While the store didn’t appear to be a year older than 1933, the main issue was that, by January, it looked a few weeks older than Christmas. To accommodate the filming, the management agreed to consolidate their merchandise — they remained open throughout the filming week — and allowed the crew to build Mount Olympus right in the heart of their main floor. Since the filming started after 6 p.m. on shooting days, many confused shoppers were privy to the spectacle of the large contraption made of wood, cotton batting, paper, and lots of sparkly, silver glitter. Those curious enough to ask were told a movie was being filmed, but many more likely just thought the department store was weeks late in dismantling their overly elaborate decorations for the holidays.
The children used as extras in the film were mostly the friends and family members of Higbee’s employees. While the twelve-hour shoot certainly took a toll on the children, they weren’t the only ones vulnerable to bouts of fatigue.
“I couldn’t take off work, so I was pretty much working for twenty-four hours straight,” Patty recalls. “After two days of doing that, I wasn’t really acting my anger anymore. I hadn’t slept in days. They put that suit and that heavy hat on me and I was ready to roll.”
Each day, Patty would arrive at the store, get into her costume, have her makeup done, and be escorted to her makeshift dressing room in a conference room on the tenth floor. Long periods of waiting on a film set are the norm, and the department store location shoot was no different. Throughout the evening and well into the twilight hours, Patty would drift in and out of consciousness, often with a cup of coffee in one hand, waiting to be summoned on the walkie talkie by the production assistants.
“Being half dozy and dazed contributed greatly to my personification of evil,” she jokes.
The one saving grace was that there were no more lost meals as a result of A Christmas Story. She may have had to skip lunch for her auditions, but she enjoyed full dinners in the middle of the night, courtesy of the film’s producers.
“Usually on a set they’d round you up for a dinner call,” she says. “They had us segregated. All the extras and everyone on the Santa line went somewhere else. They were getting things like macaroni and hamburger and we, the people with the contracts, were getting stuff like stuffed Cornish hens.”
Being a professional actor may have had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks. The set was primarily made up of amateur and non-professional actors, with whom Patty and Drew Hocevar, her elfin partner-in-crime, had to act throughout most of the six-day shoot.
Drew initially tried to get cast in the film during a cattle call for extras to appear in the department store scenes. He was passed over, but ultimately earned the more substantial role of the male elf, Patty’s assistant, when the casting director learned he had previously been hired at Higbee’s to play a toy soldier and astronaut in their “Santaland” holiday experience.
Drew Hocevar, Jeff Gillen, and Patty Johnson © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
Patty Johnson and Peter Billingsley © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
While they appear to be of comparable importance on screen, there was a significant difference between the two actors. Patty signed a contract with the film’s producers and continues to collect residuals from the film to this day. Conversely, Drew requested a similar deal, but was told he’d be replaced if he demanded anything more than the hourly minimum wage for his acting services.
Despite their differences, they did have one thing in common — unending annoyance at having to endure dozens of takes because of the child extras they were working with.
“There were lots of moments in that movie that we had to do thirty, forty times, over and over again,” she says. “Santa and the other elves just sat on their booties and watched from their little perches, but I had to go up and down those stairs, dragging those kids that were almost as big as me, up and down for every take. I’m picking ’em up off their feet and throwing ’em on Santa’s lap, and I’m telling you, some of those kids shouldn’t have been eating carbs that year. It was not an easy job! That also helped me tremendously with my character. After your thirtieth or fortieth take of the same fifteen-second scene, it started to become something they call ‘method acting.’”
Drew Hocevar and Jeff Gillen © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
According to Drew, Peter Billingsley was hardly ever responsible for any holdups. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Ian Petrella. The young actor was afraid of the large set and would freak out whenever he made his way to the top of Mount Olympus.
“That kid got heavy after thirty times,” Drew sighs, reflecting on the multitude of takes required to get the right shot.
However, that wasn’t the only lack of focus Ian had on the set. Careful observers of the scene will notice moments of Randy breaking character and smiling off camera. Apparently, according to Petrella, the goof was all due to a girl named Celeste.
© MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
© MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
In the scene, several adult actors were dressed like characters from The Wizard of Oz. Celeste, who was standing behind Petrella in line, was deathly afraid of the Cowardly Lion and would break out into screams whenever the actor in feline clothing approached. Petrella found this hilarious, and even after she calmed down and stopped screaming, the memory of her cries ran through his head, occasionally making him giggle during the shooting of that scene.
While the kids were sometimes a source of irritation for the elves, they didn’t seem to be a bother at all for director Bob Clark. As with the principal child actors, he seemed to have a unique ability to relate to the children and get the most out of their performances.
“The one thing I have found to be interesting, since I’ve been an adult, was the great job Bob Clark did with those kids,” Patty says. “Oh my God, it was unbelievable. He just had those kids on task and they were having fun and he had everything going so smoothly. He was like a big kid himself, so he felt like he was part of the pack.”
