Although her husband knew Moore enjoyed working with Clark, Shebib believed there was an insurmountable obstacle that would keep his wife from the role. “Don said, ‘Well, I’m afraid she won’t be able to do it,’” Moore explains. “At that point I was about seven months pregnant. From what I understand there was a lot of ‘guy talk’ about why I was always pregnant. Even so, Bob said, ‘Well, we’ll meet anyway.’
“So I went over to meet Bob, and I was really showing a lot,” she continues. “As you know, the film took place in the late 1930s/early 1940s, and in those days not only were pregnant women unable to teach, but until the war began, married women didn’t teach because it was deemed inappropriate that they stood up in front of children, for fear the kids would be thinking about their teacher fucking. I mean, can you believe the way people thought in those days? So there was no way I was going to be able to play this role as a pregnant person. So Bob said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll sort it. I’ll put you behind a desk. I want you to be in this part.’ It was extremely flattering.”
Moore accepted the part of Miss Shields, but once she got back home, she developed cold feet. Did she really want to be sixty pounds overweight and permanently seated behind a desk in her first MGM film? There was no way in hell. She knew she needed to come up with a solution, and fast. As she was thinking of a way to solve her problem, her mind wandered to a childhood memory that ended up providing inspiration.
“I started thinking about my most-loathed teacher, Miss Parker, the woman I had when I was in grade three,” she recalls. “The shape of Miss Parker was the shape of the queen mother, which was this strange oneness. Because of the undergarments in those days, women’s boobies never stayed up. They kind of drooped down to their tummies, which were kind of big because they had these babies and nobody knew about exercise, so they had this shape that was all one fatness.”
Moore knew she had found the solution. “I called Bob and I said, ‘There was a very, very typical look for women in the 1930s. I think we can achieve that with padding,’ and he flipped. He was so happy. He thought this was the greatest idea.”
With Moore’s scenes scheduled to shoot weeks after she was cast, production went into overdrive to round out her figure. Clark hired a theatrical costumer to design and construct the padding. By the time Moore’s scenes were shot, she was eight months pregnant, but it’s virtually unnoticeable in the film. “If you really examine it, there’s one moment when I’m talking to Flick and you can see how taut the fatness is in the front of my stomach, which is not what fat people are,” she admits. “They’re soft, they aren’t hard. You can just see it for one moment if you’re really looking for it.”
One of the makeshift dressing rooms in the school © Anne Dean
While most involved with A Christmas Story tried to keep Moore’s pregnancy under wraps in the film, at least one person is proud to explain the actress’s fuller figure in the film: Noah Shebib, whom music lovers may know by his stage name, “40,” but whom Moore simply knows as “my son.” Due to her pregnancy, the holiday film could be considered 40’s first professional credit. “She’s got a big belly [in the movie] because it’s me,” 40 says. “I’m in that film.”
The fact that the illusion went off without a hitch isn’t to say that Moore’s stuffing didn’t have bizarre side effects. “The funny part was, when I would go home at night after shooting all day, I would dream that I actually wasn’t pregnant,” she says. “That it was all in my mind. It was very funny.”
On January 28, the circus from Hollywood arrived at Victoria Public School. Trucks arrived with furniture, lights, and wardrobe. Outside, monkey bars were erected and the Canadian flag was taken off the pole in exchange for the stars and stripes. Neighbors were asked to move their cars from the block and classic cars from the late 1930s were put in their place. The school basement was converted into a makeup room, while an upstairs classroom became the fitting room for costumes.
Shooting began as scheduled on Monday, January 31. The students who were serving as extras were given a 7 a.m. call for hair, makeup, and costuming. Hours before that, trailers and equipment swarmed the school parking lot. A science classroom was emptied out and vintage wooden desks were brought in to take the school back in time by four decades.
Victoria School teacher Anne Dean poses next to the chalkboard she wrote on for filming © Anne Dean
The first scene filmed was of the schoolchildren saying, “Good morning, Miss Shields!” with their mouths full of false teeth. The kids got a crash course in filmmaking 101 — often it’s a lot of hurry up and wait.
