The Life and Times of Mickey Rooney

by Richard A. Lertzman

  A Family Affair, like Skidding, starts with Judge Hardy facing political problems at work and family problems at home. Powerful men in town are upset with his judicial decisions, which run contrary to their interests, and want to see him impeached. His daughters, Joan and Marion, have romantic problems; and his son, Andy, discovers Polly Benedict in his first burst of adolescent love. As in the stage play, the world of Judge Hardy, both in the courthouse and in his drawing room, is skidding out from under him, caught in the riptide of a changing culture. Firm but benevolent, Judge Hardy envelops everyone in the family with his concern, even as he contends with political influences that seek to undermine his steadfast reliance upon the sanctity of justice. In the process of coming to terms with his reality, he lends wisdom and calmness to all.

  This first film sets up the central relationship between Andy and his father (played by the crusty Lionel Barrymore), a man of absolute moral integrity with a stern demeanor but a droll sense of humor. Andy strains against the reins as he feels his oats, but his father reaffirms the boundaries. This film sets the pattern for the typical plot of the next sixteen Andy Hardy films, which would involve Andy getting into minor trouble with money or girls, usually because of a youthful lack of impulse control and a willingness to fudge the truth. This would invariably lead to a man-to-man talk with his father, an establishment of shared values amid an array of disruptive influencers, after which Andy would do the right thing.

  This first film is different from the subsequent Andy Hardy films in tone and subject matter because of its political undertone. As Judge Hardy, Lionel Barrymore must fight off some higher-ranked city politicians who want to blackmail him into approving a plant coming to town. They plan on using a scandal involving his daughter Joan, played by Julie Haydon; while his other daughter, played by Cecilia Parker, strikes up a relationship with a new man. How will Judge Hardy navigate the shoals of political Scylla and domestic Charybdis? It is via his come-to-Jesus interaction with Andy that the absolute necessity of honesty comes shining through. This is the intersection of Skidding and A Family Affair.

  The film was shot in just seventeen days, February 3–20, 1937, at a cost of only $190,000 (coming in $7,000 under budget). It was released just twenty days later, on March 12, 1937, and was a profit windfall for Metro.

  To Mickey, A Family Affair was just another film and seventeen days’ worth of yeoman’s work. He was not aware of the significance that this “programmer” would have on his career. At the time, he was looking forward to, according to Elizabeth Yeaman of the Hollywood Citizens-News “receiving his high school diploma from the MGM school, and he will enroll in UCLA. When Mickey starts to college the studio will have to start giving him grown-up roles . . .” This blurb, most likely created by Metro’s Howard Strickling, paints the picture of a typical adolescent boy at seventeen, graduating from high school and hoping to start college. Mickey’s life was far from that. He was followed around by Sylvester, his African American valet, who did his bidding; he drove an expensive car; and he supported his mother and her new husband, Fred Pankey. Mickey was now a breadwinner in his own right. If there was ever a moment of childhood bliss, the bubble of innocence that young children enjoy before the harshness of adult life presents them with Hobson’s choices, Mickey never remembered it. He was a working actor whose roles defined his reality.

  A Family Affair was not highly publicized because very little expense went into its promotion. A film had to cost in the high six figures before it received the big push from Strickling. MGM did not expect the film to gross more than three hundred thousand dollars. Such projections were based on the cast, who, except for a star like Barrymore, rated only a line on the marquee. However, this little “programmer” hit box office gold. Though it received just fair reviews, it grossed nearly half a million in its first few weeks and soared to over a million, in Depression-era dollars, by the end of the year.

  The expectations were low. As Frank Nugent of the New York Times wrote on April 20, 1937:

  Lionel Barrymore wears the mantle of justice and a crown of thorns with his usual patience . . . as the dutiful Judge Hardy whose restraining order has checked the construction of the Carvel (Idaho) aqueduct, turned the town against him and even has begun to alienate the affections of his family . . . Mr. Barrymore knows how to handle those things, and so do the other members of the cast. Spring Byington invariably is a model of wifely and motherly understanding. Mickey Rooney is the epitome of all 14 year olds who hate girls until they see a pretty one in a party dress. Julie Haydon, who can do better things, weeps convincingly as the troubled married daughter. Cecilia Parker and Eric Linden are Young Love in its usual form. They have all taken their “Family Affair” rather seriously and although it was not that important, we rather enjoyed eavesdropping at Judge Hardy’s home.