Not only was Clark fun for the children, but he also gave the adults on set plenty of reason to chuckle, too. Patty and Drew became fast friends and, during their downtime, they would visit Jeff Gillen, the actor inside the Santa suit, to share some laughs. The three would become filled with a little dash of worry and a big helping of holiday cheer whenever the director approached Mount Olympus, which was less unflinching than the nickname suggested.
“The set was not particularly stable,” Patty says. “When people would come up and down those stairs, we would be trying to hang on for dear life up there. The worst-case scenario was when Bob Clark would run up those stairs and give us a direction. He liked to go down on that slide, so he’d plop himself down and we’d be airborne! And there was nothing to hold on to up there. Once you were up near Santa’s throne, you were screwed. There was nothing to hang on to. We had quite a few close calls up there.”
Bob Clark directs Peter Billingsley and Ian Petrella © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
At the bottom of the mountain, two special Higbee’s customers stand out for careful observers of the film — writer Jean Shepherd turns up as the man in the black hat who tells Ralphie and Randy that the back of the line to see Santa is at the other end of the department store, along with his wife, Leigh Brown. While the sequence gets a lot of attention nowadays, when it was being filmed, Patty Johnson says Shepherd barely made an impression on her.
“I think I remember meeting him,” she says. “But it wasn’t a big thing. It was just sort of like, ‘oh, here’s the guy who wrote this.’”
Perhaps Shepherd chose this scene for his cameo appearance because it was one that had particular resonance for him. While the bulk of the movie is loosely based on his childhood experiences, the storyteller recalled in 1997 how this scene c
losely mirrored what occurred the first time he saw the jolly fat man in a department store.
Jeff Gillen and Peter Billingsley © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
“You know, I had been thinking for weeks what I wanted for Christmas,” he said. “I figured the best thing to do was tell Santa Claus about that. I looked up at that Santa Claus and he had these big, watery blue eyes and a huge beard. He was so impressive that my mind went blank. It’s like if all of a sudden you’re sitting on the president’s lap and he says, ‘What would you like for me to pass in legislation, sonny?’ Your mind’s going to go blank!
“So, at that point, Santa Claus said, ‘Ho-ho-ho, how ’bout a football, kid?’ Football,” he continued. “I wanted a BB gun! So he pushed me off his lap and this elf grabbed me and threw me down a slide that went down into the snow. I laid there for a minute and knew I wasn’t a fit person to talk to the great Santa Claus [who was] obviously a star.”
Filming wrapped after a Saturday daytime shoot. Patty returned the costume, thanked God that she would never have to wear that annoying headpiece ever again, and told the director she appreciated the opportunity.
On the seventh day she rested for the first time in almost a week.
CHAPTER THREE
St. Catharines and the No-Show Snow
The weeks following the Christmas holiday every year were always filled with excitement for the students of Victoria Public School in St. Catharines, Ontario. They would compare what Santa had brought each of them and which family members had given the most embarrassing gift. However, as it is the role of children to be distracted in the weeks immediately following an extended break from school, it is the role of the faculty to try to retain order and normalcy.
That is, of course, unless a production company asks to film a major motion picture in your school. If that happens, the faculty is allowed to throw formalities out the window. After all, the rules are meant to be broken. What better place is there to learn that valuable life lesson than in school?
Bob Clark and Ian Petrella © Ian Petrella
Marshall Pomroy, the school principal in 1983, was faced with this very scenario and, as any reasonable administrator would, he seized the opportunity to promote his school and provide an excellent and, yes, educational experience to his students. “It sounds corny, but everyone’s excited,” he said at the time. “It will also give us an ideal opportunity to follow up after it’s all over and try to incorporate some of the experiences into the school curriculum.”
Although Cleveland has since been identified as the primary location for filming A Christmas Story, the majority of the movie was actually shot in Canada. Director Bob Clark made a second home of America’s northern neighbor, and for many reasons, he preferred to shoot his movies there.
“I was recently in Cleveland and decided to go on the tour of the Christmas Story House,” says Tyler Schwartz of RetroFestive, a company that sells replica leg lamps in Canada. “The guide said, ‘The movie was shot in Cleveland and, oh, by the way, they popped up to Canada to shoot a couple scenes.’ I understand why they tell that story, but it’s not true at all.
“Bob Clark mostly made his movies in Canada, mostly for tax shelter purposes, but also because he had a place up here,” Schwartz continues. “All his crew was Canadian. In many respects, it was a Canadian movie, and, oh, by the way, they popped down to Cleveland because that’s where they found Higbee’s and they needed a house nearby.”
Because Clark’s films were never big-budget productions, even after the amazing success of Porky’s, he never had the luxury of sparing no expense when it came to filming. Canada provided an economic incentive for the filmmaker that enabled him to keep his costs low and his chance for strong returns high.
