by (AJ) Eric

There are manufactured superstars, and then there are Disney manufactured superstars. Which may explain why my daughters, ages 11 and 8, were here with me on this pleasant summer Sunday evening at the outdoor Santa Barbara Bowl for a 5pm concert, watching “Bonnie Bright” perform. More accurately, we were seeing and listening to Corey Glynn, the 14-year old who portrayed her in three Junior High Cheerleader movies, on phonograph records and in concerts like this one.

The girls, who’d wanted so badly to come, were yelling and cheering. Marcie was wearing Bonnie’s signature red hairband in her blonde hair, Adrienne, the younger of the two, had gone all out in a Disney-authorized store-bought copy of Bonnie’s cheerleader uniform. She’d hoped that we’d go the extra step and spray her dark hair blonde like Bonnie’s, but we hadn’t been willing to go quite that far.

And there was no question that the performers were in the good form and seemingly good spirits you’d expect from seasoned young talent. Onstage with “Bonnie” were her backup singers and dancers, who were costumed as the rest of the Lincoln Junior High cheer squad in white long-sleeved sweaters, shorts and short skirts. The dozen or so band members in the orchestra pit were equally capable.

I’d been a little concerned, since this was the last concert of Bonnie’s national tour and a delayed one at that. She’d taken an unscheduled ten-day break, reportedly because of vocal fatigue, less than a month ago. The report also mentioned that Corey had insisted on giving Bonnie’s fans the fully live performance they paid for: no pre-recorded vocals being lip-synched, not even during the more strenuous dance numbers — unlike some other singer/dancer types touring here in 1981.

Adults in the audience could tell, at least on the songs we’d heard (and heard, and heard) before, that things were on the up-and-up: the vocals sounded a bit more breathless and, well, un-canned, than a studio version would have been, and even a bit lower-pitched.

Now we’d reached what figured to be the very last number, the single released during the tour: an onward-and-upward song called “Life Is Whatever You Want It to Be.”

…A wish on a star, a trip to the moon
It’s all up to you and you’re calling the tune
Oh you know that life is whatever you want it to be…

All of the Bonnie singles had been in that upbeat mode, though it wasn’t a limitation of the performer, as she’d made clear by including some ballads and even a couple of folk tunes in a more subdued middle section of the concert, mostly perched on a barstool-type seat in the center of the front stage area, accompanied only by her own acoustic guitar.

She’d looked attractive in a deep blue, knee-length dress for that part of the show, more mature than she did in the tween-age cheerleading outfits — a short-sleeved red one at the start; the white pullover afterward. It wasn’t until she got up to leave the stage and change clothes for the last part of the show that you realized that she really didn’t have the figure to make a gown like that look credible on her; even having just turned 14, she showed little sign of adolescence.

Anyway, here in the finale, they were pulling out all the proverbial stops, to the point of taking advantage of the outdoor venue to shoot off fireworks. Bonnie even turned some cartwheels while proceeding from one side of the stage to the other during the brass fanfare that made up the instrumental bridge to the song. She’d been running and jumping throughout the cheerleading numbers, but until then had left all the acrobatics and gymnastics to her dance crew.

And then it was over. The cheering, as you’d expect from an audience consisting largely of preteen girls, was loud, enthusiastic, vocal, high-pitched and persistent.

Bonnie, or Corey, re-identified the other performers as they got their individual applause, took their bows and left the stage: first the three boy dancers, then five girls, followed by her three backup girl singers, who’d been part of the cheer crew during the bigger numbers but had remained on stage to sing while the dancers were backstage. They’d also sung a few hits from old Disney films during Bonnie’s two offstage costume changes.

Finally, after the curtain calls were done, she took the stage for an encore. Oddly, she’d taken off the white cheerleader skirt, fully exposing the red shorts underneath.

Since she’d done all her hits during the show, I think none of us in the audience, except perhaps those who had seen the show earlier in the tour, knew quite what to expect. It turned out to be “When You Wish Upon a Star”:

“…Like a bolt our of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star your dreams come true”

The old song got appreciative applause that seemed to come more from the parents than the kids.

But what came next was in equal parts unexpected and perplexing.

Corey — and though the voice wasn’t any different, it was clearly Corey and not Bonnie — spoke.

“I’m afraid that some wishes and dreams don’t come true. This will be my last concert ever as Bonnie Bright.”

Murmurs and words of protest came from the audience.

“Please hear me out,” Corey continued. “The folks at Disney, who gave me this chance two years ago and have stood by me the whole time, mostly don’t know this story. And since Bonnie belongs to them and not me, it’s very possible she’ll continue with someone else playing the role. In fact, I’d recommend that they give the part to Vanessa Colton, one of my backing vocalists.”

Corey smiled a bit. “We had a number planned where she’d come out with a wig and makeup that matched mine, and we’d do a duet. We really did look alike and her voice is a lot like mine was on the albums. But we were writing the song ourselves and never got all the lyrics to work.

