Stage fright. This reporter understands it firsthand, having suffered a serious bout of it during a second-grade play. I wore a great costume (a Pilgrim suit, if memory serves me correctly) and had my lines memorized. But when my teacher tried to push me out onto the stage, I heard the voices of audience members and panicked. Not only was I frozen in place at the idea of performing in public, I have remained thus for over twenty years.
Yes, stage fright is a problem, even for those who are exceptionally gifted. And though they may not show it, many of today’s stars enter the stage or set with knees knocking. Take Elvis, for example. Here’s what he had to say on the subject: “I’ve never gotten over what they call stage fright. I go through it every show. I’m pretty concerned, I’m pretty much thinking about the show. I never get completely comfortable with it, and I don’t let the people around me get comfortable with it, in that I remind them that it’s a new crowd out there, it’s a new audience, and they haven’t seen us before. So it’s got to be like the first time we go on.”
And lest you think Elvis is alone in his jittery state, ask those who’ve worked with the gorgeous Marilyn Monroe. Her classmates at the Actors Studio would attest to the fact that stage fright was one of her biggest obstacles.
And these two stars are not alone. During a live production of Hamlet, the great Laurence Olivier once completely blanked out in the middle of the infamous “to be or not to be” soliloquy. His solution? He took a seat on the stage, where he remained until the lines came to him.
Yes, stage fright can do strange things to a person, even one who is completely prepared. When you walk onto the stage and the lights hit you squarely in the face…when the audience cheers and your name is hollered from the rafters…chances are you’re going to forget…just about everything.
— Reporting for Hollywood Heartthrob magazine, “On the Big Screen” columnist, Cinema Cindy
* * * * *
Debbie awoke early on Saturday morning. Still exhausted from her work over the past few days, she found herself wishing she could sleep in. Then, as she came fully awake, she remembered: today’s the day!
She bolted upright in bed, her thoughts now tumbling madly. There were so many things to do. First, of course, she needed to shower and slip into a clean, pressed Peppermints uniform. Several photographers were bound to be in attendance, and she needed to look her best. For a moment she allowed her thoughts to travel to the role she would play as Bobby’s backup singer. A wave of nausea passed over her as nerves kicked in. How had she landed center stage in all of this, when she’d only meant to play a role in the background?
Still, if she could get over the jitters, this would turn out to be a day for the record books, one she would tell her grandchildren about.
Grandchildren. Hmm.
Thinking about the future, of course, brought her thoughts around to Johnny, the one she hoped to be spending it with. With each passing day—with every single breath—she clearly saw what the Lord had been doing all along. While she had been chasing after Mr. Wrong, her heavenly Father had placed Mr. Right directly in her path. Would she have overlooked him if the Lord hadn’t been so clear? Debbie shuddered, thinking about it. For, while she didn’t even realize she could feel this strongly about Johnny a week or two ago, she now wondered how she could get along without him. She prayed she wouldn’t have to.
Thoughts of him brought the usual sense of expectation. He would be arriving at ten. She’d better get busy!
A couple of shouts from outside caught her attention. She peered out the window, stunned to see a sea of girls in the vacant field next door. It was a good thing they couldn’t get onto the property just yet. Not without going through the officers, anyway. Still, who would have guessed Orange County’s teen girls would turn up this early? She’d better get this show on the road.
By nine o’clock, the Carmichael family was pressed, dressed, and headed downstairs. All the activity would shift outdoors once the show began at noon. For now, Debbie and the others had plenty to keep them busy inside the shop. They weren’t serving breakfast customers, as they would usually do on a Saturday morning. They’d changed the diner’s hours for the day, canceling breakfast altogether. With such a huge lunch crowd headed in, there simply wasn’t time or energy to handle breakfast, too.
They’d modified the menu for the event, too, offering only burgers, hot dogs, fries, onion rings, shakes, malts, and sodas, which Junior had already started preparing in abundance. Several of the local residents—including some ministers and their families—had offered to serve as waiters, carrying food out to the parking lot to guests when the time came. What fun! Debbie could hardly wait to see them decked out in Sweet Sal’s hats and aprons.