“It took forever and [the teeth] were uncomfortable and tasted horrible,” Mary Jo Schmidt, who was in third grade at the time of filming, recalls. “I still dread seeing any of those false teeth things.”
Although twenty students had been delegated as Ralphie’s classmates, four students had to be transferred to the more general exterior shots because the filmmakers found themselves short on vintage desks. There were a few tears among the children when they realized they had to return to their regularly scheduled classes, but the shoot pressed on.
The interior shots of Victoria Public School went off excellently, but once it was time to film the playground sequences around the flagpole, the filmmakers found themselves unable to continue because of a lack of snow.
“The weather did not cooperate,” Victoria Public School teacher Anne Dean recalled in an April 1983 account to the Lincoln County Board of Education. “Once the indoor scenes were shot, everything was packed up and off they went to the studio in Toronto.”
This isn’t to say that the filmmakers hadn’t resorted to artificial snow before when the weather hadn’t cooperated. After shooting the Higbee’s sequences in Cleveland, Bob Clark and his team shot for an additional week in the town. During this time, the crew worked on what was arguably their most ambitious sequence of the film — an outdoor parade that opens the movie in the Cleveland town square.
“We all had a blast working there because this was just post-Christmas,” Peter Billingsley remembers. “They had kept the downtown square in all that flavor for us. We were shooting lengthy, lengthy nights, so we as kids were sleeping all day and then up all night, which I’m sure was a handful for Bob.”
According to the film’s production notes, 6,000 feet of emerald-colored garlands and 75,000 watts of twinkling Christmas lights were hung throughout the square. The modern bus shelters were covered with a façade to make them look like they were from the Depression era, and dozens of antique vehicles were loaned to Christmas Tree Films from local residents to help complete the 1940s feel.
The Parker family in the town square © MGM/UA Entertainment / Photofest
A number of real-life Clevelanders were asked to participate, including the Holy Trinity Baptist Church Ensemble, the Revere High School Band, the Ohio Boys Choir, and the North East Ohio Salvation Army Band. The inclusion of these groups helped make the parade enjoyable for all the participants, which thus created an authentic scene. In many aspects, the celebration really did take on a life of its own, which Bob Clark was lucky enough to capture on film.
“The [Holy Trinity Baptist Church Ensemble] was just hired as extras,” says Carl Zittrer, one of the film’s composers who was present during the parade. “They started singing ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain’ on the street just because it was cold. I saw them and said, ‘Oh my God, this is gold.’ They weren’t hired to sing, they were just hired to be there. They didn’t want to be paid, but we donated money to their church.
“Well, I heard them doing this, I said, ‘We can’t not record this,’” he continues. “That was really my decision, because Bob didn’t know where they were. The set was pandemonium. He was half a block away from them. He probably forgot they were there. I said, ‘Hey! Bob! Come over here!’ and then he just fell in love with their singing.
I think it lasts about ten seconds in the finished movie, but it really enriches the tapestry of that scene.”
In Cleveland, the filmmakers were treated to everything they wanted, except for snow. The winter of 1982 was the warmest winter in the state’s recorded history, which was probably fantastic for the locals, but it was definitely horrible for the imported cast and crew attempting to film a Christmas movie. There was a light snowstorm the night before the parade scene was filmed, which provided a dusting on the ground during those shots, but help was needed.
Special effects supervisor Martin Malivoire and his assistant Neil Trifunovich devoted their time in the early days of the Cleveland shoot to tracking down snow from every corner of the United States. Initially, it was thought that snow would be imported from Northern Michigan or Buffalo, New York, but it proved to be cost- and time-prohibitive. Ultimately, snow arrived with the assistance of potato flakes, which were blown about by large wind machines; large bales of shredded vinyl, which were used on set pieces to make it appear like snow had fallen and stuck; and firefighters’ foam, which was sprayed on the grass and sidewalks to give the impression that heavy snowfall had occurred the night before. For the Cleveland scenes, artificial snow could be brought in because it was needed only to cover specific sections of the landscape. It was possible to only cover one section of cement and a few trees with artificial snow, while the rest of the block remained untouched. This saved not only on cost but also on the time that would be spent laying the artificial dusting.
