Carol Marsella

BY the time I was five, I had already lived in one orphanage and nine different foster homes and I knew that I did not want to live any longer. I had assumed the role of a victim and was afraid of everything and everyone. Having let my weakness get the better of me, I used to pray, before I fell asleep at night, that I would not awaken on the morn.

One day, as I was walking along with a little friend named Megan, we were approached and surrounded by three neighborhood kids who were bigger than we. As I became paralyzed with fear, from my right, I heard a voice.

Turning, I saw an even larger figure approaching. I held my breath as I watched him advance, drawing menacingly toward us without ever having quickened his pace.

I was not the only one who had found him intimidating; those monster kids had run off.

Megan ran to him. "This is my brother, Nicky," she beamed proudly as she hugged him around his waist. “He’s tuff!”

"You two, okay?" he queried as he lowered himself on one knee and looked into our faces.

He smiled and stood, placing himself between us. As he walked us back to her house, Megan on his right, me on his left, he swung his arms protectively around us. Still unnerved by his proximity, I was afraid to take my eyes off of him long enough to blink; I could not help but stare up at him as we headed down the street toward their house.

His eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted as he looked down at me and cheerfully bid me, "Smile." It was all he said. It was enough.

I did smile. I blinked. I turned my gaze forward and reveled in the comfort that his presence afforded. I had never known such a feeling of safety as I did that afternoon in the summer of 1959 with Nicky's left arm touching my hair and his hand resting gently upon my shoulder....

That night, as I spoke in hushed whispers to the God in the picture on the wall, I told Him that I knew what I needed to make life bearable. I asked for a brother of my own. A real brother, I clarified, not a foster.

The following week, I was moved. I never saw Megan or her big brother ever again.

In the new house, my bed was in the basement, directly below the living room where the family's Television Set was placed. There were four of us, fosters, and though we were not allowed to actually watch the television, we listened to it all the time. It was our biggest secret.

I have no way to remember how much time passed before the night I lay awake in my bed and first heard the gravelly voice that would change everything for me but I well remember that it soon became the sound I loved more than any other.

Before long, I learned that the man with the raspy voice was called by the name of Jess Harper. He had a way about him that I found to be something trustworthy. Maybe it was his honesty about his inability to be perfect. Maybe it was the way his friends loved him and trusted him. What opened my heart to him completely was that I had heard him say he'd lost his parents. He was an orphan, too. Like me. He was all alone. Just like me. I concluded that he was my long lost brother and that it was only a matter of time before he would be coming for me.

I learned how to take care of myself and I made sure that I worked hard and did well when I went to school. I was so sure that Jess Harper would be coming for me and I wanted to be a little sister of whom he would be proud (so that he would not be sorry that he came and leave without me).

I imagined what Jess Harper looked like and I imagined this place called the Sherman Ranch where he lived. I imagined Slim Sherman, Jonesy and Andy. I imagined myself standing up for what I thought was the right thing. I imagined myself a good student and a good friend. It was a wonderful time for me as I put my imagined ethics and strengths into practice and learned how to be a real person. How to get through life without being a victim. How to be a friend.

When Laramie ended, I thought I would, too. But I was already too strong to break like that. Well, of course I was; I had a good example. ~ ~ I have thanked God every day of my life for Jess Harper and thus for Robert Fuller.

Someone mentioned ‘Jess Harper’ at a New Year's party (2002) and, in the conversation that followed, I learned that the name of the show was LARAMIE and the actor who played him was Robert Fuller. My wonderful guy gave me a box of Laramie videos on Valentines Day that year and it took me three days to gather up the courage to watch them because I was so afraid of what Jess would look like - did not want to give up my 44 year old imagery of him! THAT was the very first time I saw Jess Harper's face.

Carol with Robert at the Robert Fuller Fan Club Party - 19th March 2004 in Scottsdale.