When you’re an Italian kid, you’re taught never to disrespect your elders. Even in moments of great distress, that rule is never suspended. I learned that the hard way, on Friday, May 18, 1979, during the major cultural event known simply as… “Leif”.
It may be difficult for younger people to understand the significance of TV specials back then, when we had one chance a year to see Wizard of Oz, and a new made-for-tv movie or series pilot might never be seen again. I had already suffered the frustration of having The Man from Atlantis and Patrick Duffy in his signature aviators (which I later learned were a huge trend in China called “Mike Glasses”) pre-empted again and again before being cancelled, so when Leif Garrett’s TV special aired, I was going to absorb every second of his shaggy locks and silken lashes as he bantered with Bob Hope and Flip Wilson, flirted with Brooke Shields, and danced and pranced through his musical numbers.
TV nights were a big deal in our house back then, when a new special or movie premiere turned into a big event. We’d sometimes order pizza, and I would sit on the floor between my Mom and Grandma, who had chairs facing across the room toward the big console with family pictures and keepsakes on top. Often, the feature presentation would have a star my Mom or Grandma liked, maybe Burt Reynolds, or Liberace, or Robert Urich (I like him too). This night, however, Leif Garrett was the star. Androgynous, perpetually smiling with heavy-lidded doe eyes, hands on hips cocked to one side like a muppet Mick Jagger, he was the center of the little girl universe at that time, and would remain so for about another 3 weeks. Mid-season 1979 TV had nothing to complete that night, with the doomed Hello, Larry as top challenger, and Rockford Files wouldn’t tempt my mom for another hour. This was my night.
As the show opened, guest stars told mild, corny jokes that made me giggle. When Flip Wilson appeared, I knew my grandma would like that. He was a favorite of mine too, and his Geraldine character may possibly have sparked my lifelong love of drag performers. Then, after each guest- Bob Hope, Marie Osmond, Brooke Shields- Leif would briefly enter the frame to flash a smile.
Had I not been so absorbed by teen idol charm, I might have noticed a puzzled look beginning to spread across Grandma’s face. By the time Pink Lady finished speaking Japanese, which was apparently hilarious at the time, Grandma uttered a comment so offensive to my 8-year-old self, it provoked me like few other verbal assaults would in my life to this day. Worse yet, she interrupted Leif himself, when she uttered the unthinkable: “That looks like a little girl! That’s a little girl!” I could hold my tongue no more, and before I realized what had happened, it was out of my mouth: “He’s not a girl, he’s a boy! Shut up!” And then, they were upon me.
With terrible suddenness, I felt open-handed slaps striking the top of my head from all directions at once. Mom and Grandma had an insurmountable tactical advantage, flanking me from high ground on earth-toned, cloth upholstered chairs (because brown goes with everything). Non-Italians may not realize that the head was (maybe still is) fair game for corporal punishment, at least in the immigrant or working-class Italian-American home. The “watch the hair” scene in Saturday Night Fever is practically documentarian in its accuracy, including the love and pride that is always part of family life.
The onslaught lasted only seconds, and then, just like that, my punishment was over, and we were right back to watching Leif try to prove he was “made for dancing” as he drowsily drifted through scripted, nearly-romantic exchanges with 14 year old Brooke Shields. I recovered instantly from my punishment, which was much more noisy than physical, but I never forgot the lesson: Show respect, and don’t ever tell Grandma to shut up.
So, if you’re out there reading this, Leif, I took one defending you. You’re welcome.