Miracle on 34th Street
Page 8
The house was empty and gave evidence of recently departed tenants. A broken umbrella, some old overshoes, and a few boxes were scattered about. Fred noticed that there was a small “For Sale” sign on the lawn. By now, Susan had seen the second floor and came dashing down the stairs into the living room. She was blazing with excitement. She told them of her Christmas wish to Mr. Kringle, and here it had come true! Each room was exactly as she had known it would be from the plan in the magazine.
“Mother, you were right about believing even though common sense tells you not to! See, I kept on believing and you were right!” she said breathlessly, and with that she was off to the back yard to see if her swing was there.
Fred looked at Doris. “Did you really tell Susan that?” he asked. Doris nodded silently, on the verge of tears. And then they were in each other’s arms.
“Well, everybody believes in Mr. Kringle now,” Fred said happily. “It seems to be unanimous!”
Doris nodded, still unable to speak. “This house made Susan believe in him,” said Fred, “and it seems to be for sale. We can’t let Kris down now, can we?”
Doris shook her head, smiling, and then she finally found her voice. “I never really doubted you in my heart,” she said. “It was just my silly common sense.”
“Well—it even makes sense to believe in me now,” said Fred. “After all, I must be a pretty good lawyer. I took a little old man from an old folks’ home and legally proved to the world that he was Santa Claus!”
Doris nodded, smiling. “You’re wonderful!” she said. Then something caught Fred’s eye.
Standing in the corner near the fireplace was a cane, a common, ordinary cane just like the one Mr. Kringle always carried. Doris saw it, too.
“Oh, no!” she said. “It couldn’t be. It must have been left by the people who moved out—”
“Well, maybe,” said Fred. He scratched his head and gave a wry smile. “But on the other hand, maybe I didn’t do anything so wonderful after all!”
Historical Note
“AS a child I had very definite doubts about Santa Claus. It always puzzled me that while my Christmas gifts were supposed to come from Santa, I must be sure to thank Uncle George or Aunt Mabel for each one. I was very sceptical [sic] indeed. But recent events have changed my mind completely—I’m a firm believer now . . .”
So begins an article that screenwriter Valentine Davies wrote in the summer of 1947 for Book News, supporting the publication of his first book, Miracle on 34th Street. He describes how, while serving as a Coast Guard officer in 1944, he had been disappointed by the commercial focus and lack of true spirit during the annual rush before Christmas. He thought that if there really were a Santa Claus, and if that Santa walked into a modern department store, he’d be “a pretty disillusioned old boy.” Val, as his friends knew him, outlined a story about Kris Kringle, an elderly gentleman in a retirement home who filled in as Santa Claus in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Kringle seemed so authentic that Macy’s hired him as its Santa Claus, and within days, seemingly without effort, old Kris Kringle elicited goodwill among merchants throughout New York City—and inspired a skeptical little girl, and her equally doubtful mother, to believe in him, too.
Davies showed the outline for what he had intended to be a screenplay to his toughest critic—his wife, Liz, who, to his surprise, was enthusiastic. With her encouragement, he fleshed out the idea and sent the story to George Seaton, a writer-director at Twentieth Century-Fox and an old friend from their University of Michigan days. Seaton shared the idea with executives at the studio, and soon after, they offered Davies a contract for his story. With Seaton on board to write the screenplay, Twentieth Century-Fox went into production for the film starring Edmund Gwenn, Maureen O’Hara, John Payne, and newcomer Natalie Wood.
During the filming, another college crony, Dr. Walter Simpson (Michigan class of 1924), forwarded Davies’ story to S. Spencer Scott (class of 1914), vice president and general manager of Harcourt, Brace and Company. The manuscript reached both Scott and editor-in-chief Robert Giroux (later of the publishing house Farrar, Straus and Giroux), who both quickly moved to publish the book in tandem with the scheduled fall 1947 release of the film.
Because of a film industry strike, there was a shortage of color films available from all of the studios for screening that summer, so Twentieth Century-Fox decided to release Miracle on 34th Street twice—once, in June, to select theaters to fill the gap in new movies; then in early fall nationwide. Archival letters detail how Harcourt, Brace in general—and Robert Giroux and his staff in particular—pushed to advance the book’s release date to tie in with that of the film. Giroux, who had received the rough manuscript in February, worked with Davies to reshape the book, using the original and revised versions of the manuscript. Davies put the final touches on the rewrite and offered feedback on the jacket art, leaving Harcourt, Brace to perform its own miracle by racing the manuscript through layout, typesetting, and production in just three months to guarantee finished books in June, in time for the film’s premiere.
Within months of its release, the book was appearing on bestseller lists, with more than four hundred thousand copies in print. The film went on to win three Academy Awards: Best Supporting Actor, for Edmund Gwenn’s portrayal of Kris Kringle; Best Screenplay, for George Seaton; and Best Original Story, for that disillusioned Coast Guard officer, Valentine Davies. Clearly, postwar America was ready for some old-fashioned Christmas spirit, packaged in this modern tale.
The story has withstood the test of time. More than fifty years after the publication of Miracle on 34th Street, Macy’s still hosts its annual Thanksgiving Day Parade and the U.S. Postal Service continues to receive thousands of letters to Santa Claus each holiday season. In Kris Kringle’s words: “Underneath all the hurry and bustle people still believe in Santa Claus and all Christmas stands for.” Valentine Davies had become a “firm believer” while in the process of creating what he considered his best work. As Robert Giroux wrote to Davies after first reading the story: “We editors simply think that this is the best Christmas story since Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.” Families nationwide echo his opinion by gathering each holiday season to watch the film, reaffirming their faith in miracles and the power of goodwill.
Friends, relatives, and colleagues recall Davies as an energetic, talented, humorous man who loved sailing, jazz, and Michigan football. But he was first and foremost a writer, developing his craft at college with a column in the Michigan Daily and honing his skills as a graduate student at the Yale Drama School. He walked away from his family’s lucrative real estate business in New York and moved to Hollywood (which he called a suburb of New York) to try his hand at screenwriting. He wrote for MGM, RKO, and Universal Studios, as well as for Twentieth Century-Fox. He penned one other novel, It Happens Every Spring, and a Broadway musical, Blow Ye the Winds. In addition to receiving an Oscar in 1947 for Miracle, he was subsequently nominated three times for the golden statue: Best Motion Picture Story, for It Happens Every Spring (1949); Best Story and Screenplay, for The Glenn Miller Story (1954); and Best Short Subjects Documentary, for The House Without a Name (1956), which he produced. He was a member of the Writers Guild of America, which since 1962 has presented the prestigious Valentine Davies Award to the WGA member “whose contributions to the entertainment industry and the community-at-large [bring] dignity and honor to writers everywhere.”
Valentine Davies was president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when he died in 1961 at his home in Malibu, California. He was fifty-five years old. Marian Saphro, who was Davies’ secretary at the time of his death, recalled many years later that her boss passed away in the midst of a hearty laugh. Somehow, it seems only fitting for the man who gave the world Kris Kringle, with all his joy and magic.
About the Author
VALENTINE DAVIES (1905–1961) was a prominent Hollywood screenwriter. He won the 1947 Academy Award for Best Original Story for Mi
racle on 34th Street. Davies served as president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and was a member of the Writers Guild of America, which now presents the Valentine Davies Award as one of its highest honors.