'Confessions of a Prairie Bitch': Alison Arngrim's brilliant and hysterical memoir on child stardom, and childhood horrors

"I've learned that people see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe."

Little House on the Prairie's Alison Arngrim takes us back to homespun bonnets and one-room schoolhouses and, um, cocaine in her 2011 memoir, a brutally honest, year by year rundown of her unreal reality growing up in Hollywood. Alison was one of the stars of the biggest family television show of the 1970's, and arguably, the most famous pint-sized, underage villain to ever grace the small screen.

Naturally, Angrim had her issues with child stardom, and she spares no gory details. She was exposed to drugs and alcohol from a young age (she was doing LSD at age eight), she worked long hours in brutal heat and uncomfortable costumes and even once fainted in the middle of a scene, and was beat up by other children and called names for playing "the bitch" on T.V. Meanwhile, she was often left alone by her absent parents (also in show business, her mother was the voice of Casper the Ghost and Gumby) to be babysat by her older brother, and says she was molested multiple times by him. She would later become an advocate for children's rights, both on and off the set. (Angrim even came out to Pennsylvania to testify at hearings about reality T.V., spearheaded by Rep. Murt. The inquisition would ultimately result in P.A. tightening its child labor laws, which go into effect this month.)

But ironically, Angrim was part of a production that was widely regarded as very protective of children, even ahead of its time. Michael Landon fiercely guarded the children on set, and the child actors have almost all grown up to be very stable and successful adults, avoiding the typical pitfalls. Coincidence? "Mary" and "Laura" continued to act into adulthood and have families. The twins who played "Carrie" quit acting and went back to high school to live normal lives, both of them riding and breeding horses. "Albert" founded a charity in Los Angeles for troubled children. "Alisha" married a real estate agent and now appears on the Real Housewives. "Willie" is a stockbroker and never acted again. "Cassandra" was a finance reporter for CNBC and now FoxNews.

Oh, and this cute little moppet of a cowboy? Remember sad orphan "James" who ended up shot by robbers?

Yeah, he's this beautiful man now:

Be still my heart!

And of course Alison Arngrim grew up and became an advocate for children, as well as a comedian, and has made a real difference for kids. Here is Arngrim's recounting of how Michael Landon guarded his child stars:

"Everyone always asks if Michael was like a father to me, if he loved me. I have no idea if he loved me, but he went one better as far as I’m concerned. He respected me. Respect is something very hard to come by for child actors. They are often treated as dumb animals or props, objects to be moved about in service of the plot or the other actors. They’re sometimes instructed to do no more than hit their mark and “act cute”. Making silly faces and repeating inane catchphrases is encouraged. In these circumstances, not much is expected of them, and “not much” is exactly what you get. I think this contributes to the rampant lack of self-respect we see so often in ex-child stars and the resulting self-destructive behavior. If you’re never asked to meet a standard, never held accountable for anything, sure, nothing’s ever your fault, but then nothing’s ever to your credit, either. It’s pretty much like you were never even there. This was never the case for any child actor in Little House on the Prairie. Or as we like to say, “Cast of Little House: no arrests, no convictions.”

And I do believe we owe that to Michael."

Lest you think the entire book is yet another tired, depressing commentary on how brutal this industry is for someone so young, Arngrim peppers the tragedies in the book with laugh-out-loud stories and antidotes from the fanciful world of Hollywood circa 1973. In particular, her first encounter with Melissa Gilbert, then a nine-year-old little firecracker (who would later go on to act in dozens of projects and eventually be elected president of SAG), goes something like this:

Gilbert

"She [Melissa Gilbert] marched right in and introduced herself and began explaining things to us, all kinds of things: who was who, who did what, how everything worked. She was filling us in, in no uncertain terms, mind you, as to the way things were around here…

Then came her stern warning, delivered with the intensity of Edward G. Robinson, in the vocal range of Shirley Temple: “And whatever you do, you watch out for that Melissa Sue Anderson. She’s very dangerous. She’s evil, and I hate her.” Now, my aunt could not sit still for this. Melissa Sue Anderson? The girl cast to play Laura’s big sister, Mary? She was a little girl, for heaven’s sake!

My aunt chided, “Oh, honey, you don’t mean that! You don’t really hate her now, do you?” “Yes, I do!” Melissa squeaked. “I hate her, and she hates me. She tried to kill me, you know. And she’ll kill you, too, if she gets the chance!” And then she ran off.

It was as if we were suddenly in the middle of a really bad prison movie with an all-midget cast. We had just been told to “watch our backs” by someone who looked like a talking Holly Hobby doll."

Melissa and Alison became best friends and have remained so ever since.

A must-read, Arngrim's memoir is widely available on Amazon.com, including for Kindle, and even many local libraries.