I knew the time would come when I’d have to write this book.

Not that I need the money – God knows I have plenty of that – but it’s time to come clean with America – with the world – and finally confirm or tell the public what they’ve been wanting to know. This is a frank and honest, no-holds-barred autobiography. The kind that’s wished for but many people don’t have the guts to write. I do.

Some of these people I’m writing about are still my best friends. They know I’m writing this. They understand why. It’s kind of a confession to the world. It’s no secret that I was born in Hollywood in the 1960s and before I was able to walk or talk, was already known to many of Hollywood’s elite.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that dad, Owen Greene, was an award-winning director and mom, Sarah Sullivan, had been a famous actress in her own right. Or that my aunts, Mary Ann Johnson and Kelly Hutchinson, were popular TV icons in the 1970s. None of that hurt. But I like to think that I made my way on my own. I’ve been a successful actress for nearly 40 years. I’ve paid my dues and then some. I’ve made my own way and sometimes made it the hard way. But the point is, I’ve made it.

As I near my 40th birthday I can’t help thinking about my life in snippets. Sort of like flashbacks in a bad movie of the week, but also like those from a great comedy. I’ve been through it all, seen and done most everything. You name it; it’s probably hiding in a closet like an old dress, waiting to be brought out for the annual dance. As I said before, I was born to very successful parents in Hollywood. I took my first breath right at the start of the Flower Child period.

That in itself has played a very important part of my life. Even though I was too young to participate at the time, I managed to work some of the finer points of being a Flower Child into my life history. When I was six months old, I had already appeared in more than a dozen commercials for baby and adult products. I don’t know whether my parents pushed me hard or whether the casting directors liked what they saw. But work continued. And even now, as I sit in our London brownstone, I get calls from people wanting me to work. Showbiz is all I’ve ever known. It’s all I ever wanted to do.

And I took advantage of that fact by doing some things that I’d never let my children do. Never. But, I did. Maybe I was rebellious. Maybe I didn’t know better. Maybe I had little supervision. Maybe it was the bipolar disorder. Whatever the reason, I’ve led a very unique life. I haven’t found a cure for a rare disease. I haven’t run a country. I haven’t solved a scientific or mathematic dilemma. But I have a life full of what most people won’t even believe. But they should. Every word in this is true. And every word is part of my legacy. One that I’m leaving to my children. And to the world.

So here’s my confession.

Kellie Greene McAlister

Chapter One
My dad was born in Houston in 1928. The son of a field laborer, he always wanted more out of life. He grew up poor, with three sisters and five brothers in a three-room house on the “other side of the tracks.”

Because he was one of the youngest, his eight siblings always took care of him, making sure he was able to finish high school. When his eldest brother moved to Southern California in 1947, dad followed. He managed to work odd jobs until he lucked into one at a movie studio. He was basically still a laborer – a set janitor – but spent all of his spare time reading and learning all he could about the business.

In just three short years, he’d moved up to the mailroom and eventually became an assistant to director George Samulson. Samulson was famous for making legendary westerns in the forties. Dad became Samulson’s right hand man and Samulson was kind enough to teach dad the tricks of the trade. By the mid 1950s, dad was working as the assistant director with Samulson and a couple of other lesser-known directors. He was also enthralled by the music of the time.

He loved the rock and roll brought about by artists like Jerry Lewis and Elvis Presley. He knew that rock and roll would be a part of music – as well as movie – history. And he had an idea as to how to combine the two and make it work on film. By the late 1950s, he had – with Samulson’s blessing and financial support as a producer – moved up to director of his first movie – the legendary “Beachtime,” starring Mickey Lewis and Jane Halfacre.

During auditions for the show, he met my Aunt Kelly, who had recently moved to the area from Georgia. She wanted to be an actress and was at one of her first auditions after arriving in the West. Dad was immediately infatuated. With her long brown hair and deep brown eyes, she looked like the fresh Georgia peach that she was. Although she wasn’t cast in the movie, dad did get a chance to see her again. He followed in the suit of so many directors of the past and present and asked the ingénue out on a date. Wisely, she accepted. Their relationship continued for months. They became good friends and the relationship was more friendly than romantic.

Then her sister, Sarah – my mom – arrived shortly after her 17th birthday. A high school dropout, she wanted to become an actress like her sister. While dad and Aunt Kelly were compatible, he soon knew that Sarah was more to his liking. He and Kelly parted amicably and he began dating my mom. She was 17. He was 33. Six months after they began dating, mom learned she was pregnant. Having more morals than a few of his peers in the business, dad married mom, making her an honest woman and making him a nervous wreck. Here he was with a 17 – soon to be 18 – year old wife and a baby (Billy) on the way. Like a lot of fathers, dad took to the task as he did his work: giving it 100% of his attention – when he was at home.

Billy was seven months old when mom became pregnant again. Bobby was born the next year, followed a year and a half later by Suzanne. I followed in 1965. In between having and raising a growing family, mom worked part time as a series actress, getting quite a few major parts in weekly the weekly TV shows of the time. She was good. Drama, comedy…you name it, mom could play the part. She was a natural. I like to think I got some of my talent from her and some from dad. I think that’s why I’ve been a successful actress, director, writer and producer in L.A., New York and London.

I was two years old when my dad died. He contracted pneumonia while filming a movie in Peru and never recovered. I knew something was wrong. I knew my dad didn’t come home anymore. I just couldn’t comprehend why. Already, I was known to the world. A child actress who everyone was trying to secure for their series or movie. The pressure was there, but I didn’t know what it was. It was just natural. I’d known it all my life.

But the pressure was something that mom couldn’t handle. She started drinking and using drugs. Just a cocktail or joint or two here and there at first. Then it escalated into coke, LSD, and heroin. Before anyone knew it, she was a full-fledged alcoholic and drug addict. She was lucky to have two sisters living in L.A. (Aunt Mary Ann had moved to L.A. shortly before Suzanne was born). Although all three were working actresses, Aunt Kelly and Mary Ann filled in for mom when she couldn’t work – or get out of bed due to her growing depression.

The lack of a dad and mom’s addiction took a toll on me as well. My dad had died. My mom was missing in action. If it weren’t for my aunts, I don’t know that I’d have stayed in the business. They took me to auditions, working with my agent. They made sure I was on time for rehearsals and filming. They were my life-blood. Occasionally mom would go into rehab and come out clean – for a while. Before long, she slipped back into her old habits and once again was gone from our lives. She spent a tremendous amount of time at the house, stoned, with some strange actor in her bed.

Later in life, she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a condition, which I later learned, I inherited. But at the time, there really wasn’t a name for it. Or a treatment. At least not one that she sought out. Her weekly visits to her shrink were enhanced only by her nightly trips – either to the liquor store or on drugs. Needless to say, her career sank to nothingness. She was falling fast and eventually she did hit bottom and attempted suicide. She spent weeks being up for days, with just an hour or two sleep, then she crashed and spent months depressed, suicidal, hardly able to get out of bed. When she was finally diagnosed in the mid-1980’s, she’d already lived a hard life. Besides losing a husband, she’d had to suffer the consequences of a disease she had no control over for years. That’s why – I think – she turned to drugs and alcohol to help ease the pain.

My relationship with mom was strained...