In that one precious moment, one following another and another, when he picked up his makeup bag, donned his latest wardrobe, walked out onto a set or a stage, Mickey was more alive than anyone could imagine. He knew, knew better than any of us, who he was, what he was, but most important, why he was.
How many of us experience that moment of pure, shining truth? Mickey did. But only in front of a camera or before an audience.
Even as he gambled, drank, and tossed away his life offstage, it mattered not, because his life was onstage. That was the real Mickey Rooney. That was the only thing that counted. That’s what he lived for: making an audience laugh, applaud, and leave a theater happy. What a mitzvah, making people happy.
Struggling for breath in his last moments of life, what visions might have penetrated his dreams?
The raucous laughter of an audience of men, as scantily clad women dance across a stage . . .
An end pony so delightfully cute that the men in the orchestra fall hopelessly in love . . .
A comic falling flat on his face after tripping over something that isn’t there . . .
The snap of a slate before a director calls, “Action” . . .
The downbeat of the bandleader as a duet begins their song . . .
Look, there’s Polly Benedict, smiling at you for the very first time . . .
The camera lens moves in for a close-up. It’s big. It’s enveloping. It embraces you.
It swallows you with its love into its fathomless maw.
It absorbs your very being.
You’re free.
The tally light comes on.
It’s all good.
Afterword by Paul Petersen
The Mick” came to my house unbidden in the spring of 1969. He didn’t have to introduce himself. There he was, the prototypical child star, puffed up with self-importance, wearing a gold Nehru shirt complete with a peace medallion, pushing past me without my leave to take command of my flood-damaged living room.
Mickey Rooney was all that my mother had wished on me, aided by the fact that the Mick and I were born on the same day, twenty-five years apart. He could sing, he could dance, he could act, and so could I. My career was over, but I didn’t know it. He understood. He’d been there.
He was a Hollywood Star of the First Order. As he took control of my ravaged home, I was speechless. He had a message to deliver to me, and I was stunned into silence even as a stream of motion picture images were awash in my mind. What was Mickey Rooney doing in the home I would shortly lose to foreclosure?
“I’ve been through this,” he told me, taking up residency on a muddied couch. “Sit down and shut up,” he ordered, clearly aware that I was friends with his sons Mickey Jr. and Timothy. It’s hard for me to describe the indelible intensity of this undersize Film Giant. He was on a mission, former kid star to former kid star, although I didn’t know I was already a has-been.
“Hollywood is done with you,” he said, an earnest gaze locked on my eyes. “You have to get out of town, get your education, and maybe . . . maybe they’ll let you work again in twenty-five years.” And then he was gone, message delivered.
Do you have any idea what it feels like to be a bug trapped in amber? Look at your life at nineteen, and then freeze it. Nothing you do can diminish the impact and permanence of the images you unknowingly created in your youth. That’s what the Mick had to deal with. He was a young man consigned to the scrap heap of history and he was only twenty-one, but his talent, experience, and value as a performing commodity were undiminished. This was universally important—except in Hollywood. Imagine your life when you’re considered “old news” and discountable from age twenty-five to forty, most people’s most productive epoch!
The Mickey Rooney I revere broke faith with his sons, both of whom I remained close to over the decades that followed. Timothy died of a muscular disease, unvisited by his father; Mickey Jr. is a hermit in Hemet. Mickey Rooney didn’t visit them, support them emotionally or financially, and remained silent on his relationship with them. He is, without qualification, a failure as a father—and a human being. I continue to hold this view against his memory, without apology.
But as a former kid star, shielded from personal ruin by Mickey Rooney’s advice, I want to testify on behalf of the Mick’s legacy. He was always talented, man and boy. His artistic contributions to the history of film are beyond criticism.
So, why was he such an unpleasant man? As I told his long-suffering wife Jan, “Damaged goods.”
Remember what he said when he received the Emmy for Bill, that wonderful television movie? “When I was nineteen and twenty,” he said, “I was the most popular film star in the world, but when I was forty, you wouldn’t give me a job.”
Do you think that doesn’t hurt? Do you think Mickey Rooney wasn’t affected by this reality? Eight marriages, kids he didn’t raise, a career that didn’t continue smoothly—it all crafted the aging man.
I am grateful that I grew up without the need for continual industry attention and public reverence. And that’s thanks to Mickey Rooney’s intervention in my life. Oh, how I wish he’d listened to his own advice.
Paul Peterson was a Mouseketeer, along with Rooney’s sons Mickey Jr. and Timmy, and then went on to costar in The Donna Reed Show. He heads up the child star advocacy and support group A Minor Consideration.
Sonny Yule at two years old in the burlesque days.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Sonny Yule with Tom Mix in My Pal, the King in 1932.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MIKE COOGAN.