  The Daily Variety, on April 21, 1937, thought so little of A Family Affair that it consigned its “favorable” criticism to its “Miniature Review” department, which made no mention of Mickey. The Chicago Tribune of April 22, 1937, disliked the film and called it “a boob trap” that failed to work. The Film Daily on April 22, 1937, wrote, “Swell domestic comedy-drama with glove-fitting cast that is a natural for the family trade . . . Mickey Rooney does a grand job as the adolescent and gets most of comedic business and handles it with a telling effect . . . George Seitz’s direction is very good . . . the interest in the film is the fine sentiments and the homey touches centering around the home life of the Judge’s family.”

  However, when the film opened, moviegoers spoke loud and clear at the box office. City after city, town after town, reported that the cash customers were going “wild over the Hardy picture.” There were many repeat customers, which was a rare occurrence for a film that was basically a family drawing room comedy with no physical action sequences.

  When the bottom-line-minded Mayer saw the box office figures for the film, he took notice. He was still preoccupied with Thalberg’s death, and how the production departments of the studio would be managed. However, what may have gotten L.B. to sit up was a wire he received from a Rochester, New York, motion picture exhibitor:

  FOR GOD’S SAKE, LET’S HAVE MORE OF THAT ROONEY KID. STOP. HE REALLY WOWED THEM. STOP. THE WAY HE TRIPPED OVER THE DOORMAT AND LOOKED INTO THE EYES OF THAT POLLY BENEDICT GIRL. THAT WAS REALLY SOMETHING. STOP. THE KID’S A GOLDMINE. STOP. SO IS THE REST OF THE CAST. STOP. PLEASE MAKE ANOTHER HARDY PICTURE RIGHT AWAY.14

  Mayer, it was speculated, didn’t want to make another Hardy picture right away. Rooney wrote in Life Is Too Short, “During the spring of 1937, I am told, many a conference was held in Mr. Mayer’s white carpeted office to figure out what to do about ‘the Hardy problem.’ If the fans were turned on by little Andy Hardy and his little-boy romance with Polly Benedict, then maybe they were tired of the romantic leads. Maybe this was a trend that would depreciate MGM’s investment in its Gables and its Tracys and its Taylors. That could be a disaster.”15 Eddie Mannix told Mayer, “Let’s make another Hardy family picture. If it flops we will be rid of the headache. And if it clicks, then we’ll damn well know that the thing is a trend and that they want more of this Hardy family crap.”16

  Historically, sequels were not looked on as a good investment, but Mayer decided to hedge his bets with this follow-up film—actually a series of lower-budget pictures, with this second film set to launch the series. The script, developed by writer Kay Van Riper, was originally titled A Family Vacation or Second Family Affair, before the studio settled on You’re Only Young Once.

  When they decided to make a sequel, George Seitz, Kay Van Riper, and Hugo Butler were not available. Sam Marx had left temporarily to work with Sam Goldwyn; Lucien Hubbard had left to open a dude ranch in Palm Springs. Eventually, a story written by Kay Van Riper was used for the sequel’s screenplay, which was written by veteran Carey Wilson. George Seitz’s schedule was rearranged so he could direct again. You’re Only Young Once was rushed into production so that the studio
could preserve the momentum from the first Andy Hardy movie.

  As for the on-screen talent, Mayer had wanted Barrymore to continue as Judge Hardy. Yet Barrymore, a member of theatrical royalty, was said to have bristled at the notion not only of doing a B picture at that point, but at getting stuck in a B series (even though he did later get stuck in the role of Dr. Gillespie, opposite Lew Ayres, in the Dr. Kildare series. He told Mayer that he would continue as the Judge in future entries if the studio tore up his current contract and, say, doubled his salary. Barrymore was also annoyed by the scene-stealing Mickey, to the point where he had told Sam Marx that he had “developed homicidal tendencies toward the kid [Rooney]” during filming. Mayer decided that he didn’t really need Barrymore for the part. It was that young “whippersnapper” Rooney who sold the pictures. He was the star.17

