DEDICATION
CONTENTS
Dedication
Foreword
Introduction
Part 1 - Dreams That You Dare to Dream: Casting a Spell
Prelude to a Movie Classic
A Hollywood Commodity
Preproduction: From Page to Screen
The Wizard of Oz Finds Direction
Dorothy Gale
The Ruby Slippers
The Scarecrow
The Tin Man
The Cowardly Lion
The Wicked Witch of the West
Winkies & Winged Monkeys
The Wizard of Oz
Toto
Glinda
The Munchkins
The Land(scape) of Oz
Part 2 - We’re Off to See the Wizard: The Great Wizard of Oz Revealed
Postproduction
Setting the Date
Publicity and the Reviews
The Twelfth Academy Awards®
Not in Kansas Anymore
Rare Outtakes from Oz
Mervyn LeRoy
Magical Merchandise
Part 3 - If Ever a Wiz There Was: “The Wizard of Oz” Returns to Stay
The 1949 Rerelease
Judy Garland Comes of Age
The 1955 Rerelease
Oz Right at Home
Part 4 - Looking for Our Heart’s Desire: Forever Oz
The Legacy
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
FOREWORD
WHEN I FIRST met Judy Garland, she was sixteen years old and I was nineteen. I was working as a dancer on the M-G-M lot when I was chosen to be Judy’s stand-in for The Wizard of Oz. As I quickly learned, a stand-in never appears on film but takes the place of the actor while technicians are setting up the lights and camera. This job is important to all the technical work that is performed before shooting, so a stand-in must be of the same height, weight, and coloring as their famous counterpart. I understood why the young man who approached me about being a stand-in thought my appearance and dancing ability would be a perfect fit with Judy: with both of us at four feet, eleven inches tall, with dark hair and eyes, we could have been taken for twins.
Being on the set of The Wizard of Oz was an education. When I arrived at M-G-M for my morning call, my first stop was the makeup department. There, the makeup man sponged Max Factor’s “4N” peaches-and-cream foundation on me, perfect for Technicolor lighting because it looked light and natural. Next, a hairdresser made me look the part by following a picture of Judy as Dorothy as she wrapped my own hair around a long hairpiece before pinning it in place. A nice wardrobe lady led me to a dressing room, where I slipped out of my slacks and shirt and put on my costume of a blue-and-white checked pinafore and a pale pink, puff-sleeved blouse. I was told that the blouse would photograph as white on Technicolor film.
My first scene was on a soundstage arranged to look like a forest with the Yellow Brick Road running through it. I was surprised because I expected the first scenes to be the cyclone, followed by Munchkinland. But it was explained to me that movies were rarely shot in sequence. After several days, that set folded up, and I waited to be called for the next scene that would be shot about a month later, which would be set in Munchkinland.
In Munchkinland, I felt as though I was in a little storybook village with cartoon houses and oversize flowers. For a magical moment one day, I stood where the Yellow Brick Road began and closed my eyes, imagining I was the real Dorothy. After I had rehearsed the way the scene was to be staged, and all was properly lit and ready to go, they’d call Judy away from her tutor to take my position.
Throughout the course of filming, Judy and I lunched together several times in the M-G-M commissary. I felt guilty with my chicken sandwich and chocolate milk, while Judy only had a bowl of soup. (We both understood that the camera adds about ten pounds to your appearance on the screen, and Judy always seemed to be struggling with her weight then.) But she was sweet and friendly, the real-life embodiment of Dorothy. I had the feeling that Judy didn’t think she was attractive and wished that she could have been beautiful. I thought she was perfect.
Judy Garland and Caren Marsh (center) are joined in the M-G-M commissary by a Hollywood reporter during production of The Wizard of Oz in January 1939.
These many years later, it remains a delight to me to be associated with The Wizard of Oz. I have loved the book since I was a girl. Little did L. Frank Baum know that his book would be made into a motion picture that would be a favorite of young and old alike to this very day. As I look back on my many past performances, The Wizard of Oz will always hold a special place in my heart.