Bob Clark liked to tell of a passerby who was driving through the neighborhood where they were shooting outside the Parker house, whose face registered a look of complete bewilderment at the sight of a snow-covered street. “All of a sudden, he rounds a corner, one he sees every day, and one half of the street is covered with snow — houses, trees, everything. He looked like he thought he’d just entered the Twilight Zone!”
With the snow situation mastered in Cleveland, one might have thought that the lack of snow would be a non-issue at Victoria Public School, where they had to shoot the now-infamous flagpole sequence in which Ralphie’s pal Flick is “triple-dog-dared” to put his tongue to a freezing metal pole. But fabricated snow was impossible for the schoolyard shoot. To make it look realistic, snow would have to cover the entire field. This would have been difficult, expensive, and time-consuming. On top of that, the weather was too warm for artificial snow to hold up. While the interior classroom shots were being filmed, the production team closely watched the weather report. The goal was to remain at Victoria Public School through February 6, but the crew made the decision to leave three days early due to the lack of inclement weather. The students were told they wouldn’t be needed for shooting and that they’d be having their regularly scheduled classes for the remainder of the week.
“The weather certainly isn’t giving us a break,” location manager Michael MacDonald said at the time. “We’ll be going back to Toronto to shoot indoors. But we’ll be back here at the first opportunity.”
On February 3, everything was packed up. The school hallways, which had been filled with furniture and lights, were cleared out. The science classroom that had become Miss Shields’ temporary domain was restored to its prior state. All students returned to their classes, nearly a hundred of them uncertain as to whether or not they’d actually end up being included in the movie, or if Christmas Tree Films would find another location with more exciting weather.
© Anne Dean
As fate would have it, on February 6, just as the crew was originally scheduled to pack up and go home, a delayed Christmas miracle occurred — it snowed. Even though it was a Sunday, all the schoolchildren reported at 7:30 a.m. for the outdoor shoot. The crews were ready and rolling and, in the extremely cold temperatures, the young Scott Schwartz prepared for his big scene.
The fourteen-year-old pint-size actor had made his film debut in The Toy (1982), in which he received third-billing behind Hollywood heavyweights Richard Pryor and Jackie Gleason. Although the movie was panned by critics, it was a box office success, which led to the young actor receiving a leading role in Kidco, which was shot in 1982 but released two years later.
Before he had an opportunity to bask in the glow of having completed his second film, Schwartz received an invitation that would lead to the definitive work of his film career. “I had just finished up shooting Kidco and Bob Clark had just seen The Toy,” Schwartz recalls. “He wanted to meet me for one of the kids. He wasn’t even sure which character until we met and talked.”
Like the majority of the rest of the cast, Schwartz’s audition for Clark was unconventional. “My audition was just an hour conversation, then lunch,” he says. “Before I had even got home, I had the job.”
While Schwartz knew he was cast in the film, he was unaware as to exactly what his new job entailed. “When I got the movie, believe it or not, I thought I was playing Ralphie,” he admits. “I had been the lead in The Toy and I had been the lead in Kidco, so I figured I was the lead in A Christmas Story.”
The actor’s delusions of grandeur were upheld until the day of the first table read with the rest of the cast. “They sent me the script, didn’t say anything, and I was memorizing Ralphie’s lines,” he explains. “We get up to reading the script and Bob Clark goes, ‘Okay, Zack, you’re going to play Scut Farkus, and Yano, you’re going to be Grover Dill, Scott, you’re going to be Flick, and R.D., you’re going to be Schwartz.’ I turned around — my father was sitting behind me — and I go ‘Flick? Huh?!’ And Bob goes, ‘You know, Peter, you’re going to be Ralphie.’”