  Mayer selected his close friend veteran character actor Lewis Stone as the new Judge Hardy. Stone was a courtly New Englander who had the presence of a Judge. In another cost-cutting measure, Mayer also recast Fay Holden to replace Spring Byington as Mrs. Hardy. Byington wanted too much money, and L.B. wanted to keep his costs as low as possible on this sequel. Cecilia Parker would continue as Marian, Sara Haden as the spinster Aunt Milly; but Ann Rutherford, a young starlet from Canada, would become the new Polly Benedict. Rutherford knew Mickey all too well from Metro’s Little Red Schoolhouse. He had been harassing her for the last couple of years—following her, pulling her hair, and even shooting spitballs in her face. “I actually was rather upset at being cast opposite Mickey, but I knew this could be an important role for me,” Rutherford recalled.18

  With the changes in cast and the replacement of Butler with Carey Wilson, the tone of the film changed. Barrymore had been a bit harsher than Lewis Stone, who inherited the role. The subject matter was also darker in the original, with the discussion of a scandal and even a brief mention of suicide. Also, the small-town flavor of Carvel, an America before the Fall, that we see in the later films just doesn’t ring true, because the city is full of some harsh people who will sink to the bottom in terms of blackmail and nefariously ugly dealings. Also, the characters are not as well drawn when the series hits its stride in later films. The rest of the cast is clearly trying to find what they want to do with their characters.

  Still, the template for the Andy Hardy sequels is set in A Family Affair. As author and film historian James Robert Parish points out in The Great Movie Series (and told us in our interview), “Despite the Metro screenwriters shipping the Hardys frequently outside of Carvel’s town limits to other destinations, the folksy influence was always there. At the slightest infractions of social norms, Judge Hardy would be ready with his fatherly talks and Andy, gulping in silent confusion and realization of his errors, would be a reformed boy-man. The fact that Rooney was twenty plus in many of the films and was portraying a teenager bothered audiences little.”

  You’re Only Young Once was another low-budget B movie: It came in under $190,000, had a quick shooting schedule of two and a half weeks, and was slated as the second half of a double bill. However, in some ways the film is more lavish than most studio pictures. Its simple tale of a small-town family trying to get through their summer vacation in one piece perfectly melded the elements of high-spirited youth and parental wisdom that would make the Hardy films so successful. The sets from A Family Affair had been left standing, since there was only a few weeks’ break between the shooting of that film and that of its sequel.

  A large portion of the story line here is with sister Marian, who falls in love with a lifeguard who turns out to be married, a situation exposed by her older and wiser parents. Such beloved series elements as Andy Hardy’s foolishness and the Judge’s wise counsel and ability to get his children out of sticky situations had already been established. As was the tendency to showcase the younger actresses cast opposite Rooney. This time out, Andy’s love interest is Eleanor Lynn as a spoiled rich girl who tries to lead Andy into the fast life. (Unlike such later Rooney leading ladies as Judy Garland, Lana Turner, and Esther Williams, Lynn did not move on to stardom.)

  Mayer now had a personal interest in the Hardy films. He watched the rushes with keen interest. His growing enthusiasm for the subsequent Hardy films almost became a personal crusade for him. He would sit through previews next to Carey Wilson, the veteran producer-writer, in order to transmit his criticisms directly. After a scene in which Andy Hardy refused to eat, to indicate how lovesick he was, Mayer went into a rage: “Don’t you know a boy of sixteen is hungry all the time?” he screamed. “You tell me you were brought up in a good American home—in the kitchen! You lied to me! You’ve let Andy insult his mother! No boy would tell his mother he wasn’t hungry!”19 Then Mayer told Wilson exactly how to rewrite the scene.

  Before production even began on this second film, Mayer and Mannix had committed to turning out more pictures in the series. Van Riper started on the next film, Judge Hardy’s Children (1938) as soon as location shooting for You’re Only Young Once started on Catalina Island. The promise was sealed when at the end of the film, Lewis Stone, in a spoken epilogue, alludes to more Hardy films in the future. The studio’s faith was well founded. The first true Hardy film grossed well over two million, and most of that was pure profit. For the next two years, MGM would turn out a new Hardy film roughly every three months. The production team (including producer J. J. Cohn, director George B. Seitz, and Van Riper) would remain mostly intact through the remaining thirteen films in the series, most of them more popular than the big-budget pictures they had been designed to support.

