Mommie Dearest

by Christina Crawford

  Although I was not in any trouble at home, most of that year I spent weekends at the Chadwicks. I had become part of the family now and they had become my surrogate parents. Because of their age they were more like grandparents but they were kind to me and there was a consistency about our relationship that gave some stability and order to my life. It’s true that I worked very hard at their house and I wasn’t allowed to participate in the normal Saturday activities on campus because of it, but I even got over resenting that after a while. As Sandy and I worked together we became good friends. She had a bad time at home too, so we were able to commiserate with one another, which helped. She had a wry sense of humor and more often than not we got into trouble for giggling and laughing instead of doing our work. It gave the drudgery a perspective though and we’d managed to lighten the whole situation with our kidding and some harmless practical jokes.

  I had already decided what I wanted to be when I grew up. After realizing at about the age of 10 that there was no future for me as a cowboy, an accidental turn of events made the new decision easy. Each year the school put on a Gilbert and Sullivan musical. My first year the elementary school was doing HMS Pinafore. I had auditioned for the lead role of Josephine but didn’t get it. However, after months of rehearsal and just about a week before the performance, the girl playing Josephine got the flu. Since I was the only soprano who could fit into the costume, it was decided that I’d step in as Josephine. The music teacher, Mr. Stewart, worked privately with me for hours every day. By dress rehearsal I knew all the songs and what I was supposed to do but I was scared to death. All I could think of was my total failure as the mother in my Brownie troop’s production of Hansel and Gretel some years before. Mother had been asked many times to let me be in pictures like Cheaper By the Dozen all during my childhood but she had always refused, so I had practically no experience acting.

  The day of the performance for the school and parents finally arrived and I had butterflies in my stomach from the time I got up in the morning. We had a final rehearsal, then went to get ready for the show.

  By some miracle, everything went wonderfully well during the entire performance. I didn’t make even one mistake and my voice sounded clear even without a microphone. I knew the pale lavender dress and matching bonnet looked very pretty on me and the show was a great success with students, faculty and parents. Afterwards everyone rushed up to me with congratulation and hugs. I knew then and there that being an actress was going to be a lot better than being a cowboy.

  So, having decided that I was going to be an actress, I lost no opportunity to perform in the plays or musical reviews the school produced.

  I was in everything during the regular school year and each summer school. I sang in all the chorus programs, spoke in the Christmas pageant and I gave speeches in class projects. At last I’d found something that I enjoyed and could do well besides my regular schoolwork. Mother had seen me in the sixth grade performance of HMS Pinafore and didn’t come to another school play until my crowning achievement as the old woman in The Mikado at the end of tenth grade. The part was very difficult because it was not only a character role but also supposed to be comedic. I’d done lots of things on stage that got laughs, but not all of them intended. Now I had the challenge of doing a real comedy part and again I was scared to death. Part of me felt like a total fool rushing around the stage with the exaggerated characterization that Mr. Stewart said was required. In addition, I had to manage a black Japanese wig that was about a foot tall and a kimono that was wrapped about me so tightly that I could hardly move, much less breathe. We only rehearsed with the wigs and costumes once, so I was none too sure of myself when performance time arrived. Mr. Stewart had staged a dramatic entrance for my character and from the instant I hit that stage, singing my lungs out in my ridiculous wig, exaggerated movements and funny walk caused by the kimono, the audience never stopped laughing. They laughed so hard and so long that I was sure something dreadful had happened. But I went onward, never skipping a beat and they kept laughing at each new development. After a few moments, I realized that they were laughing with me … not because I was making a fool of myself and I began to ride the wave of that laughter, spontaneously adding little touches that kept the wave from dying away. It was the most totally exhilarating experience I’d ever had. I could almost feel a physical connection between me and the audience and sensed when the laughter would hit again.

  The play was funny anyway and the performance was a huge success. Afterwards, students, parents and faculty members alike went to mother to tell her how much they’d enjoyed my performance. I didn’t know it then, but most of them received a rather icy reception. When I had changed out of my costume and came out into the auditorium to see her, I asked how she liked the play. She said she’d enjoyed it and I had done a good job, even if I did overact a great deal. She said I was going to have to learn more subtlety if I was going to be a professional and most particularly not to use my hands so much. Good actresses didn’t gesticulate any more than absolutely necessary.

  I forgot to ask her if she’d laughed like everyone else because I was crushed by her criticism. I hardly heard the rest of the people who came up to congratulate me and tell me how terrific I’d been. Mother’s stinging criticism even blinded me to the fact that she was being cold to my friends and their parents who came over to introduce themselves. She announced that she had to leave immediately or she’d be late for her appointment. I kissed her on the cheek and she drove away. I was heartbroken. Only a few minutes before I’d been on top of the world, thinking that I’d done a wonderful job. But I guess I should have known, because it was rather like my report cards. Instead of congratulating me on getting nearly straight A’s, she only questioned why there were any B’s at all. I never got anything lower than that but I didn’t get many rewards for my good grades anyway.

  Fortunately, everyone else loved the show and in a few hours I’d gotten so many compliments that the pain of mother’s reaction was dissipated.