“He was always looking for a good deal and how to make his movies as affordably as he could,” Schwartz continues. “Back in the day, Canada offered some of the best tax subsidies and that is the heart of why he shot his movies in Canada. I’m sure he appreciated Canadian actors, but it was cheaper to do it in Canada.”
When it came time to search for the location that would serve as Warren G. Harding Elementary School, the director sent location manager Michael MacDonald and his team to Canada to find the perfect place that could appear to look like America in the 1940s. “We looked at a great number of cities, but this school and the surrounding neighborhood houses provided the period we needed,” MacDonald said in 1983.
What set Victoria Public School apart from the others was not only the look and feel of the building but also how it would look on film in an establishing wide shot. The other schools under consideration had modern buildings behind them that would have been difficult to work around, so Victoria, framed by nothing but trees and sky, came out on top.
MacDonald approached the principal, presented him with a script, and asked for permission to not only shoot the film at Victoria Public School but also use the students as extras in the movie. The principal was receptive and, with the approval of the school board, a quick decision was made to move forward with the project.
Christmas Tree Films made an unusual offer to the school district for the ability to use their building and cast their students as extras. The school would be paid $3.50 per hour for each of the students working as extras. In essence, the kids would be donating their time to the school district.
“All the kids received a dollar,” Tyler Schwartz says. “I used to think it was a dollar a day, but no, it was actually just a dollar, so they’d be on the books. I’m not sure if this would have happened in the United States in 1983, but it happened at St. Catharines.”
Auditions were held on January 7 for schoolchildren to serve as extras. Michael MacDonald put all the students through a quick screen test and took their photographs. They were divided into two groups: twenty students who would serve as Ralphie’s classmates in the classroom scenes, and those who would be the onlookers for the exterior shots near the flagpole. The students’ parents were given contracts and invited to sign on the dotted line. Their kids were about to be in a major motion picture.
For the students, the thrill of being cast in a movie was exciting, even if they were barely receiving enough monetary compensation to purchase a candy bar between takes.
“I’m so excited, I’ve never been asked to be in a movie before,” eleven-year-old Rhonda Seligy said as she was being fitted for a costume. “I want to work my way up to Hollywood, and my mom thinks I’m going to make it. She told me to smile and talk clearly.”
Ernest Harris Jr., who was in fifth grade at the time, says he and his younger siblings, Julene and Vic, were selected as extras because they were the only black family at the school. The affirmative-action casting decision didn’t get in the way of the delight he felt when he was told he’d been chosen to appear in the film. “It was completely amazing,” he said. “I remember high-fiving a friend in the hall when we found out we’d be in the classroom scene. Someone else did a cartwheel. It was completely spectacular.”
The only significant snag that came out of the screen test and costume fittings was that the boys had to get 1940s haircuts. Some of the boys only agreed reluctantly to allow the team from St. Catharines’ Career School of Hairdressing to cut their hair in one of the classrooms, but others didn’t mind, as long as they were going to be included in the movie: “I don’t really care about that,” eleven-year-old Jeff Nickerson said. “I’m just lucky to get the chance.”
The students of Victoria Public School getting their hair cut © Anne Dean
Bob Clark directs Tedde Moore © St. Catharines Museum
For the role of the teacher, Miss Shields, director Bob Clark went to Tedde Moore, a veteran actress of the stage and screen, whom he first met when she auditioned for a role in his 1979 film Murder by Decree. “He just hired me to play Donald Sutherland’s wife [in the film],” Mo
ore explains. “I was four months pregnant, but off I went to England to make this movie and it was a success. It was one of my great lifetime experiences, and I always consider really good experiences in the theater or in film gifts because they don’t happen very often. Most of the time acting feels like work, but I felt Murder by Decree was a great gift.”
A year later, when the director was seeking an actress for his next film, Moore once again hoped to land a part. “I met Bob Clark again when I auditioned for his 1980 film Tribute,” she recalls. “The call went out for an actor prepared to expose her breasts on screen. In those days it was a big issue and a lot of actors took great offense to being asked those things. So Bob being Bob said, ‘Here’s the deal,’ before anyone came in. ‘I don’t want to have that discussion with them. They need to know that at some point in the script she rips her shirt off.’ So, me being me, I’m a dreadful exhibitionist, I said ‘I’m there.’ I thought the script was wonderful and I knew Jack Lemmon was going to be in it and I thought, ‘Wow! How fantastic,’ [and] I went and auditioned for him, but I didn’t get that role.”
After her second audition for Clark, Moore appeared in the 1981 film The Amateur and continued taking bit parts on television. “Bob was editing Porky’s 2 when he ran into my husband, Don Shebib, who is a filmmaker and was good friends with him,” Moore continues. “Bob said, ‘Oh, I have a part for Tedde in my next film. Get her to call me, I’m shooting in minutes.’”
A Christmas Story: Behind the Scenes of a Holiday Classic Page 6
