Greetings over your interweb devices
“On opening night
Your name in lights
Yeah you won’t stop
’Til you reach the top.”
Asked who my favorite actress was with whom I worked, my usual reply is Betty White. Favorite of all time (whether I worked with them or not)? Tougher — though Katharine Hepburn (particularly in her “The Philadelphia Story” era) is up near the top, along with Betty. But if I answered that my favorite of all time was Sylvia St. John, you might say, “never heard of her.” Well, not all talented actresses are well known or even “make it big in the biz.”
Following World War II, my grandparents and their three children lived in San Francisco. My mom was the oldest of the three, had graduated high school, turned 18, and had a bad case of “I-wanna-be-in-show-biz-itis.” She had done some local theatre and radio work in the “City by the Bay,” but the real treatment for that particular ailment could only be found in Hollywood. So, contrary to the skepticism of her parents, my Mom headed south.
The picture above was one of the pictures she had taken to get work (better known as head-shots) and in the tradition of all hopefuls looking for that big break, she chose a stage name –– Sylvia St. John. Given her Greek background and swarthy looks, her best opportunities were for what were then known as “ethnic parts.” She found work on two films (as an extra) — “Anna and the King of Siam” (the non-musical version of the “The King and I”) and a Danny Kaye flick which, I think, was “The Kid from Brooklyn.” She acted in local theatre productions (particularly the annual religious themed “The Pilgrimage Play” –– as an ethnic villager, what else?) and then her biggest role came in the late 50s . . . as my mom (I’ll give her the EGOT for that one). Finally in the early 70s, she got her AFTRA union card when she started doing voiceovers for Dick Whittinghill, the morning DJ at KMPC. She really enjoyed that –– and was suitably proud, to boot –– so was I.
The fact of the matter was that mom was a good actress, had a great sense of humor, and a remarkable gift for dialects (this acorn fell near that tree). Hers is not the only story of someone who had the goods, but didn’t get Hollywood’s brass ring — and sadly, it won’t be the last, but she did just fine and I hope that I am at least some evidence of that.
Today she would have turned 94.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
To one and all, Be Safe-Stay Healthy