make sense for us to be doing for Deaf children. I didn’t agree.”
Hollywood, here I come
I worked hard on my performance, learning my lines, practicing at home. The script that they’d created for us was about forty-five pages long—a lot for seven-year-olds to absorb—but I wanted to get everything right and no one had to push me to work on it. Dr. Pat used to tease me that whether it was a rehearsal or a performance, I would always ask her, “Is it perfect?” I was always setting a high bar when something was important to me.
Years later after Children of a Lesser God was released, I bumped into Dr. Pat in a Chicago drugstore. We hugged and I asked her, “Was it perfect?”
She smiled and said, “Yes, Marlee, it was.”
W HILE WE WORKED on learning to sign the entire Wizard of Oz, our parents made costumes and sets. Finally we were ready to begin our run. Programs were sent out, and on opening night the theater was packed.
The play was a hit, and I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. My mother was glad I was happy, but she was anything but a stage mother. In fact, Dr. Pat had to keep convincing her that it was important to keep me involved in theater.
Dr. Pat says, “Marlee was unbelievable as Dorothy, and I started telling her mother that she was really a gifted child in theater. Throughout our relationship, I would tell Libby that, and she would say, ‘No, she’s just cute.’ And she was cute, but Marlee commanded that stage.”
My mother remembers that in the performance something fell out of my basket, and she noticed how casually I reached down and retrieved it without missing a beat. “It was just so natural the way she did it, as if being up there was the most natural thing in the world.”
The center in time created a mini-museum of memorable productions, and they have a Marlee Matlin exhibit with my blue-and-white gingham dress that I wore when I was Dorothy. I still get a kick out of it every time I see it.
After The Wizard of Oz, there would be Pinnochio, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, every year a new production, and every year I got the lead role, which sometimes caused tensions with my friend Liz, who also had dreams of being an actress. The last time we would be considered for the same role was for the stage production of Children of a Lesser God , Liz auditioned the day before I did but was told she was too blond. I’m sure that was a difficult loss for her, particularly given what it ultimately meant for my career.
My family was great, always there at the productions to support me. Other friends would occasionally come, too. I remember how excited I was when Bob Michels, my handsome neighbor, the one I hoped would fall madly in love with me, came to see me perform “What I Did for Love,” from A Chorus Line.
Both my brothers would come, even though Marc was by then a teenager and Eric was in college. Eric would come with his girlfriend, Gloria, and says, “When Marlee started acting, she always was the top person in the show. Everyone else, their performance was very overstated—like they were making up for a lack of sound with exaggerated movements. Marlee was never like that, she just performed.”
I began to seriously dream of acting for the rest of my life. The center had an essay contest, and I’ve saved the one I wrote—it was the winning essay—to this day:
Because it’s never too early to start work on some of these skills, even then I would always take the time to give autographs—grateful that anyone wanted one.
Then my very own personal wizard would come into my life—and his name was Henry.
10
W HEN I WAS twelve, Happy Days was ruling prime time and Henry Winkler as the Fonz was ruling the show. The series had such an incredible international reach that for years he was the most recognized American in the world.
In December of that year, he and his wife, Stacey, were in Chicago for a film Henry was involved in, and Dr. Pat
Hollywood, here I come
I worked hard on my performance, learning my lines, practicing at home. The script that they’d created for us was about forty-five pages long—a lot for seven-year-olds to absorb—but I wanted to get everything right and no one had to push me to work on it. Dr. Pat used to tease me that whether it was a rehearsal or a performance, I would always ask her, “Is it perfect?” I was always setting a high bar when something was important to me.
Years later after Children of a Lesser God was released, I bumped into Dr. Pat in a Chicago drugstore. We hugged and I asked her, “Was it perfect?”
She smiled and said, “Yes, Marlee, it was.”
W HILE WE WORKED on learning to sign the entire Wizard of Oz, our parents made costumes and sets. Finally we were ready to begin our run. Programs were sent out, and on opening night the theater was packed.
The play was a hit, and I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. My mother was glad I was happy, but she was anything but a stage mother. In fact, Dr. Pat had to keep convincing her that it was important to keep me involved in theater.
Dr. Pat says, “Marlee was unbelievable as Dorothy, and I started telling her mother that she was really a gifted child in theater. Throughout our relationship, I would tell Libby that, and she would say, ‘No, she’s just cute.’ And she was cute, but Marlee commanded that stage.”
My mother remembers that in the performance something fell out of my basket, and she noticed how casually I reached down and retrieved it without missing a beat. “It was just so natural the way she did it, as if being up there was the most natural thing in the world.”
The center in time created a mini-museum of memorable productions, and they have a Marlee Matlin exhibit with my blue-and-white gingham dress that I wore when I was Dorothy. I still get a kick out of it every time I see it.
After The Wizard of Oz, there would be Pinnochio, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, every year a new production, and every year I got the lead role, which sometimes caused tensions with my friend Liz, who also had dreams of being an actress. The last time we would be considered for the same role was for the stage production of Children of a Lesser God , Liz auditioned the day before I did but was told she was too blond. I’m sure that was a difficult loss for her, particularly given what it ultimately meant for my career.
My family was great, always there at the productions to support me. Other friends would occasionally come, too. I remember how excited I was when Bob Michels, my handsome neighbor, the one I hoped would fall madly in love with me, came to see me perform “What I Did for Love,” from A Chorus Line.
Both my brothers would come, even though Marc was by then a teenager and Eric was in college. Eric would come with his girlfriend, Gloria, and says, “When Marlee started acting, she always was the top person in the show. Everyone else, their performance was very overstated—like they were making up for a lack of sound with exaggerated movements. Marlee was never like that, she just performed.”
I began to seriously dream of acting for the rest of my life. The center had an essay contest, and I’ve saved the one I wrote—it was the winning essay—to this day:
Because it’s never too early to start work on some of these skills, even then I would always take the time to give autographs—grateful that anyone wanted one.
Then my very own personal wizard would come into my life—and his name was Henry.
10
W HEN I WAS twelve, Happy Days was ruling prime time and Henry Winkler as the Fonz was ruling the show. The series had such an incredible international reach that for years he was the most recognized American in the world.
In December of that year, he and his wife, Stacey, were in Chicago for a film Henry was involved in, and Dr. Pat
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