The Wizard of Oz: The Official Seventy-fifth Anniversary Companion honors the diamond anniversary of The Wizard of Oz and draws upon an incredible wealth of Wizard of Oz-related memorabilia that authors Jay Scarfone and William Stillman have been amassing for more than forty years. When I first saw the Scarfone/Stillman collection, I felt as though I were back on the movie set, surrounded by all of my friends. Through all the rare photographs and new research they have uncovered, most of which is presented here for the first time, I learned things about The Wizard of Oz I never knew—and I was there! It will keep the memories alive for fans of the film, and for future generations who will delight in discovering the magic of The Wizard of Oz for the first time.
—CAREN MARSH-DOLL
PALM SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA
INTRODUCTION
THE WIZARD OF OZ remains as fresh and vibrant as it was when it first debuted in 1939. Like so many other children, we were each captivated by the film, and watched its annual television broadcasts throughout the 1960s and 1970s. Once an air date was announced, the anticipation grew to encompass schoolyard chatter and lunchroom buzz—all leading to the momentous evening when the family gathered to savor those magical hours. It always seemed to pass by so quickly, leaving the aftereffect of a bittersweet sadness in knowing we’d have to wait until the next year to return to the Land of Oz. In the interim, we’d search for tangible reminders of that happy experience, be it a Wizard of Oz–related picture book, a sound-track recording, or porcelain figurines. Before we consciously realized it, we were on our way to becoming avid collectors and, as a byproduct of our passion, historians and archivists of the film.
Over the years, there have been numerous books devoted to or associated with the film. As much as we enjoy and admire The Wizard of Oz, we desired to honor this celebratory occasion only if we had something unique to present. We aspired to compile a commemorative album that adhered to strict criteria: its visuals would be largely composed of material rarely seen or previously unknown since 1939; and its text would contain newly uncovered quotes and fresh facts. As one might imagine, this was no easy feat for a motion picture so extensively written about, so intensively analyzed, and so fervently collected by dedicated Ozophiles. But in the course of our research odyssey, extraordinary materials “magically” surfaced to support our mission. To that end, we are pleased to present this comprehensive volume—a lavish tribute to the Turner Entertainment Co. film for its diamond anniversary.
We hope you’ll enjoy.
—JAY SCARFONE and WILLIAM STILLMAN
PART 1 - DREAMS THAT YOU DARE TO DREAM: CASTING A SPELL
THE STORY OF how The Wizard of Oz was made has a long history. Its attendant anecdotes have become nearly as legendary as the film itself. It is a rare occasion when two or more people gather to watch the film and n
o one present recites random, purported behind-the-scenes truths. In recent times, this has included such myths as a Munchkin suicide caught on-camera (a complete fabrication) and the alleged synchronicity of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon with on-screen events. Each generation has embraced The Wizard of Oz as its own, interpreting it uniquely. This is remarkable in that the film itself has never changed, despite our evolving tastes in popular culture.
Movie audiences of 1939 watched The Wizard of Oz unfold before their eyes. The film’s introductory statement read:
FOR NEARLY FORTY YEARS THIS STORY HAS GIVEN FAITHFUL SERVICE TO THE YOUNG IN HEART; AND TIME HAS BEEN POWERLESS TO PUT ITS KINDLY PHILOSOPHY OUT OF FASHION.
TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE BEEN FAITHFUL TO IT IN RETURN
. . . AND TO THE YOUNG IN HEART . . . WE DEDICATE THIS PICTURE.
As this dedication implies, the fable that would ultimately become one of the most-seen and best-loved motion pictures of all time had its origins nearly four decades prior. And in order to appreciate how The Wizard of Oz attained its mythic mantle, one must first understand the era in which it was created.
PRELUDE TO A MOVIE CLASSIC
IN 1900, L. Frank Baum’s best-selling book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz set the contemporary standard for children’s literature and became America’s first fairy tale. Baum’s fantasy was a departure from traditional nursery rhymes and European fairy tales, and readers of all ages were charmed by Dorothy, her friends, and her little dog, too. An adaptation of Baum’s story, set to music, became Broadway’s biggest hit of 1903 and made celebrities of Fred Stone and Dave Montgomery, the show’s Scarecrow and Tin Man. Successful cinematic ventures, however, were another matter. All screen treatments prior to 1938 had been busts: there had been a little-known 1910 interpretation; an obscure 1933 cartoon short; and a much-hyped but ultimately disastrous 1925 slapstick silent film starring Larry Semon, then a Comedy King. A fledgling radio serial of the early 1930s had experienced modest success, but that was an anomaly. Even Baum’s own early experiments with motion picture adaptations of his stories ended in financial ruin.
