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Mom's
These came from the Smithsonian Museum of American History What's the fuss
about? (FWIW, I like the Janet Gaynor version of the movie, made in 1937, also. And I like Barbra Streisand; I just hate her version of this movie) Judy on TV Live! Judy Trivia I am a theatre critic OK...so it's a new "career", but if you're interested in reading my reviews, go here Updated 2/11/01 WHAT I'M READING Christmas gift from my friend, Diane, who felt it was time I learn more about Australia That's it for today!
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OVER THE RAINBOW 16 February 2001 It occurs to me that I have made comments about Judy Garland here in this journal, but I’ve never really talked about Judy Garland here. Sunday there will be a movie shown, based on her daughter Lorna’s book about her mother (No "Mommy Dearest" here!) and so suddenly Garland has been thrown back into the spotlight, 34 years after her death. I remember the day of her death. June 22, 1969. Paul was the baby then. I was sitting on the couch in the living room of our house in Oakland. The phone rang. It was my mother. "Are you in mourning?" she asked. I didn’t know why. Then she told me Judy Garland was dead. It as probably the very first significant death I’d experienced. I was 26 years old. Despite the fact that my house is filled with Wizard of Oz memorabilia (most of which I’ve received as gifts), it was not the young Judy, but the adult Judy that I first encountered.
It was 1954. I was still in grammar school and I walked to school each morning with my friend Gayle. She went to more movies than I did (and she had a television set!) and each Monday morning she would recount the plot of the movie she’d seen that weekend. That was when I first heard of A Star Is Born. It sounded like a good movie and I must have gone to see it the next weekend. I don’t exactly remember seeing it for the first time. I just remember that after I saw it, I was hooked on Judy Garland. In the intervening years, I’ve seen that movie over 100 times. That may be a conservative estimate. There was a 6 month period of time when it ran at a cheap movie house (50 cents admission!) which was on the cable car line in San Francisco. I would take the cable car home from night school. The theatre ran A Star Is Born frequently and I would stop off on my way home. I only saw the last 20 minutes, but I always watched that anyway. When video came in, I recorded the movie off TV, then I bought the video, then I bought the restored video. Now I own the DVD. When the movie was re–released in its restored version, we went to the big premiere at the Paramount Theatre in Oakland. It was a big deal, with red carpet and searchlights. Our group paid top dollar for the tickets and sat in the row behind James Mason and Lillian Gish, who were giving the intermission talks about the importance of film preservation. I could have leaned over and whacked Mason on the head with my program if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t. For many years I kept a huge scrapbook about Judy Garland (I haven’t taken the material out in years, but it lives in 8 huge 3-ring binders). When we got TV, I watched all of the old movies I could, all of her special appearances. While other girls my age were screaming at Elvis, I ate, slept and breathed Judy Garland. (It’s been said by more than one person that I’m really a gay man in the body of a dyke.) I joined the Judy Garland Fan Club so I could read about her various appearnces around the country. She came to San Francisco with a variety type show, with Alan King as her opening act. It played at the Opera house for a week and I was able to afford tickets for 3 of the performances. (I went alone, because there was nobody else who shared my passion.) She was heavy for that tour, but seeing her on stage live was pure magic. I remember excitedly calling my mother at the end of the show so she could come and pick me up. "She wasn’t even drunk!" I exclaimed. In 1960 she made her legendary performance at Carnegie Hall. The album won the Grammy that year and she toured the show around the country. It was playing for one night only in San Francisco, and I learned from the fan club that she was going to be staying at the Fairmont Hotel. I joined a group of people who sat in the lobby waiting for her to check in. We waited all day, but she never showed up. Most of the people were working people and had to go back to work the following day, Monday. Only two of us returned on Monday to wait for her again. Suddenly--there she was. Judy Garland. In the flesh. My hands trembled so badly I could hardly assembly my camera (I had a Brownie box camera with a flash attachment you needed to put together and a flash bulb that you inserted. I hadn’t been prepared enough to have that all put together before she arrived). I was surprised at just how short she was and how fragile she seemed. I approached her, and she signed a photo for me. I asked if I could take her picture. I can still hear her say, "Well, I’m kind of a mess, but I don’t mind if you don’t." I took the picture and then left her alone while I sat down and continued to shake. She went up to her room, but didn’t like the arrangements, so she was back 20 minutes later to move to a different hotel. As she passed through the lobby, she waved at us, swept into her cab and took off. That night I joined the throng at the Civic Auditorium. We were there when she arrived and chased her car to the stage door (never in my life, before or since, have I ever done anything like that). I sat 4th row center for the concert and was so moved that I actually rushed the stage at the end and still remember how tiny and how cold her hand was as she shook my hand while the applause washed over us in waves. I never saw her "live" again. I watched all the movies, watched all the TV shows, including her short-lived TV series. After she died, I started buying the books and probably own most of them now, in addition to more than 50 albums and several CDs.
I still can’t pass up a new "thing" about Judy Garland. I recently purchased the newly remastered gold CD of the Carnegie Hall concert, for example, which includes all the flubs and all of her conversation with the audience. For one tiny package, she was larger than life. She had a voice which still touches my soul. And I find satisfaction in learning that for all of the troubles she had in her life, for all the ups and downs, the drugs, the booze, and everything that she went through, none of her kids has ever written a "Mommie Dearest" Book about her. I suspect that when you grow up in the spotlight you never know what "normal" is. It must be a terrible burden to carry. She didn’t carry it well, but she left an impact on millions of people. I am definitely one of them.
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Some pictures from this journal |
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Created 2/13/01 by Bev Sykes |
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