It seems like every few years Florence Henderson does a round of interviews, and in those interviews she has to talk about how bad Barry Williams wanted to do her. Yes, he wrote the book Growing Up Brady. He unleashed this can of worms. But at this point Barry must be wondering why she can’t seem to let it go (even talking about those great big hands and feet he had…). Talk to Florence Henderson for longer than five minutes and you’ll get some variation on this:
“Barry did have a serious crush on me, which I understood and helped him get past,” Henderson writes. “Let us just say that if he had entertained a roll in the hay with me, I would never have done it.”
Really, Mrs. Brady? That’s so weird, because in the very same interview you feel the need to tell the world how you were an adulterer. You had no qualms cheating on your husband with a politician infested with crabs, but Barry Williams was off limits because of the age difference? She “thanks God” she “had the brains” not to do it — even though she opened the door for “one date.” Somehow I find that hard to believe, especially since NYC’s mayor John Lindsay was fair game.
“I was lonely. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. So, what did I do? I did it,” she writes in “Life is Not a Stage,” set for publication in September.
Henderson went home later that night, and awoke to a grisly surprise the next day as she saw “little black things” crawling over her bed and body.
An urgent call to a doctor took care of the problem, known medically as pubic lice, and Lindsay sent her flowers and a note of apology.
“Guess I learned the hard way that crabs do not discriminate but cross over all socioeconomic strata,” Henderson writes. “He must have had quite the active life. What a way to put the kibosh on a relationship.”
So one more time: Florence Henderson is the kind of person who cheats on her husband. She’s the kind of person who waits until years after her crab-infested partner is dead just so she can dredge up all the dirty details for his surviving relatives to hear about when the book hits. And yet, Barry Williams wasn’t worth a “role in the hay,”?
Again, I think the Mrs. Brady regrets not sleeping with Barry in his prime; that’s why she can’t stop talking about it when she gets in front of the camera. I think she’s in her golden years and she thinks about a young, strapping Greg giving her butt-burn on a green astro-turf Brady-family set after everyone went home for the night. And I think that anyone who is shameless enough to talk about dirty deeds (done dirty cheap) is someone who shouldn’t speak in absolutes.