“Anyway, here’s why I can’t do it any longer. I’ve been getting older, as all kids do. But along with that, I’ve been sort of getting thicker. My face is thicker than it used to be., My upper arms and body are thicker too.

“And so is my voice. I was straining to hit some of the higher notes in my songs, and during the time we were off we had to transpose a lot of them down a little so that I could keep singing them.

“The problem unfortunately is one for which there’s no easy fix. You see, although I may wish it weren’t so, I’m really a boy.”

And with that, Corey unpinned the straight blonde wig and stood there with brown hair in a typical boy cut.

We hadn’t had reason until now to notice that when Bonnie had gotten back into cheerleader mode for the last section of the show, she’d been wearing much less lip color and eye shadow than earlier. And since she’d been flat-chested even in her cheer sweater — a pullover that matched the ones worn by the rest of the performers, including the boys — Corey now probably looked a little more like a boy than a girl, even in the red short-shorts.

Corey continued. “Not much of a boy, I guess, or I wouldn’t have passed the musical audition and the screen test that originally got me this part. Actually, the Disney people wouldn’t have tested me at all. My parents sent them a tape they had made for me as a boy singer and we never heard from them, but there was one that my cousin made where I was part of her girl band that got me a callback. I think I’ve always fit in better with girls than boys.”

None of us in the crowd seemed to know quite how to react. There were boos and shouts of “Fraud!”; somebody tried to start a chant of “Shame, Shame, Shame!” but there weren’t many participants. I realized afterward that there were surprisingly few shouts of “Faggot” or “Pervert”; after all, any adults that were so inclined would have had to explain to their children what the words meant.

Some kids, especially the youngest, were frightened and crying. Adrienne, my eight-year old, was one of them. It made me think of the famous story about small children traumatized by seeing the detached heads of Mickey Mouse and other cartoon characters in a backstage costume-changing area at Disneyland.

Actually, Adrienne told me the next day after a night of troubled sleep that it was the transformation that scared her — after all, she’d been wearing the same uniform as Bonnie. Did that mean she was in danger of turning into a boy too?

I think most of us including the older kids had already known or figured out that Corey in real life didn’t look exactly like Bonnie. Some would even have seen pictures of a female Corey as a curly-haired brunette, though not very many photos like that had appeared in print or on television. It seemed that the people at Disney made her stay costumed as Bonnie even while coming and going from her concerts and appearances, and had done effective work in having her attend Hollywood and record-related events as Bonnie rather than Corey. I guess that at her age there weren’t any dates or wild parties to attract photographers and produce unauthorized candid shots.

Corey picked up the guitar again, apparently planning to do a second encore. But there’d been a massive move toward the exits by audience members after his announcement. Between the parents that didn’t want any more exposure to this weird creature onstage, the ones figuring that it’d be easier to calm their kids down somewhere other than here, and the kids who were urging their parents to get them away from this hateful person who had abused their trust, the tumult was considerable.

We stayed, even though it meant that people were climbing over us to get to the aisles. Maybe I was just too stunned to take it all in. With Adrienne in tears and Marcie having angrily pulled off her Bonnie Bright headband, I doubt that either of them cared what Corey was going to do next, and it wasn’t as though there were any hits left from Bonnie’s albums that needed singing.

Or maybe it was just my stubborn streak coming through. I suppose I’ve always thought that I can’t get my money’s worth unless I stay for an entire show. I’ve suffered through some awfully bad movies rather than leave early.

A local newspaper columnist said later that week that she’d stuck around because she was expecting Corey to say that it was all a hoax or a practical joke. I had trouble believing anyone could have felt that way, given the tone and the degree of sincerity in Corey’s voice. Then again, we’re talking about an actor here, and someone young enough to do something stupid because of a dare or something. Maybe the columnist had a point. But that didn’t happen; this was for real.

In any case, Corey stood at center stage, patiently strumming two or three guitar chords while waiting for things to quiet down. Finally, with perhaps eighty people left in the house, he started to sing:

The sun is fading away
It’s the end of the day
As the June light turns to moonlight
I’ll be on my way.

I’ll be on my way.

With no instrumental bridge or repeat of the verse, the song wasn’t much more than a minute long. And then Corey Glynn walked off the stage to utter silence. I don’t believe any of us ever saw him again.

Many thanks to my beta readers, Leslie Moore and Dawn Natelle.

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Notes on the music:

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I’ve been informed that at one crucial point Disney’s Hannah Montana removes her blonde wig at the end of a concert and reveals herself to be dark-haired Miley Stewart. My lead character here was obviously inspired by the existence of Disney’s Lizzie McGuire and Hannah Montana (though I never saw either show), but I was unaware of that scene when I originally included that action in an unfinished longer story in 2011 that led to this one.