15 Burning Facts About 'St. Elmo's Fire'
'St. Elmo's Fire' (1985) | Columbia/TriStar
Released a little over two weeks after the infamous New York Magazine article that dubbed its cast “The Brat Pack," St. Elmo’s Fire was the 1985 coming-of-age movie featuring Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, and Judd Nelson that wasn’t The Breakfast Club.
It was the one about the uncertainty of life right after college, not the teenage angst of high school. It also was the one not made by John Hughes. Here are 15 things you might not know about St. Elmo's Fire.
1. IT WAS WRITTEN BY JOEL SCHUMACHER AND HIS ASSISTANT.
Carl Kurlander suffered from unrequited love with a waitress one summer while working as a bellhop at Chautauqua, New York’s St. Elmo hotel. He eventually turned the experience into a short story, which his college professor suggested he title St. Elmo’s Fire.
By the time Kurlander had become writer-director Joel Schumacher’s assistant, he had turned it into a screenplay. The two then worked together to rewrite it.
2. THE STUDIO HATED THE TITLE.
Columbia Pictures ended up producing the movie, and sent a 35-page memo listing all of their issues with the proposed title and suggesting such alternatives as The Real World and Sparks.
3. ANTHONY EDWARDS AND LEA THOMPSON AUDITIONED.
The future stars had to find their fame a little later. Most young actors weren’t turned off by the script, even though one major studio head allegedly called the seven main characters "the most loathsome humans he had ever read on the page.”
4. JOHN HUGHES WAS A BIG HELP IN THE CASTING PROCESS, BOTH ON PURPOSE AND BY ACCIDENT.
Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, and Judd Nelson were all strongly recommended for the movie by their Breakfast Club director. Schumacher “discovered” Demi Moore when she rushed past his office one day after Hughes stood her up for a meeting.
Schumacher asked Kurlander to follow her to find out if she was an actress, believing she looked just like what the character of Jules should look like.
Fortunately for them, she was; she had just spent a season on General Hospital.
5. MOORE AND ROB LOWE HAD MEMORABLE AUDITIONS.
Moore came in on a motorcycle for hers, with the tags still on her clothes. Lowe walked into his audition for Billy Hicks with a six-pack of Corona.
6. EMILIO ESTEVEZ WANTED TO PLAY BILLY HICKS.
He settled for playing Kirby Keger and dating Moore.
7. DEMI MOORE HAD TO GO TO REHAB BEFORE SHOOTING.
When she started showing up high for clothes fittings, Schumacher demanded that she get clean from drugs and alcohol to play Jules, who of course had a coke problem.
8. GETTING CAST AS DALE BIBERMAN JUMPSTARTED ANDIE MACDOWELL’S FILM CAREER.
Though the former model had appeared in 1984's Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, she was never actually heard, as Glenn Close dubbed all of her dialogue.
Schumacher hired her anyway, which she said changed her life.
9. MARE WINNINGHAM PLAYED A VIRGIN WHILE SHE WAS PREGNANT.
The 26-year-old actress was actually pregnant with her third child when she played Wendy Beamish. Winningham’s brother, Patrick, was also in the film; he played a member of Billy's band, The New Breed.
10. WENDY’S PARENTS WERE A DIVORCED COUPLE.
Martin Balsam and Joyce Van Patten, who played Wendy's parents in the movie, were actually married from 1957 to 1962. Their daughter, Talia Balsam, is also a noted actress who appeared on Mad Men with her husband, John Slattery.
Balsam also holds the distinction of being the first Mrs. George Clooney (they married in 1989 and were divorced less than four years later).
11. “ST. ELMO’S FIRE (MAN IN MOTION)” WAS WRITTEN ABOUT A PARALYZED ATHLETE.
David Foster and John Parr were attempting to write a theme song for the film, but Parr wasn’t motivated enough by it to write lyrics.
Foster brought the story of athlete Rick Hansen—who was traveling the world in his wheelchair in his “Man in Motion Tour” to promote spinal cord injury awareness—to Parr’s attention.
Parr wrote the words to promote Hansen, but made it ambiguous enough so that it could also work for the movie.
12. GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY WOULDN’T ALLOW ANY FILMING ON ITS CAMPUS.
While the story was about a bunch of Georgetown grads, the university read the script and declined the production's request to shoot on campus.
But the nearby University of Maryland stepped in and said yes. Still, the St. Elmo’s Bar is known to be based on The Tombs, a popular bar for Georgetown students.
13. JULES DID HAVE A FULL NAME.
According to the screenplay, it was meant to be Julianna Van Patten.
14. ANDREW MCCARTHY WASN’T MUCH OF A JOINER.
He spent his downtime listening to Bruce Springsteen on his Walkman. Estevez wrote screenplays during his breaks. Judd Nelson read Billy Budd while he was on set.
15. ALLY SHEEDY WAS "HORRIFIED" BY HER SEX SCENE.
It wasn't until the day of filming her steamy scene with McCarthy that Sheedy realized it wouldn’t be a simple fade out before any of the naked stuff happened (she wore a body suit).
But both McCarthy and Schumacher made the process more comfortable. "He knew I felt awkward, and he shot it fast," Sheedy said of her director. "He didn't draw it out into this painful exercise at all."
And a mishap actually added some laughter to the scene; when the shower door was pushed out of frame, it was an accident that stayed in the film, much like Sheedy’s reaction: "It was my real laugh there," she says.