The unprecedented success of Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)—which grossed $3.5 million in Depression-era dollars—caused major motion picture studios to seriously reconsider the viability of film fantasy. According to a 1939 Cosmopolitan article, the story that moviegoing fans most wanted to see on-screen was that of the adventures of Dorothy and her dog Toto in the Land of Oz. A beloved classic for generations of readers, Baum’s tale had all the makings of a proper fantasy, and Hollywood was quick to pick up on its cinematic potential.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900) was L. Frank Baum’s sixth book for children, published when the author was turning forty-four. Its whimsical, ingenious illustrations were rendered by William Wallace Denslow (1856–1915). Throughout Baum’s writing career, he composed thirteen sequels, fifty-five novels in total, more than eighty short stories, more than two hundred poems, and various scripts for the stage.
L. FRANK BAUM:
THE MAN WHO DISCOVERED THE LAND OF OZ
“TO PLEASE A CHILD IS A SWEET AND LOVELY THING THAT WARMS ONE’S HEART AND BRINGS ITS OWN REWARD.”
–L. FRANK BAUM
L. FRANK BAUM (BORN May 15, 1856) had careers as an actor, shopkeeper, newspaper editor, and traveling salesman before writing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, which was printed in May 1900. In 1939, Baum’s widow, Maud, remembered that he wrote the story on scraps of hotel stationery and other bits of paper, scribbling down the fairy-tale anecdotes he had previously told his four sons and the neighborhood children. The story begins with little Dorothy and her black terrier, Toto, who live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry on a meager farm in the midst of the great, gray Kansas prairie. The setting is typical of many hardscrabble American pioneers of the era, but when a cyclone unexpectedly sweeps across the plains, it whisks Dorothy and Toto to the extraordinary Land of Oz. The Land of Oz is a parallel world not completely unlike Kansas: it is peopled with farmers, cornfields, tinsmiths, and carny magicians; but it is also a magical land. On her journey to return home, Dorothy befriends an animated scarecrow, a woodcutter made of jointed tin, and a talking but fearful lion.
The October 1900 issue of The Literary News declared The Wonderful Wizard of Oz “ingeniously woven out of commonplace material,” and suggested that it “will surely be found to appeal strongly to child readers . . . and one of the most familiar and pleading requests of children is to be told another story.” Telling more stories about the Land of Oz was not Baum’s intention, but after the success of this book, the author was deluged with letters requesting further chronicles about Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, the Cowardly Lion, and all the other creatures of his fanciful tale. In total, Baum penned fourteen Land of Oz–related books—usually one a year—in addition to many other children’s stories, adult novels, songs, and poems.
On April 19, 1903, Atlanta, Georgia’s The Constitution published L. Frank Baum’s inspiration for the word “Oz” of the book’s title. “Well,” he said, “I have a little cabinet file on my desk that is just in front of me. I was thinking and wondering about a title for the story, and had settled on ‘Wizard’ as part of it. My gaze was caught by the gilt letters on the three drawers of the cabinet. The first was A-G; the next drawer was labeled H-N; and on the last were the letters O-Z. And ‘Oz’ it at once became.”
When L. Frank Baum passed away on May 6, 1919, Los Angeles Times book critic Guy Bogart poignantly and prophetically eulogized the author in a letter to his widow: “It is scant relief in the first bitterness of loss to know that Mr. Baum is one of the world’s greatest literary figures of all ages—that he is the creator and discoverer of a new world of fiction for children; to realize that the millions to whom he has brought joy are but the first fruits of the many, many millions who will enjoy the Baum stories through centuries to come—because they are permanent.”
After Baum’s death, the characters and geography of the Land of Oz continued to be explored by other authors in additional related titles, until the books totaled forty in all. The series was discontinued after 1963, but the anticipation of an annual book for the holidays continued with the tradition of yearly television broadcasts of the film for the Christmas season and, later, at Eastertime.
