“The fact that the guy bought the house on eBay without knowing anything about bylaws, without knowing whether or not you can run a tourist attraction in the middle of a residential neighborhood, is astonishing to me,” he continues. “Any other town in the United States would have said, ‘No way,’ but Cleveland is so hard up for anything that they said, go ahead. That’s the most incredible thing. Warner Bros. could have said ‘F.U.,’ but instead of getting up in arms, they said, ‘Okay, slap our logo on it, give us a couple bucks for every person who walks through the door,’ and it just kind of worked out.”
Of course, not all the Christmas Story cast was present and accounted for that day. Darren McGavin had passed away earlier that year following two strokes. Melinda Dillon, who has maintained steady work as an actress, has opted to avoid discussing the film since its release. R.D. Robb, who played the smartass Schwartz, has also limited his Christmas activities.
“R.D. hasn’t come around with us,” Scott Schwartz says. “He’s been very lucky in life. He married a wonderful, absolutely gorgeous, beautiful woman who is an executive for a distribution company, and she makes so much money. He doesn’t work all that much. He writes. He tries to get some indie films done, but he doesn’t even have to work, realistically. He takes care of their baby, and their [older] child, and he’s enjoying life.”
However, there is one other person who has spent the last ten years walking a delicate line between being one of the film’s biggest cheerleaders and one of its most absent cast members at public appearances. Peter Billingsley, who had long since shed his baby fat and traded his mahogany-tinted round eyeglasses for contact lenses, was also missing from the opening day celebration. Ralphie may not have come home on that date, but it wouldn’t be too long before he returned to the forefront of the choir singing the film’s praises.
Zack Ward, Yano Anaya (with his son), Tedde Moore, Ian Petrella, Scott Schwartz, Patty Johnson, and Drew Hocevar reunited at the Christmas Story House grand opening © Brian Jones
CHAPTER SIX
Explorers Road Trip for Ralphie
In The Truman Show, the 1998 comedy-drama starring Jim Carrey, there’s a brief flashback intended to explain why Truman Burbank, the film’s protagonist, hasn’t attempted to venture outside of his city limits.
“And what do you want to be when you grow up?” his teacher asked.
“I want to be an explorer, like the Great Magellan!”
“Oh, you’re too late,” his teacher replied as she pulled down a scrolling map. “There’s nothing left to explore.”
Tyler and Jordie Schwartz © Tyler Schwartz
While this moment is played for laughs, there is a grain of truth to the teacher’s claim. Many rebuke independent research because, in the Wikipedia age, everything that can be found out about a topic must already be online. If it isn’t easily found on a Google search, it couldn’t possibly exist.
Tyler Schwartz, a longtime fan of A Christmas Story, doesn’t subscribe to that thinking. Like Christopher Columbus centuries before him, he is a great explorer who, in 2005, set out to discover some of the long-lost history behind one of his favorite films. “Before the museum and house in Cleveland even opened, I saw what Brian Jones was doing and I thought it was super-cool,” Tyler explains. “And I thought, ‘Okay, that’s a part of the story. What about the Canadian locations where the rest of the movie — where most of the movie — was shot? Most of the interiors were shot on a soundstage in Toronto, not in Cleveland. If you combine the clips and footage that [were] shot in Cleveland, you’re talking about five, ten minutes.”
His assessment is largely correct. Principal photography on A Christmas Story lasted nine weeks, only two of which were spent in Cleveland. Not only was the Midwestern city only briefly used, but a number of sequences, like when Randy falls down in the snow and the “Oh, fudge” scene by the bridge, were originally shot in Cleveland but had to be done over in Toronto because the footage wasn’t good enough to print.
For Tyler, as a Canadian, the mythology that the film’s roots traced back to the States was somewhat confusing and mildly perturbing. With the house soon to become a tourist attraction, Tyler, along with his wife, Jordie, embarked on a two-year-long quest to trace down filming locations and uncover any lost treasures along the way. Early on, a decision was made to videotape their adventures, which led to the independent documentary, Road Trip for Ralphie.
There was a certain level of brazenness required to decide to take on a documentary film project. By Tyler’s own admission, the Schwartzes aren’t filmmakers and their crew consisted of nothing more than Tyler behind a run-of-the-mill camcorder, and his wife, who Tyler says is “gifted with natural presence,” as the talent. How did this idea come about and what inspired the dynamic duo to set off on this adventure?
The answer lies in Cleveland, as so many Christmas stories do. “It really was started by my admiration for what Brian Jones was doing for the house,” Tyler explains. “I had a boring desk job and somehow I got on Brian’s email list. When he first bought the house he would do a monthly email blast updating everyone about how the renovations were going. I became so enamored with this stuff.”
With renewed interest in the film, Tyler became a Christmas Story magnet. If something turned up online, he would bookmark the page and share it with his wife. When Jones sent out a new email, he would sneakily read it at his computer desk, anxious to see how the project was progressing and astonished that Jones had the audacity to take on this endeavor in the first place. “He’s a great guy,” Tyler says. “He’s the American Dream in person. He had this great idea, and the fact that it has worked out for him is partly because he has balls and partly because he has great luck.”
