Category Archives: Georgann Rea

Summers Away from Georgann

Flower Children: Striking a pose next to Daddy’s Mustang convertible.

One summer, before Mother took us away to London, Daddy had some time off from the Guthrie and rented a little place in Wisconsin.  He’d drive along the back roads at what felt like a hundred miles an hour with the top down and Robbie and I jumping up and down in the back seat as the wind blew back our hair and rushed through our fingers.  I still get that feeling of freedom sometimes on a long drive.

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Georgann Rea and Jesus Christ

Jesus Christ Superstar!

One of Mother’s London boyfriends, a TV producer named Herb Sargent, swept us all off to a Wings concert one night, and Robbie and I sat in the booth. We didn’t get to meet Sir Paul (Mother did), but we did get to meet Ted Neeley, who we recognized as super cute Jesus in the film of “Jesus Christ Superstar”. We had only played the record a million times, so it was a huge thrill for us!

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Rags to Riches

From Kansas City to Versailles in one blog post!

A much quicker version of my mother, Georgann Rea’s journey from Iowa orphanage to Kamsas City Plaza dweller to Minneapolis actor’s wife to Dakota dwelling Broadway Producer’s wife to wealthy American Divorcee in London!  Thirty years from there to here and in ten more she’d be broke again.  

Here we are on an ASL trip to Versailles.  Note the crazy 70s styling.

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Winstead’s in Kansas City Today on Chanel Bonfire

Winstead’s in the Plaza Section of Kansas City
Home of Kansas City’s “steakburgers” since 1940 and the location of my parents’ first illicit dates.  My mother knew my grandfather would not approve of her marrying an actor or a landed alien from Canada.  When they were married they kept it a secret from him for as long as they could.  I wonder if the waitresses knew. 
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Fighter of Pancho Villa, bank president, rib maker, man of mystery.

My grandfather, William McAdams…

…ran away from home at fifteen, lied about his age to join the army and fight Pancho Villa, started a bank and later, adopted my mother.  Here he is the way I remember him, on his patio in Kansas City cooking his famous ribs.  Served with hush puppies (one of the most incredible things my sister Robbie and I ever gobbled down).  He’d spend all day back by the bbq slow-cooking them with a bottle of bourbon at hand.  The ribs had a secret ingredient.  Sadly, he took the secret to his grave along with many other mysteries we’ll never know the answers to. 

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