Growing Up Brady: I Was a Teenage Greg, Special Collector's Edition (28 page)

Needless to say, her ploy didn't work. Thankfully, a mob of
thick-necked security types finally showed up and helped us out.
Without them, I think, we all might still be in there.

On another occasion, we came backstage after a state fair concert and began heading toward our Winnebago (there were no real
dressing rooms) to find it swarming with fans who had convinced
themselves that we were hiding inside.

The vehicle, clearly, and dumbly, marked with a banner that
read "The Brady Bunch Kids," was surrounded with frighteningly enthusiastic fans. As we watched the goings-on from the relative
safety of a side-stage area, our fans, six deep on all sides, yelled our
names at the motor home, hoping that one of us might be inside.
Next, they rapped on the doors, then pounded on the windows,
and finally just plain shook the shit out of that Winnebago until
they'd actually tipped it over.

The Bradys on
"American
Bandstand."
(© Karen Lipscomb)

Road Warblers

Terrifying, but I clearly remember thinking to myself, "Wow,
this is reeeeeally coooool."

Many more cities would follow. So would dozens of shows,
dozens of plane flights, dozens of autograph sessions, dozens of
photo opportunities, and dozens of hotel rooms. We even played
"American Bandstand." To this day, I marvel at how well behaved
we all were in the midst of this chaotic environment. None of us
ever trashed a hotel room; none of us ever bit the head off a bat;
or ran out on the bill. Still, I'm absolutely floored that our worst
indiscretion was probably a particularly rough-and-tumble round
of pillow fighting.

But then again, we were Bradys.

The flying fringe.
(Michael Ochs
ArchivesNenice, CA)

11 right, we're playing The Minnesota State Fair in front of
like twelve thousand people, and they're really going
crazy for the "Brady Bunch Kids." I can remember getting about halfway through our set and thinking to
myself that maybe-just maybe-we really do have the potential to blow the Partridge Family and the Osmonds out of the water.
We sail through our first twenty minutes, and then we get to my
solo. And as the spotlight hits me, and my sequins and fringe begin
to take on a glitzy show-biz glow, I look down into the footlights
and see-Tony Orlando.

He's ducked below the lip of the stage, and out of the crowd's
view, but nevertheless, here's the guy with the number-one song
in the country ("Tie a Yellow Ribbon" had just exploded), and he's
down in the pit, rooting me on, yelling "Yeah! Go for it! Get down!
Do it!" All this guy needed was pom-poms. He was amazing; and
his support coupled with the extra-large extra-enthusiastic throng
in attendance made a huge impact on all of us.

I left the stage that night feeling like superstardom was just
around the corner.

I think we all did. Shortly thereafter we Brady Kids came to a
group decision that what we needed was some high-powered
management that could unite us and represent us collectively as
we zoomed toward large-scale musical success. We scouted most
of the bigger names in Hollywood and settled on a guy named
Harvey Shotz, who seemed genuinely enthusiastic about our
future and was a master spewer of ego-inflating, head-expanding,
overly complimentary hype. In short, he was one of those guys
who could size you up, effortlessly look you in the eye, and spit
out exactly what you wanted to hear.

"Make a stand!" he'd cheerlead at us. "You're the talent! You're
the power! You can become huge stars, make tons of money,
ensure your future, and raise your standing in the business!"

Sounded great to us.

Actually, I should correct myself by saying it sounded great to
most of us. We had all swallowed the Shotz shit, but with six kids
and ten parents involved in every decision-I was the only kid
allowed to make my own decisions-dissension became the rule
and not the exception.

We did our best to remain united, but with so many cooks in
the kitchen, nothing came easy. We debated what direction the
Kids should take musically, in terms of image, and in terms of commitment. Finally, when all was said and done, we'd usually reach a
compromise and agree to disagree, oftentimes with parents and
their own kids at opposite ends of an argument. Chris Knight, for
example, really wanted no part of the live act. He hated singing,
hated dancing, hated touring, and would probably have preferred
to stay home and hang out like a normal kid. His mom, however,
was one of the group's most ambitious strategists. On the flip side,
Susan Olsen's dad wanted his daughter out of show business altogether, only to find her thrilled with life on the road.

Still, Harvey Shotz was confident that he knew exactly how to
propel us toward musical superstardom, and with all six kids in his
stable, he was confident that he had the power to do so as well.
His big, bold plan was to use our collective bargaining power in
squeezing ABC, Paramount, and Sherwood Schwartz into letting us
use the "Brady Bunch" TV show simply as a tool to promote our
live Brady Kids musical act. This would be accomplished by having
us kids present a united front and demanding that seven of every
thirteen "Brady" episodes include songs.

He took his idea to the "suits" at ABC, and (buoyed by the success of "The Partridge Family") they were surprisingly amenable.
Now, Shotz concluded (and we all came to agree) we were simply
going to have to convince Sherwood, through whatever means
necessary, that it would be in his best interest to allow us to
change the direction of his show.

First step was to call a meeting of the kids, wherein we all sat
down and made suggestions for the "improvement" of "The Brady
Bunch." One by one we spouted ideas at Mr. Shotz. I remember
that my personal agenda included seeing us deal with some "serious" themes (I recall asking to have Mike and Greg get into an
argument which would ultimately lead to Greg getting slugged).
Michael Lookinland argued that Bobby should have a steady girlfriend, and Susan's idea was that Cindy should get a horse.

Finally, with "more musical episodes" at the top of our list, and
a notebook full of follow-up demands, Shotz set up a meeting
between himself, all six kids, and Lloyd and Sherwood Schwartz. It
was time for us to present our demands, and with our newfound
resolve to collectively strong-arm negotiations, Shotz was sure we
would simply steamroll the Schwartzes and any resistance they
might muster.