Jordie and Tyler Schwartz © Tyler Schwartz
But Jones’ luck had yet to be tested. The Christmas Story House was still under renovation when, during the holiday season of 2005, a happy accident occurred that kickstarted the Schwartzes’ two-year quest. The couple was watching A Christmas Story on television and saw the name of the shop that had provided the costumes for the film. Out of curiosity, Tyler typed the name into Google and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was still in existence. He called and spoke to a woman, the same woman who had outfitted the actors for the film, in fact, and asked if she still had the pieces they had used on-screen. She did, and Tyler booked an appointment to go down and see them. “She must have just thought I was a crazy fan,” he says. “She had no idea what she had in there.”
Costumes on display at the Christmas Story House Museum © Jesse Yost
Tyler arrived early one morning with his wife and a bunch of screenshots printed out from his home computer. What they found wasn’t only jaw-dropping but downright intimidating. There were several floors of costumes separated by type, each rack filled to capacity with garments. The Schwartzes had hoped that there might be a special section designated to A Christmas Story, or at least that the costumer would know where those specific pieces were, but that wasn’t the case.
Tyler and his wife made their way through the racks systematically, and within hours scored some significant finds. In the section marked “Men’s Jackets,” they found the gray tweed coat that Darren McGavin’s Old Man wore in the film. Elsewhere, in the “Ladies’ Morning Clothes” area, Melinda Dillon’s Christmas nightgown turned up. Randy’s unforgettable red snowsuit, the one made famous by the scene in which his mother bundles him up so tightly from the cold that he can’t put his arms down, turned up in the “Boys’ Jackets” region.
For all the great finds that were scored that first day, one item was nowhere to be found. “We couldn’t find Ralphie’s jacket because it was out on loan,” Tyler says. “The costumer had lost track of the fact that A Christmas Story had become this cult movie. She just thought of it as a little flop of a film that was made a long time ago. I t
old her she really had something on her hands. People have asked me why I didn’t just downplay it and try and buy everything for ten bucks, but that’s not my style.”
They left that day having identified a few armfuls of costumes. The costumer agreed to put them on hold for the couple, even though they didn’t yet have any idea what to do with their find. They returned several times, finding more and more pieces from the film and putting them aside, snapping photographs as they progressed. Before long, they had traced down nearly every costume piece that the costumer had provided for the film, including the aforementioned jacket worn by Ralphie.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and all the while Tyler and Jordie tried to figure out what to do with their collection of photographs and the pile of costumes that sat in the large, cold warehouse. “These have to be seen,” Tyler thought. “But how? Where? And who’s going to be the right person to make this happen?”
Tyler and Jordie Schwartz hold the jacket worn by the character Schwartz in the film © Tyler Schwartz
© David Monseur
Of course, Brian Jones was the answer. They sent him an email letting him know of their find, and he replied back promptly. He was interested — so much so that he booked a trip to Canada to take a look for himself.
The Schwartzes’ initial idea was for the costumer to loan the Christmas Story House the costume pieces for an extended period of time. According to Tyler, the museum was badly in need of some more material to make the trip worthwhile to the tourists who were, by now, coming from miles around to see the property.
Ian Petrella’s zeppelin donated to the Christmas Story House Museum © David Monseur
“By the time Brian got there, we had pulled them all together into one collection,” Tyler says. “He had already opened the museum. There were some things Ian [Petrella] had loaned the museum, but Brian was in need of more to make it an actual experience.”
When the American made his trek over the country’s northern border, he was amazed at what he saw. “These costumes shouldn’t make a temporary stay in the museum,” he thought. “Cleveland has to be their permanent home.” He met with the costumer and made his intentions known. “Brian made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and within five minutes, they were his,” Tyler says. “She was flabbergasted. She thought they were all practically worthless.”
Jones packed up his pieces and made his way back to Cleveland. To this day, the costumes continue to generate much interest at his museum — his investment has paid off quite handsomely.
The explorers turned their attention to St. Catharines to see Victoria Public School, the place immortalized on celluloid as Warren G. Harding Elementary. Unfortunately, while the school lives forever on film, it did not in reality. In January 2005, the school closed. The Schwartzes discovered that the building was sold for over a million dollars for the purposes of being converted into a women’s shelter. Tyler made a telephone call to the woman in charge at the purchasing organization.
Victoria Public School © Anne Dean
“Hi, I’m Tyler Schwartz,” he said before explaining why he was calling. “Is anything left in the school? Maybe the blackboard used in the classroom where they shot the movie? The one where the teacher wrote ‘A+++++++?’”
“Yeah, everything’s still inside,” she said. “But we’re gutting it tomorrow. If you wanna come down and grab whatever you want, you can.”
Jordie Schwartz restoring Miss Shields’ chalkboard © Tyler Schwartz
The next day, armed with a sledgehammer, crowbar, and their old reliable camcorder, Tyler and Jordie appeared in sweatshirts to brave the cold and contribute to the demolition. Although they were happy to be there, others were less thrilled by their presence. “There were a lot of annoyed-looking people,” Tyler says. “I’m pretty sure we just got in their way.”