Although he was civil during the table read, Schwartz remained silently perturbed about his situation. “A mistake must have been made,” he thought. “Does Bob Clark realize that I just starred in two movies with big Hollywood icons?”
Scott Schwartz, Peter Billingsley, and R.D. Robb © St. Catharines Museum
The experience of working with show business royalty so early on in his career gave Schwartz the confidence to discuss the problem with Clark, despite his young age and small stature.
“Bob, are you sure about this?” Schwartz said. “You know, I’ve been the lead in . . .”
“No, no, you’re Flick. That’s your role, you’ll be fine,” Clark replied. “I know it’s not a big role, but it’s not the size of the role, it’s what you make out of it, and I think you’re going to do a great job.”
With that, Schwartz made peace with his role and Flick was born. Not only did he make the most out of his time on screen, but he also had a lot of fun behind the scenes. He and Peter Billingsley got along famously and often would terrorize the adult members of the cast and crew.
Ian Petrella, Scott Schwartz, Peter Billingsley, and R.D. Robb joke around during a hot chocolate break © Ian Petrella
Scott Schwartz, Peter Billingsley, and Ian Petrella © Ian Petrella
“We were stuck in a hotel, so we had to entertain ourselves,” Schwartz explains. However, despite his best efforts to make Billingsley guilty by association, his Christmas Story peers mutually agree that Schwartz was the catalyst for many of the shenanigans that would generally land a kid on Santa’s naughty list.
“Scott was definitely the leader of us all,” clarifies R.D. Robb, who played Schwartz, the kid who initiated the triple-dog-dare. “He was the oldest and talked a big game. He was the most experienced in every way and got us into some trouble.”
While Scott might have been the brainchild for a lot of pranks, Peter was often close behind: “I remember Peter throwing water balloons off the fourteenth-story balcony of his hotel room,” recalls Zack Ward, who played neighborhood bully Scut Farkus. The kids would often run around the hotel, banging on doors, pretending to be members of the housekeeping staff. On one occasion, Schwartz ordered several hundred dollars’ worth of pizza for Darren McGavin. The young cast members woul
d have hated to deny anyone the opportunity to be included in the fun, so McGavin wasn’t the only person to get a surprise cart of food in the middle of the night. “I think Bob also got some unwanted room service,” Schwartz says with a laugh, still amused by his childhood antics.
In addition to the fun the kids had in the hotel, they also managed to have an enjoyable time while shooting. When it came time to film Flick’s unforgettable tongue-touch with a metal flagpole, the kids couldn’t wait to test out the special effect. “Of course we all had to try it,” Peter Billingsley says. “It was so cool.”
According to Schwartz, there was a small generator motor buried in sand with a tube sticking out of it. The tube ran through a long, cylindrical piece of plastic that went over a real flagpole and was painted to look like rusted metal. The mechanism acted like a vacuum and had a tiny hole where the actor would place his tongue to make it appear as if he was frozen on the flagpole.
The crew testing the flagpole mechanism © Anne Dean
Bob Clark joking around with Scott Schwartz between takes © St. Catharines Museum
Although Billingsley remembers all the kids testing out the effect, Schwartz remembers seeing only one other person put his tongue to the jerry-rigged flagpole. “Bob did it to show me it wasn’t going to hurt,” Schwartz explains. “The pole was painted and my tongue would wipe the paint away, so they’d have to touch it up whenever I put my tongue to it.”
Shooting the short scene took twelve hours over two days. The conditions were freezing and the cast and crew had to brainstorm ways to stay comfortable in the extreme temperature.
“All afternoon we were frozen,” recalls teacher Anne Dean. “The children didn’t want to ‘play’ anymore. It was miserable.”
“It was twenty-five degrees below zero with the windchill,” Schwartz says. To adjust to the extreme temperature, the actor used over sixty hand warmers during the day and wore electric socks with large C-batteries pressed against his ankles. When not filming, the filmmakers came up with a plan to keep the kids warm during their downtime, but the results were unsuccessful.
A Christmas Story: Behind the Scenes of a Holiday Classic Page 7