Free Still Growing: An Autobiography by Kirk Cameron

did.
    Someone somewhere along the way started the Gum Wall. Folklore says it was me, but I don’t remember—though I admit, it sounds like something I would have done. Personally, I think Jeremy did it. I suppose that whoever it was got caught at the last moment, realized that he needed to be onstage
now
, forgot to remove the gum from his mouth, and impulsively stuck it on the backside of the Seaver living room wall. It didn’t take very long before everyone else decided this was a great place to stash his or her gum, too. For years, the blob grew until it looked like a giant, multicolored tumor. Alan says we should have sold it on eBay. Too bad no one thought of saving the sick monstrosity.
Don’t Waste Another Minute on Your Cryin’
     
    As a performer, I enjoyed drawing out tears—of laughter.
    My on-set nickname was “Devil Boy,” and it was anyone’s guess when I’d strike again. Pranks were Devil Boy’s mission. I was known to steal keys and hide cars in bushes on other sets. There was the “Morningglory” stink bomb that wafted its lovely odors from underneath the bleachers on tape night (usually during a “Carol” scene), the Vaseline on toilet seats, the snakes slithering onto set, the missing director’s chairs that were eventually found hanging from the rafters, and the time when Alan the Muffin Man found all his muffin tops missing because Devil Boy had gotten there first.
    Some of my best pranks were played on the cameramen. If I was feeling particularly devilish on tape night, I’d stealthily switch the focus and zoom cables on the cameras during our dinner break. When the cameramen were under the gun—live in front of the audience—trying to frame a close-up, the shot would simply go out of focus. When they’d scramble to re-focus, the shot would zoom in.
    I also found that taping toothpicks to a wheel on the camera pedestal did a fine job of destroying a smooth dolly move to the right. The beauty of this stunt was that it was next to impossible to find the toothpick—not only because the wheels had covers, but also because there were three wheels the toothpick could be taped to.
    Jeremy was my partner in crime, especially in school. We wrote notes and pinned them to the back of our teacher’s corduroy jacket. The notes said things like “I hate puppies,” “I wish I didn’t work on
Growing Pains
,” “Bring back the original Carol,” and so on.
    One note wasn’t enough. The challenge grew and soon we were taping notes to the notes until the teacher had a tail 20 notes long, flapping around behind him as he went about our tiny classroom.
    I noticed that phone techs could make a phone ring and asked one to teach me how. When the teacher wasn’t looking, I punched in the code. When it rang, I said, “I’ll get it.”
    “Oh, hi, John,” I pretended to say to the director. Then I pulled out my disappointed voice. “But I just got back to school . . . uh-huh . . . well, as long as it’s quick, I don’t want to miss study time. I’ll be right in.” I hung up and turned to the teacher. “I guess they need me for a scene,” and off I went.
    Sometimes I took Jeremy and Tracey with me, borrowing a golf cart and charging off to the
Fantasy Island
set, which had dirt roads going into a jungle of banana trees, bamboo, pine trees and palms. We tried to catch some of the feral cats that prowled around in their own private world,mostly just attempting to get lost so no one could find us. Eventually we sauntered back to our jobs, innocent as lambs.
    I could never really get in trouble, because, well . . . what were they going to do, fire me? That was the fun of it. Who was gonna get mad at the kid with the cute, crooked smile?
We’re Nowhere Near the End
     
    Although our long weeks made for a very exhausting life, every three weeks we had a week off and that helped. Sometimes I got burnt out, usually at the end of a season. I got tired of trying to learn new lines while