Sonny Yule and Coleen Moore in Orchids and Ermine (1927).
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey McGuire’s broadcasting station. Mickey “Himself” McGuire with his “Gang” (1931).
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Advertisement for the Mickey McGuire films.
PHOTO COURTESY OF G. D. HAMANN.
Mickey (right) with McGuire costars Delia (“Tomboy Taylor”) Bogard (center) and Marvin (“Katrink”) Stephens (right).
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Babes in Arms publicity photo with Mickey and Judy.
This MGM artwork appeared in the New York Daily News on October 29, 1939, to promote Babes in Arms (1939).
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONICA KLAUS.
Mickey with the great Will Rogers—months before Rogers’s death—in The County Chairman in 1935.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey and Carmen Miranda in Babes on Broadway.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Mickey and Judy in the backyard musical Babes in Arms.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Mickey and Judy in politically incorrect blackface for the minstrel number in Babes on Broadway (1941). Mickey also did a minstrel number in Babes in Arms.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey and Busby Berkeley.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
A happier time on the set of Babes on Broadway. Director Busby Berkeley, Louis B. Mayer, Mickey, and Judy Garland.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Roger Imhof, Mickey, and Jean Harlow (a year before her death) in Riffraff (1936).
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Mickey and Lana Turner during his Andy Hardy days.
COURTESY OF RICK LERTZMAN.
Cartoon of Mickey and Judy.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey and Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet (1944).
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Postcard of the Hardy family in Blonde Trouble.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Joe Yule and Mickey in Judge Hardy and Son (1939).
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Christmas at Judy’s (1934).
PHOTO COURTESY G. D. HAMMAN.
Mickey and Judy in 1963, at the time of her TV show.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT FINKEL.<
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Mickey and Judy in the early 1960s.
PHOTO COURTESY OF G. D. HAMANN.
Friendship bracelet given by Judy to Mickey, inscribed “Mike” and “Jootes.”
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Back of friendship bracelet, with inscription from “Jootes” to “Mike.”
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Eleanor Roosevelt being greeted by Mickey Rooney, who entertained guests attending the inauguration gala in Constitution Hall in 1941. Next to Rooney is Charlie Chaplin. Behind the First Lady is her daughter, Anna Roosevelt. Behind Rooney is John Roosevelt.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Greer Garson, Eddie Cantor, and Mickey Rooney at the piano.
PHOTO COURTESY OF RICK LERTZMAN.
An amazing photograph at a historic event in Berlin on May 21, 1945, that honored Russian Marshal Konev. From left to right: legendary violinist Jascha Heifetz, Marshal Konev, General Omar Bradley, and Private Mickey Rooney.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Mickey in 1944 with Patton’s Army, performing for the soldiers on the battlefield in Germany as part of the Jeep shows.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Marilyn Monroe with Mickey along with Art Aragon (right) and Dale Robertson (left) at the Hollywood Entertainers Baseball Game in 1952.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT FINKEL.
Judy’s and Mickey’s Moms. From left to right: Ethel Marion Milne Gumm, Judy, Mickey, “Ma” Nell.
PHOTO COURTESY OF G. D. HAMANN.
Mickey and Mickey Jr.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Timmy Rooney (left) at age fifteen with stepbrother Dan Kessel, age eleven.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The Fabulous Rooney Brothers at Columbia Recording Studios. From left to right: Timmy, Mickey Jr., and Teddy.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Timmy, Mickey, and Mickey Jr.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Stanley Kramer’s It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World with (from left to right) Dorothy Provine, Sid Caesar, Jonathan Winters, Ethel Merman, Milton Berle, Mickey Rooney, and Buddy Hackett.
PHOTO COURTESY OF KAREN KRAMER.
Teddy sitting on Mickey’s lap, from Andy Hardy Comes Home (1958).
PHOTO COURTESY OF PAM MCCLENATHAN.
Mamie Van Doren and Mickey as the Devil in The Private Lives of Adam and Eve (1960).
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROCKY KALISH.
Mickey and Margaret O’Brien in the last scene of his film career in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde directed by Brian Barsuglia, released October 2015. Ms. O’Brien noted that she appeared in her first film with Mickey and she was in his last.
PHOTO COURTESY OF BRIAN BARSUGLIA.
Ann Miller and Mickey in Sugar Babies (1981).
COURTESY OF JAMES CARDILLO.
Mickey backstage in Sugar Babies with costar Ann Miller and Michael Jackson.
PHOTO COURTESY OF JAMES CARDILLO.
Mickey in a poster from Sugar Babies in 1980.
POSTER COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey in drag with Ann Miller in Sugar Babies.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey greets the first family backstage at Sugar Babies. From left to right: Ann Miller, First Lady Nancy Reagan, President Reagan, and Mickey.