  Mother gave me a surprise party for my 15th birthday. She’d invited my boyfriend, Hank, who lived in San Mateo, to stay at our house for two days just to be sure he’d be able to attend. We had dinner at Mocambo’s night club with two of my school friends. She’d also invited Jennings Lang and his wife. They lived just down the block from us and Jennings was one of her agents from MCA. Joe E. Louis was the headliner and his show was hilarious. Because we were all there at a ringside table, he made a lot of references to mother and my birthday. There was a beautiful birthday cake with 15 candles and the entire club sang “Happy Birthday” to me. Somehow mother had also arranged for us to have champagne, even though my friends and I were all under age. We had a wonderful time laughing at the show and then dancing until nearly midnight to the songs we requested from the band. It was a perfect birthday. Nothing in the world could have indicated to a casual acquaintance that there was a problem in the world for our family. Mother was gracious and beautiful. She had the photographers take lots of pictures and was the most charming hostess you could imagine. I was thrilled and totally delighted by her affectionate attention and the fact that she’d planned everything so considerately.

  The few weeks I was home went better than ever before. Mother gave a large party and asked me to be her co-hostess. She’d gotten me a very pretty dress for the occasion and I was excited about being included.

  Since it was summertime, the party was being held outdoors in the garden. Abbey Rents came in the afternoon before and started setting up a large tent canopy that covered the whole back lawn. A large portable dance floor was constructed over the badminton court. Then the day of the party, the trucks came with the tables, chairs, the portable bar and buffet tables and all the table settings including dishes, glasses and silverware. About two o’clock, the florist truck arrived and the individual table arrangements began to line the dance floor, waiting until the tables were set in place. All day long the delivery people scurried back and forth tran
sforming our large back yard into a party paradise. By late afternoon most of the delivery people were gone, only to be replaced by the servants who started arriving dressed in their black and white uniforms. There were several bartenders, maids and butlers and some cooks’ helpers. Some of the food was catered and some was being prepared in our own ample kitchen. The cook was getting nervous by now, but there was, nevertheless, a seemingly endless array of hors d’oeuvres coming out of the ovens and being arranged carefully on trays in the kitchen.

  I’m not exactly sure how many people were invited but there were easily one hundred and fifty who actually arrived.

  I was dressed and ready when the first doorbell rang and was delegated to greet the early arrivals. Mother, as usual, was not finished dressing and the first guests were shown upstairs.

  I had a great time helping with the drinks and chattering with our friends. There were a lot of my favorite people at the party and they were always very nice to me. The first half-hour was a little slow, but as if by magic, the people then began to pour into our house and out into the garden in a steady stream. There were now far too many people to meet each one individually, so I just went around looking to see if anyone had empty glasses and took drink orders as I’d been told to do.

  In the process I met just about everyone. The MCA group was there and I had known Lew Wasserman and Jennings Lang for years. They were not just mother’s agents, they were included in most of the social events around our house. Kay Spreckles, who later became Mrs. Clark Gable, was just in from Texas. She loved parties and had a delightful way of telling off-color jokes while remaining every inch a lady. Some of the Sudden Fear cast showed up, among them Touch Conners who was a young, handsome actor just getting his first breaks in the business and hadn’t yet changed his name to Michael Conners. My “date” for the evening was a family friend, the man who wrote Spiral Staircase among others, Mel Dinelli. Mel was a darling, kind man of whom I was very fond. Mel helped me through many a difficult social situation while I was growing up by being considerate enough to really talk to me and answer many of my naive questions concerning what was going on around me. He was in no way a father figure and too many years my senior to even remotely be a romantic interest. He was just a dear man and a kind friend who was for many years a talented screen-writer. Mel also saved me from being a wallflower because he would always ask me to dance and I was free to say yes or no as I desired.

  Later that evening Judy Garland arrived with her husband, Sid Luft. Judy was noticeably pregnant at the time and dressed in something that looked like a printed tent. Mother didn’t like Sid Luft for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that she privately blamed him for Judy’s drug problem. Other than that, she just didn’t like him as a person. Judy was a definite attraction at a Hollywood party because later on in the evening after everyone was feeling mellow if not drunk, Judy could usually be persuaded to sing for a while. That was a feather in any hostess’ cap and would be talked about for weeks both in the columns and at other local show biz gatherings.

  After dinner and dancing, mother told me it was time for me to go to bed. I was reluctant to leave the festivities just when they were really starting to get rolling, but I was also tired. I said good night to the people I knew best and left.

  After I’d gotten ready for bed I went into mother’s sleeping porch and sat down in front of the window overlooking the garden. I turned out the lights so no one could see me and sat there for at least an hour watching the individual people mingle and dance and kiss. I knew that a large number of the guests were well on their way to getting drunk and for some perverse reason I enjoyed watching the changes that took place in people when they were drunk. I learned a lot about people that way. I also got a lot of unexpected information about how people really thought when their guard was down. Since I was not considered an adult yet, I guess most of mother’s friends thought I was too young to understand most of it anyway.