The ’60s Icon Who Lost Love And Endured Tragedy: Her Photos At 86
Connie Francis stands as one of the most influential and successful female vocalists in American music history—a performer whose unmistakable voice helped define the sound of the late 1950s and early 1960s.
With timeless classics such as “Who’s Sorry Now?”, “Stupid Cupid,” “My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own,” and “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool,” she became an international sensation, captivating audiences around the world with her emotional delivery and remarkable vocal versatility.
Behind the glamour, however, was a life marked by extraordinary triumphs, heartbreaking loss, and an unwavering determination to survive challenges that would have broken many others.
Born Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero, Connie showed musical talent from an early age. Recognizing her potential, her father became the driving force behind her career.
Fiercely ambitious and deeply determined to see his daughter succeed, he encouraged—and often pressured—her to perform from childhood.
Under his strict guidance, Connie appeared in talent competitions, television programs, and live performances while still very young.
Although his relentless efforts ultimately helped launch one of the most successful careers in popular music, they also created enormous emotional pressure.
Connie would later acknowledge that the discipline and expectations placed upon her during her formative years shaped both her incredible work ethic and many of the personal struggles she experienced later in life.
Her breakthrough arrived in 1958 with “Who’s Sorry Now?” At first, the song attracted little attention, but after legendary television host Dick Clark played it on American Bandstand, everything changed.
Almost overnight, Connie Francis became a household name.
The record climbed the charts not only in the United States but across Europe and beyond, transforming her into one of the world's first truly international female pop stars.
Over the following years, she dominated radio with a remarkable string of hit records, sold millions of albums, and performed in multiple languages, building an enormous global fan base that stretched far beyond English-speaking audiences.
While her professional life appeared glamorous, her personal life was often filled with heartbreak. One of the deepest emotional wounds came from her romance with fellow singer Bobby Darin.
Their relationship blossomed during the early years of their careers, and the pair reportedly envisioned a future together.
However, Connie's father strongly disapproved of the relationship and ultimately intervened, preventing the romance from continuing.
The separation devastated both young performers. Bobby Darin eventually moved on and married actress Sandra Dee, while Connie would later describe losing him as one of the greatest heartbreaks of her life.
Years afterward, she admitted that she often wondered how different her life might have been had they been allowed to remain together.
As the years passed, the tragedies continued to mount. In 1974, Connie became the victim of a horrific assault following a performance, an event that profoundly affected her emotionally and psychologically.
The traumatic experience left lasting scars and dramatically altered her confidence and sense of security.
Determined that others should not endure similar suffering without support, she later became an outspoken advocate for victims' rights, helping raise awareness about crime victims and encouraging improvements in victim assistance programs throughout the United States.
Not long afterward, another devastating blow struck when her beloved younger brother, George Franconero Jr., was murdered.
His death shattered the family and plunged Connie into overwhelming grief. Losing someone so close while still coping with previous trauma compounded her emotional struggles and made everyday life increasingly difficult.
The combination of public pressure, personal loss, and unresolved trauma gradually took a severe toll on her mental health.
During these painful years, Connie faced profound depression and experienced periods of emotional crisis.
She openly discussed her struggles with mental illness, including a suicide attempt, choosing to speak honestly about experiences that were rarely discussed publicly at the time.
Her willingness to share her story helped reduce stigma surrounding mental health and encouraged countless others to seek treatment and support. Rather than hiding her pain, Connie transformed it into a source of compassion for people facing similar battles.
As if those challenges were not enough, Connie also endured a devastating setback to the very gift that had made her famous—her voice.
Following nasal surgery intended to improve her breathing, complications temporarily robbed her of her ability to sing.
For an artist whose identity and livelihood depended upon her voice, the experience was emotionally crushing.
The fear that she might never perform again left her questioning whether her extraordinary career had reached its end.
Through months of rehabilitation, patience, and determination, she gradually regained her vocal abilities, demonstrating once again the remarkable resilience that had become a defining characteristic of her life.
Despite enduring repeated personal tragedies, Connie refused to let hardship define her legacy.
Throughout the years, she found strength in several enduring sources: her deep religious faith, the love she shared with her adopted son Joey, and the unwavering support of generations of devoted fans who continued to celebrate her music long after her chart-topping years had passed.
Their encouragement reminded her that her voice—and her story—continued to matter.
Professionally, Connie Francis achieved accomplishments that remain extraordinary by any standard.
She sold more than 80 million records worldwide, recorded songs in numerous languages, and became one of the first female solo artists to enjoy sustained international superstardom.
Her influence reached far beyond America, making her one of the most recognizable voices of her era.
Even decades after her biggest hits, her recordings continue to be rediscovered by new generations of listeners who appreciate the sincerity, warmth, and emotional depth she brought to every performance.
Today, at 87 years old, Connie Francis is remembered not only as a legendary singer but also as a symbol of perseverance.
Living a quiet life in Florida after retiring from the spotlight, she remains an enduring inspiration to fans around the world.
Her extraordinary journey serves as a reminder that fame does not shield anyone from heartbreak, loss, or personal struggle, but it also demonstrates the remarkable resilience of the human spirit.
Through unimaginable challenges, Connie continued to move forward with courage, dignity, and hope.
Her legacy extends far beyond the millions of records she sold or the timeless songs she recorded.
It lives on in her advocacy for victims' rights, her openness about mental health, and her willingness to transform personal pain into compassion for others.
Connie Francis is remembered not simply because she possessed one of the most recognizable voices of the twentieth century, but because she showed the world that true strength is measured not by the absence of suffering, but by the courage to keep singing after life has tested you again and again.
