The worn vinyl of the bus seat creaked beneath me as I clutched the envelope, its crisp edges softened by the warmth of my hand. Inside, the money my mom and grandma had painstakingly saved—my prom dress fund. The pink, shimmering gown that would transform me, even for one night, into the princess I’d always dreamed of being.
The bus rattled along, the familiar rhythm a comforting backdrop to my anticipation. At the next stop, the doors hissed open, and two figures boarded, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. They weren’t passengers; they were enforcers, their uniforms a stark contrast to the everyday clothes of the other riders.
Their attention fell upon an elderly man, his clothes tattered and his face etched with worry. He sat hunched in a corner seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The enforcers approached him, their voices sharp and demanding.
“Ticket, sir,” one of them barked.
The man’s hands trembled as he fumbled in his pockets, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. “Please, I… I don’t have one. I’m trying to get to my daughter. She’s sick, and I have to take her to the hospital. Please, I’m begging you.”
The enforcers were unmoved. “Fine,” one of them stated, his voice flat. “You’ll have to pay a fine.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. The despair in his eyes was a physical weight, a crushing burden that filled the bus. I couldn’t bear it. The thought of my own mother, sick and helpless, flashed through my mind. What if she needed help, and no one cared?
Without a second thought, I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs with a sudden rush of determination. “I’ll pay his fine!” I declared, extending the envelope towards the enforcers.
The bus fell silent. The enforcers exchanged surprised glances, then looked at me, then at the man. I didn’t waver. I knew, deep down, that this was the right thing to do. Some things were more important than a dress, even a dream dress.
The enforcers, after a moment of hesitation, accepted the money. The elderly man’s eyes filled with tears, and he rushed towards me, his voice choked with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, child. You’ve saved my daughter’s life.”
He thanked me over and over, his voice a trembling whisper, before hurrying off the bus, his urgency palpable. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and a tiny pang of sadness swirling within me.
The next day, prom was a whirlwind of glitter and laughter. I wore a simple dress borrowed from a friend, feeling a little out of place but strangely content. I’d told my mom and grandma what happened, and they’d hugged me, their eyes filled with pride.
As the music swelled, and couples swayed on the dance floor, a commotion erupted near the entrance. I turned to see what was happening, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing there, amidst the sea of shimmering gowns and tailored suits, was the elderly man from the bus, his face beaming. Beside him stood a young woman, her face pale but her eyes bright. And in his hands, he held a large, velvet-wrapped box.
He walked towards me, his steps slow but steady. “My dear child,” he said, his voice ringing with warmth. “I wanted to thank you properly. You saved my daughter, and I can never repay you. But I hope this small token will express my gratitude.”
He presented the box to me. I opened it, my fingers trembling. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a dress. Not just any dress, but a masterpiece. It was pink, shimmering, and exquisitely crafted. It was the dress of my dreams, even more beautiful than I had imagined.
“My daughter,” the man explained, his eyes filled with tears, “she’s a seamstress. She made this for you, with all her heart.”
I was speechless, tears welling up in my eyes. The dress was perfect, a symbol of the kindness I had shown and the kindness I had received in return. That night, I didn’t just feel like a princess. I felt like a hero, and I knew that some things, some moments, were worth more than all the dresses in the world.
From Small Town Dreams to Hollywood Stardom: How does the Legendary Actor Look Now?
The story of Earl Holliman’s journey to Hollywood is one of aspiration and perseverance. In 1943, Holliman was 14 years old and adamant about wanting to be a movie star.
Raised in Oil City and Mooringsport, rather than Shreveport as is frequently stated, he traveled via a number of locations before arriving in Hollywood.
He first went to see relatives in Camden, Arkansas, and from there he bused himself to Texarkana. He took a rideshare to Hollywood from there.
Holliman had worked the night shift at a diner close to Barksdale Air Force Base and as a theater usher, so he had saved some money. A serviceman he met at the cafe even gave him a lead on a place to stay, which turned out to be in El Monte, California, a good distance from Hollywood. Looking back on his trip, Holliman acknowledges that it was a dangerous decision that wouldn’t be prudent in the modern day.
DAILY LIFE IN HOLLYWOOD
After his initial try in Hollywood failed, Holliman made a quick trip back home before deciding to serve in the Navy. But his desire to be a movie star never went away. Later on, he went back to Los Angeles to continue his education at the University of California, Los Angeles and the Pasadena Playhouse.
Holliman’s perseverance was rewarded. With parts in “Giant” (1956), “Forbidden Planet,” “The Rainmaker,” and “The Sons of Katie Elder,” he amassed an amazing reel of cinematic credits. Additionally, he gained recognition for his television appearances, most notably in “Police Woman” with Angie Dickinson and in “The Thorn Birds” with Richard Chamberlain and Rachel Ward.
Holliman remembers his Hollywood days fondly, especially his first morning there. Wearing dark glasses and a silk shirt with short sleeves, he strutted in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, wondering if anyone thought he was a celebrity. The naive hopes of youth were present in that moment.
Check out the image below to see Earl Holliman’s current age of 95:
Leave a Reply