  Sure enough, after about an hour sitting in the dark and looking out the window at the lights and the people and listening to the music, someone in the garden persuaded Judy Garland to sing. The band had microphones, so I had no trouble hearing clear as a bell from my second story hideout. She sang Over the Rainbow and followed that with almost the full repertoire of Garland favorites. It was magical sitting in the dark watching her and listening to the familiar songs. She sang for quite a while and when she was finished the entire party gave her a standing ovation. I applauded too, even though I knew she couldn’t hear it. A few days later, I heard mother say that the party cost over $5,000.

  The rest of that summer passed quickly. After summer school, I went up to Douglas Camp again but this time it was as a junior counselor. I worked for two weeks on a pack trip through the mountains and down to the ocean. My love of riding and horses and camping had not diminished a bit so it was an enjoyable experience.

  CHAPTER 16

  When school started again, I was still on scholarship and still living at the Chadwick’s house. Mother was not able to pay our full tuition this year either.

  During the past year I had finally become a totally accepted part of school life. I had also joined the swimming team. Initially I joined because I detested field hockey and softball. The swim team had meets all year long and the members didn’t have to participate in the other seasonal sports programs. I’d always liked swimming and was good enough to qualify. We had a new gym teacher named Nicki. She was intent on expanding the team’s competitiveness and entering us in more meets than in previous years. Chadwick was her first full time teaching job after graduating from UCLA and she was only 10 years older than me when we first met.

  If I’d had any inkling that we’d have to work so hard on the team, I probably would have put up with softball practice instead. In addition to regular gym class practice, the members of the team had to swim an extra two hours every afternoon. First we had to swim against the stopwatch to try and improve our speed and then we had to swim laps to increase our stamina. There were many afternoons I didn’t have enough strength left to walk out of the pool at the end of practice and would flop myself on the deck totally exhausted. As tough a coach as Nicki was, she was just as understanding as a friend. She saw very quickly that my biggest problem was my own self-confidence. I had none. Nor did I have an overabundance of patience. Between those two shortcomings lay most of my defeats. Nicki worked with me for hours, pushing and prodding and yelling and forcing me back into the pool each time I was ready to give up. There were times when I was seriously on the verge of quitting, but I knew it was too late. There was nothing I could do but grumble and work harder.

  The first meet we went to, everyone on the team was scared. Everything was so formal with roped off lanes and officials. The start of each race was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop before the gun went off and all hell broke loose. Once in the water, you could hardly hear the yelling and screaming but you swan for all you were worth. I came in second in the backstroke and did a lot better than I thought I would in the medley.

  After that first meet, I worked like a demon with Nicki on my tail every minute. She was relentless and her encouragement knew no bounds. She did whatever she had to do to keep me going. She praised and goaded and yelled and joked. She was wonderful.

  The next swim meet a phenomenal thing happened in my life. I won the 50-yard event. I won the race by the distance of one hand … mine hit a tenth of a second sooner, but that was all it took. I didn’t realize I’d won at first because I was still trying to catch my breath. But in an instant Nicki was kneeling on the deck above me laughing and crying at the same time. “Tina!!! You won!!!” She was hugging me and getting soaked and I could hardly believe it. Then the announcement came over the loudspeaker: “First place … Crawford … lane three … Chadwick.” The times and other places were announced and the score was entered on the big board. Chadwick was now ahead in the meet because of my race. I was elated. I’d won! I’d worked and worked and
now I’d actually won. It was one of the greatest days of my life. Nicki and I have been friends ever since. Over all the years that have passed in between then and now, the lessons she taught me have never stopped helping me. She was the first person that took the time and cared enough to help me learn how to win and I’ve never forgotten it.

  Of course, I joined the swim team again in eleventh grade. But this year I also wanted to be a cheerleader. Everything was going extremely well for me at school. My grades were better than they’d ever been thanks to the steady competition of Jim Fadiman and the encouragement of our homeroom teacher Bob Martin.

  Bob was a fiery teacher who not only encouraged us to think independently but insisted that we do so if we wanted to get top marks. His classes were more like running debates on the merits of any given idea rather than authoritarian dictates on the theory of right and wrong. Originality, inquisitiveness and hard work were combined into exciting classes and we all loved him. He needled us and disciplined us and even Jim Fadiman’s lightening quick mind was challenged. Bob was also a young teacher and had the energy to match his own enthusiasm.

  Mrs. Chadwick was sure I’d be able to get into whatever college I wanted because of my outstanding scholastic record, the very high scores on the IQ tests and the fact that I was well prepared for the upcoming college entrance exam. She was also very pleased with the rest of my conduct. I’d managed to stay completely clear of any trouble either at school or home for months and months. We were both convinced that it would be clear sailing from here on out. I’m sure also that she felt a sense of relief after the stormy years we’d had together. I’d been at Chadwick nearly five years now and even though the unpaid tuition was beginning to amount to a sizeable debt, Mrs. Chadwick assured me that she would let me finish out high school even if I had to go on a total scholarship. I was really touched by her generosity and concern for my well being. She and Commander and the school had become my home. I had struggled a long time for a place and a sense of belonging there. In fact, I was becoming a model student in every respect and one that would be a credit to the school itself.