Buzzing around in happy anticipation, her mother sang along with Patti Page, whose beautiful voice rang out from the jukebox. Debbie smiled as she listened to her mother join in, singing the words to “Tennessee Waltz” in perfect harmony. How come she’d never noticed her mom’s singing ability before? Or her own, for that matter. Deciding a warm-up was in order, Debbie added her voice to the fray.
At ten o’clock several of Laguna Beach’s finest officers entered the soda shop, looking frazzled. With the help of the mayor and police chief, they came up with a quick plan of action for how they would protect Bobby and Johnny from the expected onslaught of girls. They also set up a plan for the crowd. One of the officers—Sergeant Tompkins—estimated there were already at least three hundred girls outside, waiting in the field next door, with dozens more arriving every few minutes.
“Thank goodness we had the foresight to rope off the parking lot last night,” he explained. “Otherwise we’d have a real mess on our hands. We’re probably going to end up with over a thousand people here, the way things are going. Maybe more.”
Debbie could only manage one word: “Wow.”
“What happens next?” her father asked.
“Well, we’re about to create an opening where they can come through,” the sergeant explained. “Your audience members will have to pass by the folks with the donation buckets to get inside the stage area.”
“Hopefully dropping something in the buckets,” one of the other officers said then chuckled.
“Yes,” Sergeant Tompkins added. “Once they come through that opening, they can find a place to stand near the stage. I dare say the stage will be circled on all sides, mostly by females in their teens and twenties.”
“And late forties,” Debbie’s mother said then winked.
The good sergeant went on to explain that the officers would do their best to keep a path between the stage and the soda shop door so the waiters could come and go, and so Bobby and Johnny could safely move in and out.
“I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to thank you,” Debbie’s pop said at last. “It’s wonderful, what you’re doing.”
“All in a day’s work, Frankie,” one of the officers said. “Besides, this is the best thing to ever happen to Laguna Beach. It really puts us on the map.”
The officers headed back outside just as Ginny arrived with Cassie Perkins at her side. Cassie held up a hand-painted bucket with the word DONATIONS on the front.
“We have dozens of these,” she said. “The police officers are holding them. So are the firefighters and the mailmen. You should see Clifford. He’s having the time of his life out there. The whole thing is… wonderful!”
“We’re already collecting money,” Ginny added. “Lots of it.” She handed her bucket to Debbie, who whistled when she saw the bills inside.
“I’m stunned.” Debbie could hardly imagine how this would turn out.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Ginny added. “But my parents are here.”
To keep an eye on us, no doubt. Debbie forced a smiled but couldn’t help feeling like a cloud had suddenly swept in. She prayed Mr. Anderson wouldn’t do anything to dampen the mood of the patrons today.
“My father actually dropped a ten-dollar bill in the bucket,” Ginny said. She laughed. “Can you believe it?”
“Crazy.” That was all Debbie could manage, but under the circumstances, it was probably enough.
The girls went back outside, chattering all the way. At five minutes after ten, Bobby arrived in his red Corvette. A crowd of girls immediately swarmed him. He could barely pull the car up to the curb without bumping into them. Only the shrill whistle of the police officer persuaded the girls to back off and let him approach.
When he got out of the car, Bobby was nearly ambushed again. Sergeant Tomkins and the other officers managed to get the crowd under control and ushered him safely inside. Still, Debbie had to wonder how they would manage once Bobby took the stage at noon. She also wondered why Johnny and Jim hadn’t shown up yet.
She continued to wonder—and worry—about them as the minutes ticked by.
“They said ten o’clock, right?” she asked her father.
“Yes.” He glanced at his watch. “Jim’s rarely late.”
“Strange. I hope they’re okay.” Debbie paced the restaurant, her nerves almost getting the best of her.
“You okay?” Bobby’s voice rang out, his concern evident.
