1977 was a groundbreaking year in the history of mankind. Star Wars, debuted to thrill millions of fans who had no idea they were actually watching the fourth installment and not the first. The Toronto Blue Jays franchise played their very first game in April. Two one name entertainers, Elvis and Groucho, died in August within days of each other.

And yet each of these seminal events tend to pale when held up to the light of critical observation. Sometimes seminal events are like that. 

So far, this series has led The Three of You™ through my brushes with those whose glowing presence has been well established and universal in their scope of fame. But sometimes fate deals you a hand in the Cosmic Poker Game of Life that looks like a pair of 7's, yet upon further inspection turns out to be a queen high full house.

You see, I once spent six weeks in a summer production of a an original vaudeville show, whose name is mercifully lost to the ages. It played in Old Sacramento's historic Old Eagle Theater. A group of would-be amateur entertainers (that’s right, this group, on the whole, were initially deemed not talented enough to even be characterized as amateurs) auditioned for the show.

Those making the cut were an 87 year old woman singing a charming song from the Gay Nineties, a man playing a saw with a violin bow, several bit or chorus players to fill in various sketches, an a twenty-two year old young man with no apparent gifts, but taking his best shot anyway at doing vaudeville style stand up comedy. That kid was me.

During the run of the show I was singled out by a respected local reviewer as one of two potential stars of the future. Well, at least he got one right. The other was a nine year old girl who completely stole the show by donning in a Shirley Temple dress and sang On the Good Ship Lollipop in addition to a sultry rendition of I Want to Be Loved By You.

Every night the rest of us received polite to moderate applause for our efforts. The kid brought the house down every single time. It’s not that she was overly talented—though surely there was gifting present. What she was was massively cute to a terminal degree.

She moved down to Los Angeles with her parents a couple years later and was cast in the L.A. production of Annie. Having made friends with her parents I flew down from Sacramento to watch the show. It was fun to actually know somebody in such a big production.

Her star kept rising. She was cast on The New Mickey Mouse Club, which I thought was a mistake from the beginning. Let’s face it. Annette, Cubby, and Darlene had executed the concept as well as it could be done in the 1950s. This new version was corporate greed pure and simple.

Still, the young girl kept moving up and her next gig was a short-lived part as one of the original girls in The Facts of Life television show. She wasn’t there long.

She caught the eye of John Cassavedes and was cast as his daughter in the her first feature film The Tempest. Naturally, this was a big step and it only led to others.

And the next jump was huge. She again caught the eye of a young director, John Hughes. She did several films for him including 16 Candles, Pretty in Pink, and The Breakfast Club. She was getting so big that by her late teens there were even rumors flying that she was dating Warren Beatty.

Although I maintained contact with her parents for several years, I never found out if that was actually true. But she had come from a small stage in Sacramento and graduated in a short amount of time to the head of the fabled Hollywood Brat Pack.

By now I think you’ve followed the clues enough to realize that your intrepid correspondent once costarred with none other than a nine year old Molly Ringwald.  

Among my souvenirs of an all-too-brief performing career, one of the treasures I retain is an album Molly recorded when she was about seven. She signed it for me and everything. I don’t believe I’d ever give it up, but it’s somehow comforting to know if things ever got too bad and I needed some cash to pay the rent or feed the family, I probably could get a couple hundred bucks for my autographed copy of I Want to Be Loved By You on eBay.

But I’m pretty sure I’ll hang onto it as long as it helps me hang onto the memory of a star-crossed summer in Sacramento.

How often do you get to watch a shooting star just before it takes off?