Memories from the Set of "Steel Magnolias"

Over the years, I have had a variety of jobs besides teaching and writing. Among other things, I have worked on pipeline construction, planted pine trees for a timber company, labored in a plywood plant, served as a high school basketball referee, participated in archaeological surveys, and even worked a Mary Kay national convention as a stage hand.

One of my more memorable experiences was being an extra (aka background artist) in the original Steel Magnolias movie, which was filmed in and around Natchitoches in the summer of 1988.

I was teaching at the Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts at the time and out of curiosity decided to go to the open casting call. No one was more surprised than me when I was selected to play a laborer helping to set up the big wedding. The beautiful Taylor House on Jefferson Street was used for the scene.

In the movie’s first thirty minutes, I can be seen several times walking across the yard with a rake or other tool. My one closeup is reaching into a van to pick up some flowers, but the scene is so quick that it’s hard to recognize me.

I worked twelve hours a day from 6 am to 6 pm for five days, and was paid fifty dollars per day. One afternoon, I was given an extra fifty dollars to drive my bright red Chevy S-10 truck up and down Jefferson Street for an outdoor shot, but that scene failed to make the final cut.

One good thing about the job was that we ate very well—and for free. There was a food truck parked on site, and we could get all of the coffee, drinks and pastries that we wanted. At noon, everyone walked a couple of blocks to the Prudhomme-Rouquier House, where gourmet food was served up buffet style. Needless to say, we never went hungry.

The first day was one of the most interesting because everything was new and exciting. Early that morning, the young woman in charge of the extras gathered us together and went over the rules. The most important ones were not to speak or interact with the actors, to stay out of the way, and be absolutely quiet during rehearsal or filming and not to look at the camera if we were in a shot.         

Julia Roberts, Sally Field, Tom Skerritt, and Shirley MacLaine were the main actors at the Taylor House, although I did occasionally see Daryl Hannah and Dylon McDermott. It was interesting how quickly we got used to seeing the big stars up close and soon were not paying them much attention.

Of all the actors, Tom Skerritt was, by far, the friendliest. During the lunch break, he would walk with the crew to the Prudhomme-Rouquier House, engage in conversation with extras and stop and sign autographs for fans.

My big moment came when I was chosen to deliver groceries to the kitchen for a scene with Sally Field. I was to walk right past her, and I have to admit that the historian in me got a little excited when I realized that my ugly mug was going be captured forever on the silver screen.

For some reason, director Herb Ross decided not to rehearse the scene before shooting. The assistant director simply came to me and said, “When you hear ‘Action!’ just walk into the kitchen with the box of groceries—DO NOT look at the camera! Then turn right and walk out of the room past Sally, who’s going to be talking on the phone.” Seemed simple enough.

I hear “Action,” walk into the kitchen and make my turn, only to find that Sally had positioned herself so that the phone cord stretched across the doorway I was supposed to exit. With nowhere to go, I jerked to a stop and heard Ross say, “Cut!”

The embarrassed assistant director took me aside, assured me it was okay and said we’d do it again. This time, he instructed me to come into the kitchen and just walk straight towards the camera and go off scene behind it. “Don’t look at the camera!” he needlessly added.

When Ross said, “Action!” I walked into the kitchen and literally bumped into Sally Field, who had decided to reposition herself right in my path. Obviously, there was no communication between Sally and the assistant director.

Being the polite Southern boy that I am, I muttered, “Excuse me” when I bumped her.

 “CUT!” yelled Ross. “GET HIM OUT OF HERE!”

With a scared look on his face, the assistant director hustled me out of the kitchen and got someone to replace me. I’m still a little ticked off that he didn’t explain to Ross that I was simply following his instructions.

Herb Ross must have blacklisted me in Hollywood afterward, because I’ve never been asked to do another movie.

Dr. Terry L. Jones is a professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. For an autographed copy of “Louisiana Pastimes,” a collection of the author’s stories, send $25 to Terry L. Jones, P.O Box 1581, West Monroe, LA 71294.