“Oh, I…” She paused. “I’m worried about Johnny.”
“He’ll be here soon.” Bobby reached to touch her arm and—in spite of her best attempts—she couldn’t drum up so much as a tingle. Nothing.
Bobby is a tree.
Now, where is my forest?
She gave Bobby a smile. “I’m just anxious, I guess.”
“I can see why,” he responded. “It’s so obvious that the Lord has done something pretty special by bringing Johnny all the way from Topeka, Kansas, to meet you.”
Debbie felt a rush of warmth rise to her cheeks. She managed a little, “Mm-hmm,” before heading back to the window to peer outside.
At exactly eleven o’clock, as the crowd outside grew to a near-frightening level, folks from the media began to arrive. The first to set up in the field next door was a camera crew from a television station in Los Angeles. Next came several newspaper reporters. Debbie watched it all, dumbfounded. What would they do if Johnny didn’t make it?
Finally, at eleven-fifteen, Jim’s car pulled up. She watched out the window as police offered Johnny an escort inside. By the time he made it through the throng of females, Johnny’s eyes were wide, and he looked a little pale. Until he saw Debbie. Then a smile as bright as the summer sun lit his face and he drew near, drawing her into a comfortable embrace.
“I thought we’d never make it.” He kissed her on the forehead. “The traffic on the Coastal Highway is unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Well, of course it’s unbelievable,” an unfamiliar voice called out. “People from all corners of Southern California are coming to see you.”
Debbie turned to see an older woman with dark curly hair, dressed in a stylish suit. Another woman stood directly behind her with a not-so-happy look on her face.
The older woman held up a press badge. “Hope you don’t mind, but the nice sergeant let me inside. Hedda Hopper. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”
“I saw him first, Hedda. You cover Bobby. I get the new kid.”
Hedda turned to face the other woman, the color draining from her cheeks. “Louella. Good to see you.”
“Humph.” A short response from Louella, but enough to send a little shiver down Debbie’s spine.
Within minutes Eddie Jennings—Bobby’s deejay friend from L.A.—arrived. Debbie kept a watchful eye out for Cinema Cindy, or perhaps Hepcat Harry. Surely they would get here soon.
She never had a chance to find out. Within minutes, she was serving sodas, malts, and shakes to all of the reporters. Then, at exactly eleven forty-five, the noise level in the parking lot rose to a near-deafening level. Junior worked in the kitchen with Pop at his side. Debbie prayed the strain of the day would not be too much for her father. She was thankful that a handful of his friends from church had offered their services.
Through the plate glass windows, Debbie watched the teen girls grow more frantic with each passing moment. Those closest to the shop pressed their faces against the glass, trying to get a better look inside, a few shouting out Bobby’s name.
“They’re like a lynch mob,” Debbie said. “It’s crazy.”
“They’re just impatient,” her mother said. “They’ll settle down as soon as Bobby takes the stage.”
“I hope so.” Debbie watched as several of the teens left lipstick prints on the glass. A couple of them even spelled out Bobby and Johnny’s names in lipstick, as well. Backwards, of course. One girl began to rap on the glass, hollering out Bobby’s name then chanting, “Come out! Come out! Come out!”
Thankfully, an officer stopped her. In that moment, the whole thing became very real. Overwhelmingly real. Debbie thought she might lose all control of her senses. Then she spotted Johnny, who gave her a little wink. Suddenly, the planets aligned themselves once again and she could breathe normally.
At about that time, Ginny and Cassie made their way inside once more, this time looking a little wild-eyed and winded.
“It’s crazy out there,” Cassie said. “I think every girl in Laguna Beach is here.”
Ginny nodded. “And half of Orange County.”
“We got a call this morning from a girls’ school in Los Angeles,” Debbie said. “They’re sending seventy girls for the second set.”
“Lots of donations still coming in from the girls,” Ginny said. “But I’m going to take a break for a couple of minutes to say hello to Bobby before he goes onstage.” She turned toward the office, where Bobby and Johnny were chatting with a few of the reporters.