  Unlike with A Family Affair, the reviews for You’re Only Young Once were mostly positive. On November 22, 1937, the staid New York Times, which usually disliked family films, raved about You’re Only Young Once, remarking, “The average American family (if, indeed there is such a thing) has been so frequently libeled by the average program film it is a surprising experience and occasion for a relief to come upon. ‘You’re Only Young Once’ . . . Here, at least, is a ‘series’ family (for that is what MGM intends it to be) in which individual members react like human beings instead of like third-rate vaudevillians . . . best of all is Mickey Rooney the gosling son.”

  The reviews greatly pleased Mayer, who loved the films and Stone’s portrayal of the perfect American father so much that he guaranteed the actor a position at the studio for the rest of his life. Mayer looked upon every aspect of this series as his crowning glory. The Academy agreed. In 1941, MGM even landed a special Oscar in recognition of the series’ “achievement in representing the American way of life” according to the presentation speech. It was the only film series of Hollywood’s golden age to be honored like that.

  Mayer was pleased on several levels at the potential benefits of the series for the studio. First, he was sitting on a gold mine in which MGM would take very little risk for a huge return. The second film returned more than ten times its initial investment. The upside was unlimited. Second, he would be able to use these vehicles to showcase young talent and build his roster of actors from within. Third, and possibly the key element, was that the series would allow L.B. to promote his vision of the all-American family. It would garner him the respect he craved as the son of a Jewish junk peddler from Minsk, his ultimate assimilation into American life. He would influence how families raised their children, solved their problems, and pursued their aspirations.

  Mayer was in a unique position in that he had the power to influence how people lived their lives. Motion pictures were at their peak then, and never in the history of civilization had there been a tool as powerful as the cinema. Mayer himself said, in the October 1937 issue of Photoplay, “Hollywood brings the world to the United States and the United States to the world. This interchange—of writing brains, talent, music, tradition—is important to world peace. It is equally important to good entertainment which knows no geography and has no international boundary lines.” (Mayer’s most salient quotes, including this one, also appear i
n his minibiography on the Internet Movie Database: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0562454/bio#quotes.)

  The studio moguls, Mayer included, had little respect for the intelligence of the audiences they wanted to reach. Adolph Zukor, head of Paramount, which was the largest producer, distributor, and exhibitor of films in the world, was once heard to remark that the average moviegoer intelligence is that of a fourteen-year-old child. Therefore, movies that appealed to that demographic succeeded mightily, particularly the Andy Hardy series.

  Until Andy Hardy, there had never been films that appealed directly to adolescent and teen moviegoers. The Hardy films, however—though Mayer and his executives did not realize this at first—played to that fourteen-year-old child, opening up a huge new audience for cinema to target: teens. Initially, Mayer and Mannix panicked over how this new trend might affect their existing star system, which appealed to older audiences. They needn’t have worried. MGM could now target both the adult and teen audiences with vehicles aimed directly at those segments. On one level, the adults who were attracted to the Hardy family values were the prototype for what followed in television, family comedies that adults liked as much as their children. Yet, decades before these television family comedies, teens flocked to movie houses to see Andy Hardy and his dating dilemmas, how he and his friends dressed, and what music they listened to. Mayer and Mannix were wrong: This was not a trend; it was an entirely new market to target.

  In a New York Times column from April 9, 2000, titled, “The Triumph of Burbopolis,” writer Michael Pollan comments on the Hardy phenomenon: the Hardy’s effect, and that of their television progeny, on many families’ lives. He called it “Cleaverism,” an idealized projection of suburban life that became, in his words, “the sitcom image of suburbia.” As in the Hardy series during the Great Depression, the idealistic image of family life in the suburbs in the decade after World War II was just that, an ideal—yet more for parents than for their children, whose rejection of that ideal helped define the baby boomer 1960s. Yet, back in the 1930s, as Bill Clinton said about his parents, audiences looked to the Hardys as their ideal.