Shirley jones autobiography excerpts

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I recently finished reading Shirley Jones’s autobiography, Shirley Jones: A Memoir, which was published last year by Gallery Books. Wendy Leigh has co-author credit, and it does read like Shirley Jones is having a conversation. The tone is quite informal — and boy, does Shirley Jones pack a punch with her stories! There are definitely some shocker moments in this book, as her on-screen image was quite goody two-shoes. But Ms. Jones is quite clear that she was a spitfire from the beginning! (And it’s even caused some controversy, as one particular scene apparently angered Joan Collins.)

One of my favorite stories was one she revealed about the making of The Music Man, in which she played “Marian the Librarian” in the classic 1962 film. Shirley refers to the character of Marian as a “truly liberated woman,” although I would argue that liberation is the arc of Marian’s character; it’s where she ends up, but not where the starts out. “Marian the Librarian” is the cla


Review: If you think you know
Shirley Jones, you don’t know Jack

         Posted: July 2013

Shirley Jones’ memoir is testament that there are things you say at 79 that you’d never say at 39.

Shirley Jones, A Memoir, feels like a thin grasp at Hollywood gossip and celebration of good health. The latter is all-important, and even the most cynical reader can’t help but be happy that Jones on the verge of 80 is still rolling.

A Memoir boasts little more than a timeline for a hook, but there is a twist. Jones has long been cemented in pop culture as Shirley Partridge and, for older generations, a Hollywood musical star, but now there's a new narrative: sex great.

Clearly sensitive about her girl-next-door persona and permanent association as Shirley Partridge, Jones makes clear in the introduction that she is “far removed” from the innocent characters she often played, promising much more than what the book delivers. To justify what is often a dubious, frustrating account of her decadent firs

Shirley Jones

Shirley Jones ONE

A Beautiful Morning
Although I was named Shirley after the saccharine child star Shirley Temple, I’ve always been far more full of spice than of sugar.

As a baby, instead of cooing away softly and then serenely sleeping all day in my crib, I screamed and screamed at the top of my voice until I got attention. My favorite pastime was chewing on my crib because I seemed to like the taste of varnish so much. I chewed so hard, and with such great determination, that chew marks were left all over the wooden rails of my crib.

I was sturdy, adventurous, and unafraid. When I was four years old, and playing in the family-owned Jones brewery, my grandfather promised me jelly beans if I drank some beer. I jumped at the opportunity, tried the beer, and hated it.

But I loved the brewery, and everything about it, primarily because it was my haven, my second home. My father, Paul Jones, and his brothers ran the Smithton, Pennsylvania, brewery, and from the time when I was three years old and we moved from Charleroi, Pennsylvania, where I was born, I spent m

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