“I promised Becky Ann I’d help wait on customers once the concert started,” Cassie said. “Looks like I’d better get to it.” She, too, disappeared from sight.
Debbie headed outside, where she did her best to help the waiters keep up with the ongoing demand for food and drinks.
At twelve o’clock the girls outside began to clap in steady rhythm. Debbie sensed their impatience more than ever. She knew that Johnny and Bobby were safely tucked away in Pop’s office. She managed to squeeze through the mob to get inside the shop just before they were escorted out.
Once inside, she saw Ginny and Bobby huddled together in the corner of the room. They appeared to be praying. Jim had allowed a handful of reporters in and they stood between her and the person she most wanted to see.
Johnny. Wonderful, handsome Johnny. Tears threatened to cover her lashes as she caught a glimpse of him. She fought her way through the crowd, finally reaching him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“I see tears. Is everything okay?”
She couldn’t keep the waterworks at bay. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you’re doing this for us?”
Johnny smiled. “You don’t have to tell me. I know you are.”
“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for my family,” she whispered, burying her head against his neck. “It means the world to me.”
“Then the feeling is mutual.” Johnny’s next words nearly took her breath away. “Because you mean the world to me.”
Debbie gazed up into his eyes, her heart racing. She wanted to thank him with a thousand kisses, but with so many people looking on, she didn’t dare. Instead, she whispered, “That was so sweet.”
“No,” he whispered back, his words soft against her hair. “You’re the one who’s sweet.” His hands began to tremble, and his next words came out a little shaky. “It’s easy to love someone as sweet as you.”
She almost stopped breathing at those words. Debbie looked into his eyes, noticing he’d gone misty, too. She couldn’t help herself. Really, she couldn’t. She repaid his words with a kiss that he wouldn’t soon forget.
Then, when the clicking of cameras began to sound out across the room, she realized it might very well be a kiss that his fans wouldn’t soon forget, either. Not that she cared. No, right now she only cared about one thing—the man wrapped safely in her arms.
* * * * *
Johnny felt like shouting for joy as Debbie responded to his words of love. Unfortunately, so did the reporters, who snapped photos right and left. Many of them let out a whoop or holler. He could sense Jim’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. Honestly, the only opinion that mattered to him right now—short of the Lord’s, anyway—was Debbie’s. And she was apparently happy to share her thoughts through her kiss.
Just about the time Johnny and Debbie came up for air, Jim ushered the media folks out of the room. He quirked a brow at Johnny and let out a whistle.
Johnny laughed. “Sorry, but for a minute there I forgot we weren’t alone.”
“Obviously.” Jim chuckled. “Nothing to be ashamed of, son. You’ve got people talking, and that’s a good thing. Besides, everyone loves a love story, and you two…” He shook his head. “Well, you two are obviously quite the story.”
Debbie’s cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t say a word. Not that she needed to. No, she’d said plenty with her kiss.
From outside the soda shop, the roar of the crowd grew louder. Jim glanced at his watch. “It’s ten after. Don’t think we can hold ’em off any longer. You boys ready?”
“Ready,” Bobby called out from the corner. “Want to lead the way, Jim?”
“Sure.”
“Should I stay in here while he sings?” Johnny asked.
“No, c’mon out and let me introduce both of my boys together,” Jim said. “Then you and the girls can sit in the reserved section on the stage while Bobby performs so you’re close.”
“Sounds good.” Johnny took Debbie by the hand and whispered, “Are you ready for this?”
She looked for a moment like she might be sick, but nodded anyway.
The next few minutes were a blur. Somehow, Jim, Bobby, Johnny, Debbie, and the other Peppermints made it through the mob. They managed to make it up the steps to the stage. Johnny gave Debbie’s hand a squeeze as she took a seat in one of the reserved seats, alongside Becky Ann and Martha Lou. The younger girls teased the audience by blowing kisses and waving, but Debbie still looked like she might be ill. Jim gestured for Johnny to sit in the empty seat to Bobby’s right. Then Jim approached the microphone. The crowd went crazy. The screams from the girls nearly scared Johnny witless. He’d never heard anything so loud. If things didn’t calm down, his nerves might not be able to take it. A couple of teenage girls rushed the stage, but an officer stopped them and ushered them back to where they’d come from.
