Jerry Green - 25 Years Inside Universal Studios: From Tour Guide to Entertainment Director

2017 Jerry Green

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Editor: Bob McLain
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I boarded a plane at Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix; destination, Hollywood, California.

To most people that doesnt sound like a big deal, but California, show biz, actors, and Hollywood seemed completely out of the reach to a poor kid born in a small town in North Florida. And when I say poor, Im not speaking of a state of mind, but of finances. My family was poor.

I was the youngest of four kidstwo sisters and a brotherand although we grew up poor, we learned to make do and live on what we had. I remember more than once coming home and finding bags of groceries on our front porch, left there by local churches.

We lived in an old rundown house, which fortunately had a couple of acres of land in the back. So, my dad decided to raise hogs. He started with a few, but the number increased to forty or more, all sizes. Forty pigs might not sound like a lot, but to us it was. I remember one of the hogs was really mean and enjoyed chasing my brother out of the pen when he had the chance. He was tasty.

But the pigs came with a lot of work, primarily for my dad and brother since I was only five. Some mornings I would wake up at 3:30 a.m. to go with my dad and brother to restaurants and collect slop (leftover food from the night before). The restaurants dumped the scraps into large drums that we collected every couple of nights and took home to feed the hogs. One of my favorite stops, which was only once or twice a week, was the bakery. After getting home we picked out the items that looked edible and kept those for ourselves. The hogs got the rest.

I once went with my dad to the slaughter house to sell some of our pigsthat was quite the experience for a five-year-old. We also had chickens, a cow, and of course what every five-year-old boy should have, a pet goat. Yes, rather than a dog, I had a goat named Billy, which I cleverly shortened to Bill. We wrestled and played just like any boy-dog relationship. Bill was rarely tied to a stake, and seldom penned up. He had the run of the property. He did everything a dog does and more, including keeping the grass manicured to an acceptable level, and eating everything left unattended.

My dad altered a red wagon by removing the handle and replacing it with shafts, turning my Radio Flyer toy wagon into a buggy. Then he fashioned a harness to fit Bill. It was like a horse and buggy from the Old West. Bill and I won first place in Panama Citys Fourth of July parade. The grand prize was a blue ribbon, and Bills and my picture in the local newspaper.

The family cow, and my goat, presented a special challenge for my mom. She had to go to the back of the pasture to milk the cow. As she returned to the house, Bill would follow, butting her in the backside causing the milk to slosh out of the pail. Getting back with half a pail of milk was considered a victory. She and Bill enjoyed a love-hate relationship. He loved to chase and butt her, and she hated running the gauntlet after milking the cow.

When I was about four, my dad, my brother Wayne, and I were run over by a dump truck. My dad was badly crippled, my brother was also severely injured, and me I was hit and knocked across a ditch into a rose bush filled with thorns. However, to hear my mom recount the story, I wasnt technically in the accident. Her memory was different from mine.

After months of recovery, my dad was able to work again, but never really the same physically. My brother eventually recovered and, at the age of seventeen, joined the Marine Corp. He became an officer, served in Vietnam, and then started his own company. Very smart guy.

My oldest sister, Jean, married at the age of sixteen, had six kids, but passed away from cancer in her early sixties. My sister, Linda, just four years older than me, became a distinguished teacher and worked at a school for troubled teens in Panama City. Also very smart.

My siblings were smart; my dad was smart (he actually came up with a design for a gas-less auto engine). So what happened to me? Somewhere between Linda and me the smart gene took an early lunch. I earned straight As from first through sixth grade. But in grades seven through twelve, and then in college, achieving average was a success.

My mom worked as a waitress at almost every food facility in Panama City. As a result, I was left on my own from the age of five. In many ways it was challenging. Fun but challenging. My daughter tells me I had a Tom Sawyer childhood. But the reality was, I didnt know any different. That was the life I knew.

I have vivid memories of the woods just across the road from our house. The low-lying areas flooded during the rainy season and my best friend, Jerry Hood, and I would build rafts and go floating through the woods. It was common to see water moccasins swimming past us. Still to this day Jerry and I call each other by our last names; hes Hood to me, and Im Green to him. Maybe its because were both named Jerry, so its easier for others to keep us identified.

One of Hoods and my favorite foods was to deep-fry saltine crackers over an open fire. All thats needed is a match, fire wood, frying pan, lard, and saltine crackers very healthy.

During a particularly dry summer, a fire burned much of the interior of the forest. As my mom left for work one morning she told me not to go into the woods. But what does a five year old do when older kids invite him to go with the big boys? He goes.

We walked through the woods, careful to avoid the smoldering piles of ash, and then I followed as they hopped onto a log to cross over an area scorched by the fire. At the end of the log they jumped across a pile of leaves, but I jumped onto the leaves. Underneath was smoldering, hot ash. I hit it and sank. The skin began burning from my bare feet and I found it impossible to move. I stood screaming, my hands grasping the log and my feet burning in the ash.

The older boys dragged me from the coals and one began carrying me out while the other ran home to get my sister. It was a long recovery. Since both feet were burned, I was confined to the couch for weeks, unless someone volunteered to carry me. Lesson learned: obey Mom.

Fortunately, burns heal over time. Unfortunately, lessons learned can fade. But my childhood always seemed to be filled with adventure.

One of the chilling could-have-beens involved two neighborhood brothers I began hanging out with for a brief time. They encouraged me down a path that could have been disastrous. One evening they decided that we should steal six packs of soft drinks from a local convenience store. Another time they wanted to steal bags of empty soft drink bottles from a local church. In an ironic twist, someone stole the bottles from the location where we hid them.