After reading the memoirs of “Little House on the Prairie” actresses Melissa Gilbert and Alison Arngrim, both of which depict co-star Melissa Sue Anderson as aloof at best and downright mean at worst, I thought Melissa Sue deserved a chance to defend herself in her own memoir. Whether or not she’s mean, I can’t say. As I think she wrote her memoir after theirs, she had her chance to get back at them, and she didn’t. She told only one negative story about Melissa Gilbert’s attention-seeking and was fairly neutral about Alison. The aloofness, however, does come through. It’s not so much that she didn’t share intimate details about her life – I, for one, don’t want to read about a star’s experiences in the bedroom – but her tone wasn’t as warm or funny as the other two, and all the friends she mentioned had nothing to do with Little House. Also, the dialogue didn’t always seem natural (how many different people called her “kiddo”?) and it was sometimes written in script form, which was gimmicky.
Mostly, the book summarizes the plots of the episodes in Little House where Mary had a key role and gives a little behind-the-scenes description. Since my main interest is what went on behind the scenes, I usually found the plot summaries excessive, but there was one notable exception: where she discussed the research and method she used in playing a blind character. She went to a real school for the blind for training and said, “If there’s one thing I’m proud of, it’s my blind stare.” She’s right; she did a great job at it. Even if she was as cold as her co-stars said she was, they can’t knock her as an actress.
If she dishes the dirt on anyone, it’s Michael Landon. The other two did this to a lesser extent. All three acknowledged his bad temper, his drinking, and how he left his wife for a younger woman. All three respected him professionally and enjoyed working with him. But because Melissa Anderson also had a role in a TV movie about his early life, I learned more about him from her book. She told about his abusive mother and the cruel streak he learned from her. She describes him humiliating a stutterer on set once – something Nellie did in the plot of one episode. Is that where the idea came from? Melissa Anderson doesn’t say so, but that’s how I connect the dots.
So let me take it a few steps further. One of the plots that the book mentions involves Laura and Albert trying to sell some honey to Mrs. Oleson so that they can pay for Mary and Adam to take a stagecoach somewhere. Mrs. Oleson won’t give them the price they want, so they sell her their whole hive, giving her incorrect advice that guarantees that she’ll be stung, probably multiple times. Now I ask you: where is the morality here? Laura is supposed to be good, and Mrs. Oleson is supposed to be bad, so if Laura takes revenge against her, that’s perfectly acceptable, right? How about if that revenge is dangerous and completely out of proportion to the original offense?
Another plot line the book describes is when Mary slaps Nellie. (Alison Arngrim’s book discusses the slap, too.) Apparently, the audience loved it. Heck, I loved watching the Olesons get their come-uppance every week. But the original books don’t condone revenge; just take a look at Ma’s poem to Laura in Little Town on the Prairie. As Alison Arngrim said in her book, Little House was the most Christian series ever shown in the history of television, but this Jew is wondering what happened to the most central value they profess: forgiveness.
Both Melissa Gilbert’s and Melissa Anderson’s books tell the story of the very last episode in which Michael Landon decided to blow up the entire set so that nobody else could use it. In the show, the characters sing “Onward Christian Soldiers” and then use a wagon load of dynamite to keep their town out of the hands of the new landowner. Is that “Christian” behavior?
The fact is, Michael Landon was religiously confused. He was born Eugene Orowitz, the son of a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother. According to Torah, that means he was a non-Jew, but a rabbi officiated at his funeral anyway. As Alison Arngrim pointed out, he gave voice to his unorthodox views on interfaith childrearing by marrying her character to a Jew. She also adds, “Then he just simplified things by making himself an angel” (in his next series “Highway to Heaven”).
Now I don’t mean to bash Michael Landon too hard; his mother sounded like the ultimate witch, and it’s incredible that he grew up to be so successful after such an upbringing. I learned in my own writing classes that the best material comes from our dearest wishes and our deepest fears. Taking revenge on people through writing is considered bad form, but those emotions are probably a rich source of material, too. And Michael Landon tapped into all of it: he created his dearest wish by creating the idyllic TV family. He tapped into our worst fears with all the melodrama that was such a departure from the books. And he gave us revenge: Laura versus Nellie week after week. And thousands of people loved it, including me.
This review has gone far astray of Melissa Anderson’s book. It’s interesting only if you really loved “Little House.” I really loved “Little House,” and I love knowing that out of all those crazy Laura/Nellie fight scenes grew a decades-long friendship, which is the lesson you’ll get from Alison Arngrim’s book. But considering that rebellious Rose Wilder may have been the real author of the books and that neither Rose nor Laura got any of the wealth created by the TV series, I guess Michael Landon’s dark side is just one more irony of the entire “Little House” phenomenon.