A 1908 portrait of author L. Frank Baum was among the family photographs loaned by Baum’s widow, Maud, to M-G-M in 1939 in order to publicize The Wizard of Oz.
C. F. Payne’s mixed media portrait satirizes L. Frank Baum (1856–1919) as the Wizard of Oz in his runaway balloon accompanied by the creatures of his fertile imagination.
The Wizard of Oz as popular entertainment pre-1939: A montage of images illustrates various interpretations of the L. Frank Baum tales in theatrical, silent film, and radio productions. Included is ephemera from the famous musical-comedy stage play, which opened in Chicago in 1902 and relocated to Broadway in 1903. Other images show Baum’s 1913 The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, Margaret “Tot” Qualters as the Scarecrow in Miss 1917, and amateur performances by the Junior League (the first to call Dorothy’s magic shoes slippers). Cinematic interpretations count those from Baum’s Oz Film Manufacturing Co. (1913–15), Larry Semon’s 1925 comedy flop, and The Land of Oz from the Meglin Kiddies (1933). The Wizard of Oz radio show was sponsored by Jell-O and aired from 1933 to 1934.
A HOLLYWOOD COMMODITY
“THE WIZARD OF OZ, WHICH WILL BE FILMED AS AN ELABORATE MUSICAL EARLY NEXT YEAR, WAS PUT ON CELLULOID ONCE BEFORE, BUT NOT WITH THE SUCCESS WHICH ITS NEXT PRODUCER, SAMUEL GOLDWYN, PREDICTS FOR IT.”
–JOURNALIST HUBBARD KEAVY, OCTOBER 29, 1933
AT THE TIME, movie mogul Samuel Goldwyn owned the screen rights to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, having acquired them from L. Frank Baum’s eldest son in 1933. (The deal was legally sealed January 26, 1934.) But then, as now, rights acquisition didn’t necessarily translate into full-fledged productions. Scripts could languish, pictures could be announced and
then retracted, and entire productions might be shut down.
By early 1938, no formal production of the film was in the works. And Sam Goldwyn was in a funk over a corporate rift with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Charlie Chaplin, who collectively represented the United Artists (UA) production company. When negotiating with the Baum family to purchase screen rights a few years prior, Goldwyn had contemplated The Wizard of Oz as a Technicolor talkie with UA associate Pickford in the lead. As a preliminary experiment for The Wizard of Oz, Goldwyn filmed the seven-minute musical finale to Roy Del Ruth’s Kid Millions (1934) in Technicolor. In this segment, comedian Eddie Cantor is the Willy Wonka–esque proprietor of a fabulous ice cream factory visited by dozens of children. The Kid Millions fantasy sequence cost Goldwyn $200,000; the mogul announced that the following year he would invest “better than a million” to film The Wizard of Oz entirely in color for United Artists. But his plans never materialized beyond gossip-column supposition that Cantor would play the Wizard of Oz; that Ann Ronell, who cowrote “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?,” was doing the music; and that Goldwyn was scouting a writer who could do the Baum story justice.
Beginning in 1913, Samuel Goldwyn was a founding father in the burgeoning motion picture industry. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was borne of the 1924 merger between his Goldwyn Pictures and Marcus Loew’s Metro Pictures Corporation. Then known for his Goldwyn Follies and “Goldwyn Girls,” Goldwyn’s best-remembered contributions as producer or director include Wuthering Heights, The Little Foxes, The Best Years of Our Lives, and Guys and Dolls.
By the late 1930s United Artists’s founding members were scheming to sell off their company stock, buy out Goldwyn as an investor (and one of their independent producers), and sell the business to another film company. A prospective takeover deal by Goldwyn and director Alexander Korda had just fallen through in December 1937, and by January no equable resolution was in sight. During this impasse, Goldwyn retreated to Honolulu and entered into a self-imposed hiatus, momentarily disenchanted with the picture-making business. Upon his return, he began divesting his story properties, selling Murder in Massachusetts to Columbia, among others. Most significantly, he began entertaining offers on The Wizard of Oz, and a bidding war fast ensued.
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