The papa's stage show moved on to Chigago and he never knew about me, or the showbiz fever he planted in my DNA.

When I showed up it was "socially unacceptable" for single mothers to have "illegitimate" children, and it really isn't cheaper raising kids by the dozen regardless of what they say. That's why I was adopted at birth by the only mother I really knew, the one I refer to here as "Mom." She was unaware of the illigitimate background until years later.

Mom's brother, France, died in the 1917 influenza epidemic. She was heartbroken, and kept his violin carefully wrapped among her personal treasures.

When I was four years old, Mom brought it with me, to see whether Miss Edwina Rogers would teach me to play it.

For the next twelve years Miss Rogers, starting with a half-size violin, taught me, rehearsed with me, encouraged me, and tutored me through recitals and performances until I sat in the Lake Charles, La., Civic Symphony Orchestra. How I love Miss Rogers.

At recitals and shows put on at school and the church, I was probably no great performer -- but I always loved the applause. It was a balm that healed all feelings of self-doubt or inadequacy. If I could stirr up a little laughter in the audience it was the greatest pleasure I felt until I discovered sex! That's a story for another time.

When I was sixteen years old The United States had been at war with Italy, Japan and Germany for over three years.

On my 17th birthday, April 17, 1944, I enlisted in the Navy. With my head full of High School Band, Sunday School, The Hit Parade, and Movie Propaganda, I was hardly prepared for the madness of Iwo Jima before my 18th birthday!

In September, 1945, after a bout with amnesia, detailed in my e-report How to Separate and Integrate Multiple Personalities (http://www.clineclark.com/multipers/), I was medically discharged. I have never dredged up all of the memories lost during that dissociation trip, but I clearly remember the return to reality following the experience.

I was in a psycho ward at the Balboa Park Navy Medical Facility at San Diego, California. There was music playing over the sound system. This was my first "normal" memory recall! I dashed to the bars separating the crazies from their keepers and asked in a loud voice, "Is that song 'Rhapsody in Blue'?"

The Corpsman at the desk responded with something like, "Duh, I dunno, Hey, Eddie! This guy wants to know if that song is Rhapsody in Blue!" (The song on the sound system had changed.)

"No," was the reply.

What followed was a scene befitting an Abbot & Costello Comedy!

For the next few minutes I became a troublesome patient with bed restrains until, thankfully, Someone finally said that they had heard Rhapsody in Blue earlier, and I was transferred to the not-so-crazy area for counseling.

During the many dead-time-delays that followed, somewhere I was permitted access to a piano. I had never studied piano, but I plinked away at it until I was able to play the famous melody line of the rhapsody. Then playing around with it more I was able to construct the chords.

I was able to play Rhapsody in Blue! With my musical knowledge I was able to write down the notes. After my discharge I obtained the actual sheet music, and, to my amazement I had replicated the exact notation in the printed Gershwin Composition!

I was sent home with a 50% temporary (for me, meaning two years) disability, the usual "Ruptured Duck" Pin, my discharge papers, mustering out pay, and personal belongings I had when I entered the hospital: A billfold, and an Autoharp I have no recollection to this day of buying. Even in the depths of my dissociated subconscious self, there's music!

For years, in the back of my brain somewhere, has lurked the notion that I should have an active role in showbiz.

My stent as fiddler with the "Bill Nettles' Cowboys," famous for the hit song, Hadacol Boogie, didn't last long in the late-1940's -- neither did the band, by the way.

My pursuit of hypnotism as a career, and later my call to the ministry, never quinched the dream.

While attending Grunewald's School of Music in New Orleans I built a little network of French Quarter entertainers who got me MC, singing, and stand-up gigs.

Then I did my "Doktor Zvenghali, Master Mesmerist" act for a while.

Of course, there's the great Legacy of Evil fiasco!

Near the end of last century I met Gigi Wells at the Southern California Motion Picture Council. We negotiated a deal for me to produce a movie based on her book with that title. I had recently completed a short course in production at Hollywood Film Institute, and used knowledge gained there to put together an ensemble to do a 35mm film. Everything was set, an "angel," script, film stock, lights, cast, location, and the first shoot was scheduled for February 2000.

I was walking across the Rawleigh Studio back parking lot when my legs turned to wet noodles before I got to my car. I struggled to it and managed to drive to the hospital where I learned I was experiencing an attack of congestive heart failure. During my two-week hospitalization the angel flew away with the moneybags, and everything fell apart.

In early 2007 I saw a fiddle listed on eBay with a high bid of $9.95. Just for kicks I bid $10.00 and WON! When it arrived I removed it from its packing, still in its case and found myself spontaneously clasping it to my chest and weeping.

Of course I'll never return to my skill lost during the past half-century, but deep down inside I grieve over yet another casualty of World War Two.

The closest I have ever come to "real" showbiz has been through my hypnotherapy and counseling practice. During the 1980s I worked with a number of "Hollywood Hopefuls" and also a few recipients of Oscars, Emmies, Grammies, and Tonys!

So, who's complaining!

It's all because my Uncle France died before I was born, and Mom kept his violin!

In the musical, when The Music Man was asked, "What Band?" He replied, "There's always a band, kid."

As I continue over the hill and across the river from Hollywood in Glendale, California, you may ask me "What career?"

And you'll hear me say:
"THERE'S ALWAYS SHOWBIZ, KID!"

I set up HollystarPictures.com in case something new will come along and revive the sound of applause.