Jim’s voice rang out across the crowd: “Thank you all for coming to this special event to benefit Sweet Sal’s Soda Shoppe!”
Another cheer went up.
Jim said a few more words, none of them intelligible through the shouts, then hollered, “Welcome, Bobby Conrad!”
Again, the crowd went crazy. Squeals and screams filled the parking lot from one end to the other. Sounded like hundreds—no, thousands. Johnny had a feeling folks all the way to Topeka could hear the shouts.
Bobby rose to stand before the crowd looking cool as a cucumber.
Johnny listened in amazement as his friend sang the first song. The crowd seemed to love it. One girl even fainted. She came to moments later and continued squealing with gusto. Next, Debbie, Becky Ann, and Martha Lou rose and joined Bobby, singing backup on “First Kiss.” The crowd went crazy. For that matter, so did Martha Lou, who apparently liked being in the spotlight. She blew kisses at everyone as she exited the stage after the number. Debbie, on the other hand, looked like she couldn’t get off the stage fast enough. Oh, but how wonderful she had sounded!
As Bobby wrapped up his final number, Johnny’s mouth went dry. He took a sip from a glass of water Jim had placed nearby, but that didn’t help. In fact, he wondered if his teeth were stuck to the inside of his lips. Would he even be able to sing?
Hmm. No time to ponder that for long. Bobby’s set came to an end, and Jim approached the microphone to calm the crowd. Once their cheers died down, the moment arrived that Johnny had both dreaded and looked forward to.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is now my pleasure to introduce the next Hollywood heartthrob—all the way from Topeka, Kansas— Johnny Hartmann!”
Debbie gave him an encouraging smile, and Johnny attempted to stand. His legs felt like gelatin. Somehow he made it to the microphone and lifted his guitar from the stand.
Deep breath.
In that moment, as the crowd carried on with full abandon, Johnny whispered up a prayer that the Lord would keep him standing aright. Then he lifted the guitar and the crowd stilled. The first couple of chords were shaky, but Johnny closed his eyes, losing himself in the music, as always.
He couldn’t keep his eyes closed for long, however. No, this time it only made sense to sing “Dear Debbie” directly to the girl he’d written it for. So he did. Debbie’s sweet expression kept him going, not just through that song, but the second, as well. And when he finished “Oceans of Love,” the overwhelming response from the crowd startled him. So did the tears. It seemed like most of the girls were crying.
Hmm. Might as well keep the mood sweet and steady. Johnny leaned forward into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to sing a song that means a lot to me. It’s one you all know, so feel free to sing along. I’m going to ask a very special girl to join me to sing backup.”
He could read the fear on Debbie’s face as he extended his hand her way. She shook her head, but he wasn’t going to give up that quickly. With a tender gaze, he sent out a final request, and she finally acquiesced. Debbie joined him at the microphone, eyes wide and face bright red.
“I don’t know the part,” she whispered.
“Sure you do,” he whispered back. “Just listen close and come in whenever it feels right.”
He strummed the first few chords of “Love Me Tender,” and the fear in Debbie’s eyes quickly faded. By the time he sang the words, “You have made my life complete,” she had joined him, her soft soprano the perfect complement. When they added the next line, “And I love you so,” Johnny realized he’d not only shared his true feelings with Debbie…but with a watching world.
Not that he minded sharing in such a public fashion. Oh no. From this day forth, he would go on singing about his love for her, and about the One who had brought him all the way from Topeka, Kansas, to find her. A flood of emotions washed over Johnny as the words to the song continued. For, while he had often dreamed of a life in the spotlight, he’d never realized the only light he’d ever needed was the one that guided him straight into Debbie Carmichael’s arms.