With empathy for young and old - and an eye toward what to do
A man who was once a child actor and is now in his 60s is plugged into both worlds. "Respect and care for the elderly and for our children is the measure of our society," says Paul Petersen. And this, I think, is also the measure of a man.
By John Bogert

I've known Paul Petersen for more than a decade. But, like most people my age, I feel that I met him in 1958. That was the year the Gardena resident stole the show from Cary Grant and a young Sophia Loren in the movie "House Boat."

That was also shortly after he was fired from the Mickey Mouse Club for being too rambunctious. This kid pushed into show business at age 5 and into the national memory on the long-running (1959 to 1966) "Donna Reed Show."

Or pushed into it, sort of.

"I asked my mother about this, and she said, `Paul, what was I supposed to do with you?' Good question. I could sing and dance. I was outgoing, and I had an extremely fertile imagination. What do you do with a kid like that?"

You put him in show business, where he makes a nice dollar and lives a dream, remaining lifelong friends with Cary Grant, cutting records, touring and working endlessly, even getting billed in two pictures ahead of Harrison Ford and winding up more or less out of work at age 18.

What followed was the usual kid actor disasters, only they were less publicized in those days. But what didn't happen was the tragic ending. On the contrary, Petersen took his hard knocks and, 20 years ago, started a child-actor support group called A Minor Consideration, thus becoming the nation's foremost and often only voice of child performers.

It's amazing who Petersen knows. Back in 1996 he invited me to a memorial service for Tommy Rettig in Marina del Rey. Rettig was the first boy on the first "Lassie" in 1954 and, because I interviewed him in his afterlife as a software designer, Petersen invited me to a service attended by a host of grown child stars.

It was a surreal event, with nearly everyone present having once been a cute, nation-charming kid. Many of them, including Petersen, would later appear in the 2003 "Dickie Roberts - Former Child Star," a David Spade vehicle that he and his friends made sure would tell a real-enough story of a kid actor on a greased track to heartbreak.

But that's not the story here. This is a story about how Petersen long ago faced his demons and came away a better man, maybe even a great man. Take, for instance, our recent meeting. The still thick-haired and handsome veteran of countless movies and TV show had just come from visiting his ailing mother and three aunts, all of whom depend upon the 62-year-old father and husband.

As always, he was flummoxed by the current crop of publicly troubled young performers.

"It's like dealing with HIV. There's no end to the education A Minor Consideration has to do," he said, shaking his head. "Every five years a new generation of kids is brought to the altar by parents who think that they somehow know better than everyone who came before them. They just know that it won't happen to them."

"It" being what has happened to so many child stars: getting ripped off by parents, agents and managers; working long show business hours; and learning from often inadequate tutors in rotten learning situations while missing a normal childhood.

Petersen did it, and it seemed like kid heaven. Only with a bad morning-after, one that arrives for many on the day you stop being a cute kid or the day when your lack of discipline lands you in jail.

Over the years he has helped strengthen laws protecting the incomes of child actors while generally being the mouthpiece for the 600 former activist child actors who make up his organization. An organization not generally loved by those who employ youngsters.

By the way, a third of those ``kids'' are now over age 60. And that, coupled with the responsibility of looking after his aging family members, five years ago brought Petersen to yet another group of voiceless ones.

In addition to promoting his usual agenda, Petersen now hosts the thrice-weekly L.A. Cityview 35 (also available at www.lacityview.org) program, "Aging In Los Angeles." On the program, Petersen seems genuinely interested in elder issues and in the problems facing the "sandwich generation" now caring for them.

"Aging is the invisible gorilla. Eighty-million baby boomers will soon be over age 60, and if we're not prepared for that, this country is going to be in big trouble," said Petersen, who populates the show with heavyweight experts.

One recent episode focused on gambling addiction. Others deal with elder abuse, hoarding, home safety, vision loss, isolation, osteoporosis and the integration of seniors into society.

"The way we treat elders is disgraceful," said the man who serves on national and state commissions on aging. "This is all happening in an age when children are given things instead of guidance, in a time when the elderly are seen as ugly, in a time when parents spend $1,000 to take a child to see Hannah Montana, in a time when this 14-year-old girl is being allowed to spend 52 days on the road. Who is that enriching?"

This, he explains, is in direct contradiction to what we know about adolescents and what we know about the similarities between children and the elderly.

"The forebrain, the part that puts the brakes on dangerous behavior, is underdeveloped in children and out of action in older people, leaving both open to exploitation."

Petersen is plugged into both these worlds, one that he sums up in a single sentence: "Respect and care for the elderly and for our children is the measure of our society."

And this, I think, is also the measure of a man.