As we get ready to share the story of Mary Small with the world via iTunes and Amazon, I wanted to share a fictionalized story about my late discovery adoption that led to this production. Here is the story in its entirety. Enjoy!
The naiveté of the roaring twenties was fresh in the minds of most Americans in the first years of the Great Depression. That’s why the sudden slip into economic calamity following the stock market crash became such a transformational event in the evolution of our national character. It is juxtapositions like these on a grand scale that can force entire societies into circumspection, to question what is important in life and that journey has the power to define entire generations. This is the true story of how the character of one little girl was shaped by these uncertain times, how she matured into one of America’s biggest stars and ow time somehow forgot her… until a few years ago when I discovered that I was adopted and that she was my grandmother!
The secret of my adoption blew wide open one morning while my wife and I were at a prenatal center for an ultrasound and genetic testing. My parents had come along and as I sat between them, filling out family history paperwork I could sense something was bothering them. They realized that for the health of my unborn child they had to be honest about my birth and confessed that I was adopted. It came as a complete surprise. At 32, as I was just beginning to start a new family, I suddenly had to come to grips the revelation that I had never known my biological ancestors.
My research led me to Manhattan where I continued to hunt for the truth. Unfortunately, every road was a dead end. My biological mother had died and my father was a retired undercover officer in what amounted to witness protection. I was close to giving up. The one clue I had left was an address in midtown copied from an old phonebook in the public library. With my flight back to Los Angeles departing in a few hours, I had just enough time to check it out. After a few knocks, a nonagenarian once known as “the little girl with the big voice” answered her door and asked my name. I hesitated for some reason and said I was reporter. She kindly invited me in for a ginger ale and told me this story. Continue reading The Little Girl With The Big Voice