PHOTO COURTESY OF JAMES TEWKSBURY.
Mickey in the 1940s.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Rare PR photo of the guest stars of Four Star Productions’ The Dick Powell Show for the episode “Who Killed Julie Greer?” Standing, from left: Ronald Reagan, Nick Adams, Lloyd Bridges, Mickey Rooney, Edgar Bergen, Jack Carson, Ralph Bellamy, Kay Thompson, and Dean Jones. Seated: Carolyn Jones and Dick Powell.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
One of the Boys with Dana Carvey (left), Nathan Lane (center), and Mickey.
PHOTO COURTESY OF BERNIE ORENSTEIN.
Mickey, at age eighty-four, in a 2005 Super Bowl ad for Airborne cold remedy that was banned by Fox when Mickey bared his behind in the commercial.
PHOTO COURTESY OF CODY KLEIN.
Mickey and Jan greet Queen Elizabeth II.
PHOTO COURTESY OF RONNA RILEY.
Mickey’s ninetieth birthday party at Feinstein’s in New York with Tony Bennett, Melania and Donald Trump, Michael Feinstein, Regis and Joy Philbin, Jan and Mickey Rooney (center), and Arlene Dahl.
PHOTO COURTESY OF FEINSTEIN’S NY.
Ava Gardner. PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
THE EIGHT WIVES OF MICKEY ROONEY
Ava Gardner.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Betty Jane Rase.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Martha Vickers.
PHOTO COURTESY OF PAM MACCLENATHAN.
Elaine Mahnken.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MELODY DOFF.
Barbara Ann Thomason.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Marge Lane.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MELODY DOFF.
Carolyn Hockett.
PHOTO COURTESY OF EDDIE BRACKEN.
Jan Chamberlin and Mickey.
PHOTO COURTESY OF CHRIS ABER.
Last photo of Mickey and Jan.
PHOTO COURTESY OF CHRIS ABER.
Betty Jane and the children (Mickey Jr. and Timmy).
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE DAN KESSEL COLLECTION, © DAN KESSEL PRODUCTIONS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Mickey, “Ma” Nell, and Ava Gardner at their wedding on January 10, 1942.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MONTE KLAUS.
Mickey and Betty Jane’s wedding.
PHOTO COURTESY OF ROBERT EASTON.
Kerry Mack (left), Mickey, and Kelly Rooney (right)
PHOTO COURTESY OF KELLY ROONEY.
Kelly, Kerry, and Michael Rooney are escorted by manager Aaron “Red” Doff away from their home where their mother, Barbara Ann Rooney, was murdered on January 30, 1966.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MELODY DOFF.
Mickey is supported by his manager Red Doff (left), sons Timmy (behind Doff), Teddy (obscured), and Mickey Jr. (behind Mickey) at his wife Barbara Ann’s funeral.
PHOTO COURTESY OF MELODY DOFF.
Mickey with Kerry and Kelly as adults. The last photo taken of Kelly and Kerry with their father.
PHOTO COURTESY OF KELLY ROONEY.
Mickey and Dan Beatty on set of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one of the last photos of Mickey.
PHOTO COURTESY OF BRIAN BARSUGLIA.
The Rooney family at the dedication of Mickey’s second star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame on April 26, 2004. This star reads “Mickey and Jan Rooney.”
PHOTO COURTESY OF KELLY ROONEY.
Acknowledgments
Telling this monumental story of Mickey’s life, which is as much a part of American history as it is a biography, was a challenge, and it began over twenty years ago, when we were researching a story on Dr. Feelgood and Mickey Rooney was one of our ongoing sources for some of the most scurrilous goings-on in Hollywood. (He would know. He was the victim of some of them.) When we arranged for a series of lunches with Mickey Rooney in 2007–8 and a few phone conversations in 2009 and 2010, it sparked the idea of writing a historically correct biography of him, one not tainted by gossip column hype.
Each of our meetings with him followed a similar pattern. He would tell us stories and answer some of our questions. However, each time we asked similar questions, we received dissimilar answers. The lunches were interesting. One was at the Santa Anita Racetrack clubhouse, in between Mickey’s trips to the stables to pick
up tips on the horses and jockeys. He was the only guy who would measure the size of the jockey. If he was smaller than Mickey, then Mick would bet the horse. Our interviews there kept getting interrupted, however, because every time the starter’s trumpet sounded, Mickey would get up and salute. Another memorable lunch was at Vitello’s Restaurant in Studio City. We would mostly listen as Rooney told of his unparalleled life and career. As we discovered, many of his stories were apocryphal, but fun. It was at Vitello’s that we discussed the possibility of writing the story of this icon, empirically, dispelling much of the myth (some of which he created) that surrounded his life.
The Life and Times of Mickey Rooney Page 52