FIT FOR A WIZARD
So this Wizard of Oz prequel that opened in
movie theaters this past Friday has probably turned in a multi-million dollar first
weekend.
I hope it proves to
be a worthy addition to the canon. As you have undoubtedly learned if
you’ve been anywhere near the popular media in recent days, there’s a long
history of Oz-iana on stage and screen, dating back to some of the earliest
successes – and failures -- of the L. Frank Baum empire.
But did you know:
It’s a world that almost wasn’t. Baum’s achievements in the world of children’s
literature came long after struggles and failures in a variety of other
endeavors.
Case in point: If
you wanted to be a collector of the complete works of L. Frank Baum, you would
need to own his first book, published in 1886:
 |
| The copy pictured here is a 20th Century reproduction, collectible in its own right. |
There’s plenty of interesting Baum biographical material just a mouse
click or two away if you want to dig deeper into his celebrity “prequel” story
and the difficulties that followed him throughout his life.
But for today --
What I really wanted to share is a story that becomes “top of mind” for
me almost every time I see the “classic” 1939 Wizard of Oz movie will be
aired. It’s a tale that originated with the studio and was popularized by the
master storyteller, Paul Harvey.
It goes something like this:
Of all the major players in the film, the one viewers are least likely
to be able to name is Frank Morgan, although he played several roles in the movie.
- The first was
Professor Marvel, the traveling sideshow man Dorothy encounters in the
early black-and-white sequences of the film.
- Other secondary roles
in which Morgan appeared were as the Emerald City Coachman/Soldier/Guard
at the Gates
- Finally, and most notably, he was the Wizard himself.
The role of Professor Marvel required Morgan to wear a particular kind
of coat, one reflecting a shabby gentility, a grandeur gone to seed.
MGM's Wardrobe Department was notified and they gathered 50+ coats from
secondhand shops around Los Angeles. Morgan and movie director Victor Fleming met
to select one coat from the collection. The one they decided on was tired with
age: a Prince Albert coat, made of black broadcloth and flared at the waist
with a nap-worn velvet collar.
It fit Frank Morgan perfectly.
The scenes involving Professor Marvel took about a week to shoot. On
one of the filming days, particularly warm and made warmer still by the hot
studio lights, Morgan was perspiring profusely under the weight of this coat. Between
takes he turned the sweat-soaked coat pockets inside out to air them out. When
he looked down, he saw the label of the Chicago tailor who made the coat,
followed by the name of the original owner written in indelible ink.
MGM contacted the tailor and the identity of the original owner was
confirmed.
After the movie was completed, Professor Marvel's coat was presented to
the widow of the former owner.
Yes, she said, the coat had been her husband's.
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L. Frank Baum in his more affluent days |
Q: Have you guessed
the owner?
The well-worn garment had been selected because it was right for the
part and because it fit Frank Morgan.
But, perhaps with a touch of the magic that makes The Wizard of Oz
movie of 1939 so enjoyable and memorable, Professor Marvel wore a coat originally
made for author, L. Frank Baum.
Q: Cool, right?
Sure it is.
But does it have application in our not-necessarily-skipping-down-the-yellow-brick-road-to-a-happy-ending
lives?
Sure it does.
TGIM
TAKEAWAY #1: Coincidence happens. Don’t make too much of it.
While the coat connection seems somehow magically ordained, we
attribute that ability to it because we want to endow it with special power
and, I suspect, hope for similar moments of wonder directly in our lives. But
the underlying facts are that Baum, who went to Hollywood to parlay his luck
early in the days of Oz-iana success, did not enjoy unmitigated financial
success there and had to declare bankruptcy.
Maybe he even hocked that fine coat he brought from Chicago.
Not much magic in all that.
TGIM ACTION
IDEA: Still Baum persisted and there were many highs among the lows of his life.
The tale of the coat exemplifies that. Once elegant, then “reflecting a shabby
gentility, a grandeur gone to seed,” then coming alive again in a tale of
wonder linked to another difficulty executed but astoundingly successful theatrical
execution of, well, a tale of wonder.
TGIM IDEA IN
ACTION: Work for the highs; work through the lows. It’s not magic; it’s
life. We should: Follow our chosen path … Persist with grace … Survive the down
times … Compromise if we must … Have the success of knowing we did our best and
touched others in a meaningful way … Be grateful that we may be forever
associated with some classic life-affirming deed or occasion.
On the other hand …
Not to be too much of a
spoiler of the magic: Baum biographer Michael Patrick Hearn disbelieves
the accuracy of the coat connection tale, maintaining it had been refuted by
members of the Baum family, who never saw the coat or knew of the story. Paul
Harvey, who has vocal detractors as well as avid fans, did have a tendency to
be less than rigorous in his “reporting.” And, actress Margaret Hamilton – the 1939
movie Wicked Witch of the West -- considered it a concocted studio rumor.
TGIM TAKEAWAY
#2: Sometimes a good story is just a good story. Proceed through life
accordingly.
TGIM ACTION
IDEA: Dig for the truth when it’s important. Dig deeper if it’s really
important. Then choose your facts and truth for a justifiable reason, but be
ready to accept additional authoritative evidence that might alter your
position. It’s OK to waffle or change your stance.
I’ve known the coat-connection story since maybe the mid-1980s. I
really like the story just on the face of it, no takeaways or philosophizing. But
I’ve also always been a bit skeptical and reluctant to share it as much more
than a nod to a good tale, well told. More than a dozen years ago when I last
shared it in any kind of publically published way I drew no conclusions for my
readers but I also shared none of my reservations about its authenticity.
TGIM IDEA IN
ACTION: Now I have, because the evolved digital information age makes it
even easier to do due diligence. I’ve done mine, as much as I feel is necessary
for our TGIM moments
together. And I ended up with a second lesson I think was worth sharing.
Hope you agree.
Wishing you courage, brains, and heart.
Geoff Steck
Geoff Steck
Chief Catalyst
Alexander Publishing & Marketing
Chief Catalyst
Alexander Publishing & Marketing
Englewood, NJ 07631
201-569-5373
tgimguy@gmail.com
201-569-5373
tgimguy@gmail.com
P.S. You almost can’t
do an Oz story without acknowledging it. “Over the Rainbow” was very nearly deleted from the 1939
classic movie. MGM felt that the song made the Kansas sequence too long, as
well as being far over the heads of the target audience of children. The studio
also thought that it was degrading for Judy Garland to sing in a barnyard. (But
Baum might have liked the chickens in the scene.) Producer Mervyn LeRoy,
associate producer Arthur Freed, and director Victor Fleming fought to keep it.
Eventually they got their way.
