10 Jun

Susan Day

written by Bob Hunt in Blog | 1 comment

One of us just had a flaming shot (Hint: it wasn’t me).

One of the most surreal scenes I have witnessed took place in a biker bar on a cold December morning in 1993. The mere fact that I was there at all was odd enough, given that I’ve never frequented bars nor have I ever been enthralled by the staccato belch of a roaring Harley. A goofy, suburban milquetoast, I was a fish out of water amongst a grizzled, tattooed set that would have been a casting director’s dream if extras were needed for a dramatic recreation of the Rolling Stones at Altamont. They were all drinking and smoking and looked as though they had been doing so for hours. I was an open target for ridicule, but the leather and bandanna-clad crowd left me alone. It was obvious that I had invaded their territory for one geeky reason: Susan Olsen.

When I first heard that a local morning radio show was bringing Susan to town for what they billed as a Brady Biker Breakfast, I instantly concluded that I would be stopping by before heading for work that day. Considering that I owned a Brady Bunch script that had already been signed by a few of her castmates, my presence at her appearance seemed like a mandate. But this was no typical meet and greet. The bikers were clearly amused but certainly not Brady enthusiasts, the radio personalities were their typically glib and irreverent selves, and I stood nervously as the lone Brady fan in this rollicking bar, a dweeb with a plastic-sleeved script tucked under his arm. Just as I approached Susan during a break in the broadcast, a one-armed tough lurched toward us holding a pair of shot glasses filled with an apparently toxic blue liquid. To the great enjoyment of the bar patrons, he lit the glasses aflame, blew them out, and shared a hard drink with the woman known far and wide as Cindy Brady.

Susan is not Cindy, of course, a distinction that has been made numerous times in the plethora of books and TV appearances that have chronicled all things Brady. She has sharpened the distinction in recent years with her frank and outspoken blog, which is peppered with enough vulgarities, confrontational political opinions and rants against organized religion that I feel obligated to warn sensitive souls to stay away. It’s not a fan site, anyway, and if it weren’t for the familiar face in her profile, you would never who’s writing it. But the un-Cindy side of Susan is just one facet of a gifted individual who reveals herself to be a talented graphic artist as well as an entertaining writer. Poke around among the shocking bits and you’ll find thoughtful pieces mourning the loss of her parents, delighting in the antics of her son, and cherishing time with friends. Follow the link to a secondary blog, Kitten Carpathia, and you’ll encounter her compassion for animals and her experiences as a foster parent for shelter kittens. In fact, once you get past the un-Cindy-like stuff, you discover…gee, I almost hate to say it for fear of being offensive…how can I put this diplomatically…rather Brady-like virtues.

That’s exactly what I found fifteen years ago in a smoky biker bar. While I was still mentally processing Susan’s special moment with the mysterious One Armed Biker, she greeted me warmly and graciously took the time to sign my script and pose for a photo. She told me that she had been in Columbus many years before to visit family, and when I suggested that our humble capitol city was a lot more crowded than she probably remembered, she assured me that our traffic was nothing compared to the congested highways of Los Angeles. Tough guys and smarmy radio hosts surrounded us, but she regarded this Brady nerd with the utmost respect and kindness. Again, I do not wish to offend, but…giving the time of day to the goofiest guy in the room? Ya gotta admit, Mike would be proud.

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