Before long, they had found the blackboard that, if not for their serendipitous telephone call twenty-four hours earlier, would have ended up exiled to an anonymous garbage dump somewhere in Ontario. The two also took various knickknacks — like the coat hooks and door trim — and endured the stares of some of the volunteers who were helping. “People were looking at us like, ‘Why are you trying to save this?’” Tyler says. “But thank God we did!” The items made their way into their van and within a few months to the museum in Cleveland.
Jordie and Tyler Schwartz with Tedde Moore and the restored chalkboard © Cindy Jones
Before they left, though, the Schwartzes visited the field where Flick had fallen victim to the triple-dog-dare. When the school was sold to the organization converting it into a woman’s shelter, they also sold off the field to a developer to recoup some of the costs. Townhouses soon started to spring up onto what was formerly school property. When the Schwartzes arrived in 2006, most of the plots had already been sold, but the spot that had once been the focal point of a frosty January shoot was left undisturbed.
“The flagpole lot was on sale until recently,” Schwartz said in 2012. He had been tempted to buy it, but met some resistance from his partner. “My wife wouldn’t go for it. She said there are limits. There’s a house there now and I wonder if they’re aware that they’re literally sitting on a holy grail of film history.”
The scene where the Parkers purchase their Christmas tree was shot in Canada © Ian Petrella
When the Victoria Public School closed, the previous owners didn’t know what to do with all of the trophies, awards, and other artifacts that had been collected over time. In the school’s last days, it was decided that all of the belongings would be donated to another school, down the street, for safekeeping. The time capsule with the Christmas Story script signed by Peter Billingsley and Tedde Moore, as well as the Betamax copy of the director’s cut of the film, was dug up and its contents were sent a few blocks away. In his quest to uncover the items, Tyler made his way down to the school.
© Ian Petrella
“I never actually saw the video, but I was assured it was there,” he says. “I held the script in my hands, though. They kept it in a safe in the principal’s office. Of course, they wouldn’t let me keep it.”
A year later he was curious enough to make another trip down to the school to see if they would part with the script or the video. The unfortunate reality was that they already had. “They had no idea what I was talking about,” he said. “They had gotten a new principal who threw out everything from Victoria School. They just didn’t know where to put it all.” In an instant, the chances of ever seeing the truly rare footage became even more diminished.
But the search for long-lost Christmas Story locations continued. The Schwartzes obtained copies of the filming permits from the Toronto Film Reference Library, which led them on several successful expeditions. On Sears Street they found the alleyway where Scut Farkus chased Ralphie and his friends, and the lot where the bully was beat up as the protagonist muttered unspeakable obscenities. On Queen Street East at St. Patrick Square, they found the lot where the Parkers had purchased their Christmas tree. Near the Cherry Street Bridge, they found the location where the queen mother of dirty words was uttered.
Production designer Reuben Freed’s original sketch of the alley location © Reuben Freed
The permits led the Schwartzes to one other location that had evaded them: the Chop Suey Palace where the Parkers had Chinese Christmas dinner at the end of the film. Before getting the permits, the duo had driven all around Toronto, hoping to see a building that they recognized. A piece of anecdotal history from the shooting further complicated their quest.
In the movie, the sign on the building says “Bo Ling,” but it’s clear that another letter, not glowing pink, is connecting those two words. Rumor had it that location manager Michael MacDonald had found a restaurant to shoo
t in that was attached to a bowling alley. When their aimless driving around proved to be unfruitful, the Schwartzes took to the yellow pages to search not only for Chinese restaurants but also for bowling alleys. It ended up being a wild goose chase.
Bob Clark directs Yano Anaya and Zack Ward © Yano Anaya
According to Brian Jones, the inspiration for the visual joke was inspired by a childhood memory of Ken Goch, the assistant director on the film. His mother had once taken him to a bowling alley that had a sign with a burnt out “w” because she thought it was a Chinese restaurant. Before filming began on the scene, the story was recounted to Bob Clark, who requested a similar sign be placed on the exterior of the restaurant where they’d be shooting.
When the Schwartzes used the information provided on the permits to make their way to the restaurant, the reason they had previously had difficulty finding it became obvious. The eatery, located at 744 Gerrard Street East in Toronto, was now a café that served French cuisine, not Chinese as depicted in the movie. The new owners were just as surprised to find that their location was the site where Ralphie and his family had heard a rousing rendition of “Deck the Halls” from a host of Chinese waiters.
As the Schwartzes were discovering long-lost shooting locations, Tyler mused about what it would be like to create a Canadian equivalent of the Christmas Story House Museum. He wished he could have purchased the Chinese restaurant before it was sold, just as he still wishes he could turn back time and put in a bid for Victoria Public School.
“I’ve daydreamed about it a lot,” he says. “I wish I could have gotten to that school before it was sold to the women’s shelter, but who am I kidding? I couldn’t have afforded to buy an entire school anyway, so that wouldn’t have worked.”
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