The Gift

 

My dad was this larger-than-life figure - literally and figuratively. He was John Wayne’s stuntman. Six foot four. The last of the blood and guts cowboys. Played Jason Vorhees in Friday the 13th the final chapter. 

And he was as fierce off-camera as he was on. Our family used to drive down Ventura Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley, looking for a place to eat - somewhere he hadn’t gotten into a fight and destroyed half the bar. I was afraid of him, but so was most anyone with a pulse.

 

Don’t get me wrong, he had a playful, and loving side as well. But respect from his sons was something he not only expected, he demanded it. It was yes sir and no sir and if we got in trouble we’d see the back side of his belt. Because of this fear, I never really felt I could speak my mind to him. 

 

But growing up in a Hollywood family did have its perks. When I was seven my family got to go on location to Kanab, Utah with the Daniel Boone show. It was a TV show that aired back in the ’60s. Fess Parker played the lead role of Daniel Boone, Ed Ames played the Native American, Mingo, and my dad, Ted White, was Fess Parker’s stuntman.

They were shooting at the Boonesborough fort there. My brother, Ted, and I, and other kids from the production company, got to play background settler’s children. It was an exciting time and even better, we were going to be on TV!

Then I was whisked away from all the other kids - no one told me a thing but I knew something was up. I was off to the wardrobe department. I turned in my settler kid outfit and instead, I was dressed as a Native American boy, or as they used to say, an Indian boy. Now dressed in leather and beads I was escorted to the hair & make-up department. I was then fitted with a black wig that dawned long braids on either side of my head. I finally emerged looking like a mini-Mingo! As you can imagine, I was on cloud nine.

 

When I walked back onto the set the crew swooned over me. Son of Cochise had arrived. My Dad came out dressed as a Native American too, with Charlie Horvath, another stuntman. It was finally sinking in: I was playing a part in the Daniel Boone TV show with my dad! Oh my God!

I’m guessing I was given this opportunity because my dad knew I was a big ham. At the age of five, I remember entertaining my parents and their friends in the living room lip-syncing Monster Mash. So, if the moccasin fits … 

 

The set photographer put me up on a ladder to get stills of me. It was that hero-up angle and my dad even joined in for a few shots. I hadn’t even done any acting yet and they already wanted my photograph - I would have been happy if the day had ended right there - but it was just the beginning.

Daniel Boone joins us and we traveled to a beautiful outdoor location with a grass-covered hill and a large oak tree. My dad and Charlie were playing bad-guy Native Americans. And they had me, prisoner, with leather ties around my wrists.

I wondered, what was the story here? But there was no script. I mean, shouldn’t I know something about my character? Like, was I a runaway from my reservation or something? What did I do wrong? Did I bring friends home and mess up the teepee? I didn’t know.

 

So, my dad and Charlie lead me down this mountain and as we pass under this large oak tree, Daniel Boone jumps down, bulldogging my dad and Charlie to the ground. Then dispatches them both with a series of set punches. Boom, boom, boom! Oh, and of course, my dad doubled for Daniel Boone doing the jump out of the tree. 

 

The scene ended with Boone running up to me, pulling his enormous bowie knife out from his moccasin and cutting my ties.

 

I turned and ran like the wind into the proverbial sunset. Whatever I had done to deserve being tied up, Daniel Boone knew I was innocent and that was good enough for me. I knew the audience at home would undoubtedly be clapping like crazy. 

That was my first taste of show business. It was officially in my blood. There I was, at all of seven years old - and it was the best day of my long and storied life. 

 

After we returned home, every Sunday night you could find me parked in front of the TV set - waiting to see my acting scene. It never aired. My big foray into show business was a bust. My career as an actor was over. It was so pathetic; I was completely and utterly crushed.

Luckily, I had a fallback position - my mom. Rosemary was a fashion illustrator and taught me everything about art. Because of her, I had a wonderful career as an artist, but as the years passed, I was drawn back to the entertainment and storytelling side. I began storyboarding, writing screenplays, acting, and filmmaking. After all, it was in my blood. 

I wanted in the business but I wanted to tell the stories. I wasn’t like my dad in a violent way at all. I was the sensitive artist type. He’d just look at me with his hockey mask on and say, “Where have I failed you?”

My Dad’s run as a stuntman blossomed into playing bit parts and bad guy roles.  He found himself acting in movies like Romancing the Stone, Against All Odds, and Starman, sharing dialogue scenes with big movie stars like Jeff Bridges and Karen Allen. He was really good too.

 

I began showing my dad my screenplays and movies that I was working on. From his pat negative response, I quickly realized there was only room for one person in show business in our family, and it wasn’t me. 

 

Cut to years later - waiting to leave for our family Christmas dinner over at my dad’s house. Before we left to drive over, I found myself remembering back when I was that little Indian boy on the set of Daniel Boone. I thought, why did that episode never air?

 

I dimmed the lights in the living room and quieted myself in a wingback chair. I closed my eyes and I regressed back to when I was seven years old again. There I was - that little Indian boy with Daniel Boone and my dad, filming the scene. Wait a minute. Were we actually filming? In my meditation, in my mind’s eye, I slowly turned around and the truth became painfully obvious - there were no cameras! That’s right. There were no cameras at all. Not one. Not even any crew members. 

 

That night at dinner, I asked my dad point blank. “On the Daniel Boone show, with me as the Indian boy, was that ever actually filmed?” After a long pause, my dad said, “Nope.” I asked him why he never told me. He leaned forward and said, “I didn’t want to break your heart, Mike.” 

I left there just shaking my head, thinking, “Jesus Christ, how did I not know? He could have at least told me.” I just tucked it away with all my other feelings.

 

I always told myself after he passed, I was going to give him a piece of my mind at his gravesite.   

When he entered his nineties, he began slipping into dementia and recently, as of this writing, has passed. Thinking back now - to when I was that little Indian boy on the mountain with my dad and Daniel Boone, I finally realized what that day meant. That day was a gift for just me – just me and him – not the masses. What a cool thing to do for a kid. 

My planned speech at his gravesite was foiled. All the angst I carried with me my entire life seemed to forget - and forgive.

Instead, I choose to remember that day we spent together – a day playing pretend - with my dad and Daniel Boone - somewhere on a mountaintop in Utah. Godspeed pop.