Prairie Tale by Melissa Gilbert Read Free Book Online

anything. It was a power, a mix of charisma and confidence that affected other people.
    In the hands of an actor, it was a powerful tool. It filled the room. Michael did more than that, though. He raised the temperature. And he wasn’t just planning to star in the show. He was also the executive producer, writer, director, producer, cheerleader, boss, coach, and surrogate dad.
    You’re either intimidated by the kind of person who has that mojo or you’re comfortable with it, and I was totally at ease as we chatted and he listened to me read. Midway through the reading, he poked his head out the door and gave the okay sign to my mother and grandmother, who were waiting anxiously for me to come out. Apparently my grandfather had also gotten word to him that I was Hesch’s grandkid.
    A week later I went back for a screen test. A couple other girls had also been called back. Each of us filmed a scene with Michael and another one with Melissa Sue Anderson, who had already been cast as older sister Mary Ingalls. We worked on a soundstage, which was always exciting. But the day ended and then I kind of forgot about it as I returned to my normal daily routine.
    A couple weeks later I was at school when a girl came up to me at lunch and asked if my name was Melissa. I said yeah, and she introduced herself as Leslie Landon, Michael’s daughter. I brightened as I remembered how much I’d liked him.
    “Oh, hi,” I said.
    She smiled as if she knew a secret, which she did.
    “My dad said you’re going to be Half Pint,” she said.
    I didn’t believe it.
    “What?” I asked.
    “My dad said you’re going to be Half Pint.”
    I screamed and ran to the office where there was a phone available for students to use in an emergency. I called home and told my mom what had happened. She let out an excited shriek and made me repeat the story. As I did, I felt like booster rockets had ignited under me and I was about to blast off into some exciting, new, uncharted world. Meanwhile, as I finished the school day, my mom did some fact-checking and found out it was true, I’d gotten the role of Half Pint. Leslie had told me even before my agents knew—and boy, did she get grounded for that one.
    Shortly before Michael died, I saw him at Leslie’s wedding and he told me when it came time to show all the screen tests to the network executives, he only showed them mine. I looked at him, then said, “Really? You did?” He nodded.
    “Oh yeah. I knew. I knew immediately that you were her and I didn’t even want them to think about anybody else.”
     
     
    F rom there, we began the steps leading up to the pilot, starting with wardrobe fittings. That original fitting was the first time I grasped the importance of costume in creating a character. I was a little pisher and didn’t have a formal process. Once I slipped on the dress, though, I felt different, transformed into someone else, as well as transported backward in time.
    When I finally received the script, I went over my lines with my mother. I underlined them with a crayon. I memorized dialogue easily; I had a good memory, maybe a photographic memory. It came in handy, and I was prepared when the time came to shoot the pilot.
    The story was straight out of the classic series of books, narrated and seen through the eyes of nine-year-old Laura. The Ingalls family—Charles, Caroline, and their three daughters—moves from their little house in the Wisconsin woods to a new home on the prairie about fifty miles west of Independence, Kansas. Leaving their family behind is hard, but the family’s resilient spirit, as led by Charles’s instant affection for the new land, despite its dangers, mirrored that of the rest of the country.
    This slice of Americana, replete with chest-tightening dangers and a Christmas celebration guaranteed to open the tear ducts, was actually a two-hour movie, and if the network liked it, they would pick it up as a series, an arrangement known as a back-door