guts to actually do anything about my feelings.

It's funny: things like the warmth of the sun, the sand, and
romantic tropical breezes sound completely corny in print, but in
reality, I think, they had an effect on both of us.

On one particularly perfect, particularly balmy island evening,
after a full day of filming, all of us Bradys had dinner together at
the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. We had a terrific time together, but by
eight o'clock it was over. Lloyd Schwartz told us kids that we should
head back to our rooms and rest up for tomorrow's long shoot
day, but of course, like any kids in that situation, we ignored him. Everyone ran off in different directions, and I took the unsupervised opportunity to nervously make my move.

"Hey ... uh ... Mo ... you ... uh ... wanna go down to the
beach?" I stammered.

"Uh ... urn ... okay" she stammered back.

Three minutes later we were strolling along the unbelievably
beautiful beach at Waikiki. Under tropical skies, we took off our
shoes and walked on the water's edge, enjoying our good fortune
at being in the islands. The moon was enormous, and as the surf
rolled in, I realized that what had been friendship was rapidly turning into attraction, at least for me.

I had to kiss her, but at the same time I was terrified that she
might reject my advances. My stomach churned as I made small
talk and thought about kissing my "sister."

"Why not?" I rationalized. "I mean, if millions of young guys all
over America find Mo attractive, why can't I? After all, we're not
really related." We continued walking, came upon a secluded
point, stopped, looked out at the sea, and then only at each other.
I wanted desperately to ask her if this was okay, but her eyes
looked up into mine and answered my question wordlessly.

I kissed her, and the floodgates opened: warm and hard and
packed with the kind of osculatory excitement that only teenagers
can transmit. It was fantastic, and with the breeze and the trees
and the water, the world seemed absolutely perfect. In fact, I
remember regretting not making my move long ago. Years later,
I'd find out that this had been Mo's first kiss.

At the same time, however, I had a rush of "What in hell are you
doing? This is dangerous" come over me. I think it was mutual,
because immediately we both became quiet, perhaps afraid of verbally expressing exactly what it was that we felt for each other. We
didn't stay out on the beach for long, but for the rest of my life I'll
be glad we went.

The remainder of the trip went smoothly, but something
changed that night. From then on, Maureen and I would struggle
to forget about what happened that night in Hawaii.

We'd often fail miserably.

magine this. You're a snow skier with one of the world's
greatest slopes all to yourself. No crowds, no lines ... nothing between you and a mountain of powder.

Or imagine you're seven years old, running amok in
Disney World. No crowds, nolines, just rides, food, and fun.

Or imagine you're a really fat guy with a buffet at The Sizzler
steaming solely for you. No crowds, no lines ... you get the picture.

That's how I felt on the beach in Hawaii.

When I first heard that the Bradys were gonna pack up and ship
off to Hawaii for the filming of a three-part episode, I was excited.
When I found out that the episodes called for Greg to hang ten at
Oahu's world-famous surf spot, Queen's Beach, I was ecstatic.
Hawaii, of course, is home to some of the hottest waves on the
planet. Now I, a longtime beach bum, and dude-in-training, would
get a chance to show off my skills, complete with camera crew in
primo surf that I'd have all to myself.