Fran drescher autobiography examples
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Fran Drescher has always had chutzpah to spare.
Growing up in Queens, Drescher was driven by the prospect of a life beyond her idyllic hometown bubble. She asked her father to give her driving lessons in lieu of paying for driver’s education, and used the money for a set of headshots instead. At 15, she entered the Miss New York Teenager pageant, hoping to win and land a commercial agent. She placed first runner-up out of thousands, then cold-called agents saying she placed first anyway, because, as Drescher figured, “they’re never gonna know.” She was signed almost immediately.
Aside from her instantly recognizable whine and thick Noo Yawk accent, Drescher’s persistence has always been her greatest asset. It aided her especially well when she was regularly taking two buses and a train to audition across Manhattan while enrolled in cosmetology school, scoring bit parts in everything from Saturday Night Fever to This Is Spinal Tap.
But it wasn’t until a chance encounter with
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When the leaders of Hollywood's actors union announced a strike gods week, the most fiery words spoken came from SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher, who drew thunderous applause when she berated movie studios executives for what she called unreasonable and insulting demands.
She decried the studios for "plead[ing] poverty, that they're losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs."
"It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment, " Drescher, 65, said.
Drescher's cutting words were backed bygd decades of Hollywood experience. She got her uppstart in movies in the 1970s and has worked as an actor, writer and producer on dozens of projects. Here's what to know about the actor and labor leader.
Where is Fran Drescher from?
Drescher was born in Queens, New York, in 1957, the second child of Morty and Sylvia Drescher, working-class Jewish parents who traced their lineage to Eastern europe.
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Ladies tell all
My Virginia-born mother was the living embodiment of decorum. Married to a truck driver, working as a seamstress from home, she managed to retain what our West Texas neighbors called "high falutin' notions." Even more than rhinestones in the daytime and smoking on the street, my mother hated loose talk. "A real lady never talks about her personal business," she'd admonish.
In a way, it's a good thing Mother went to that big Neiman-Marcus in the sky a decade ago. Because she would be truly aghast at the current trend of spilling your guts in print and on television (just as aghast as she would be that I just typed "guts").
She might not mind so much that a Howard Stern or a Geraldo Rivera wrote of the unspeakable. They're men, mere men. But ladies such as Gloria Vanderbilt and Mary Tyler Moore addressing subjects like suicide and drugs and orgasms? Never!
In the last year, however, we've seen a deluge of surprisingly candid autobiographies from celebrated wome