The Christmas Album

[mongoII]

Well done once again, Moira. It was a pleasure reading about the respectful and respected McCreas, perfect for this holiday season.

[moira finnie]

This day in our holiday hegira finds us knocking at the wreathed door of Frances Gifford, whose birthday came on December 7th earlier this week. Doors seemed to open naturally in the wake of this onetime golden girl, especially during the holidays. Largely forgotten today, she was a young lady who had just about everything: A beautiful face and form, a good mind (she graduated from high school at 16 and had intended to study law at UCLA), and she was in the right place at the right time. That place was the Samuel Goldwyn Studio in September, 1936.

The Long Beach, California native was Mary Frances Gifford then, getting a behind-the-scenes tour with Bill Paquette, a boyfriend employed there. Reports differ about the next sequence of events. Some say a Goldwyn exec saw the youngster with the symmetrical fresh face and pitched the classic line, "How would you like to be in pictures?" Others say that Merle Oberon, making Beloved Enemy (1936) with Brian Aherne at the time, took a shine to the lovely girl, asserting that she should be given a screen test and that a meeting with Mr. Goldwyn should be arranged for the lithe teenager, whose only acting experience had been in high school plays. Somehow, I suspect that the truth is in the middle of these tales.

A brief but hectic year followed as the newly christened "Mary" Gifford was tutored in the art of posing, makeup, walking with one of those cockamamie books on her head to learn poise, and having scads of pictures taken of her--most of which wound up on the desks of publicists and their minions--though a few found their way into a feature story in Life Magazine. A flurry of small, often uncredited parts followed in forgettable films, though she also flickered briefly through scenes in some eventual classics as well. Gifford can be seen filling in the background prettily in Stage Door (1937) (in which her on-screen character, "Mary McGuire," had an actual name for the first time), and Bringing Up Baby (1938)--though you have to be quick to catch sight of her fleeting presence.

A brief appearance as a bus passenger in one ironically named film, Living on Love (1937), resulted in the marriage of 19 year old Frances Gifford (as she was now called) to talented veteran actor James Dunn (Bad Girl, Stand Up and Cheer, The Bramble Bush). Their nuptials took place in Yuma, Arizona between Christmas, 1937 and New Year's Day, 1938, a traditional time of renewed hopes and resolutions. Despite any dreams that might have been nurtured by the couple, 37 year old Dunn's roller coaster career was unfortunately on the down grade during their four year marriage, as alcoholism increasingly blighted his life. (James Dunn would eventually earn a well-deserved Academy Award as Best Supporting Actor for his finest portrayal, that of the well-meaning, ne'er-do-well alcoholic father and husband in Elia Kazan's adaptation of Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945).

Gifford's screen career was actually on the upswing by the time she filed for divorce in 1941, though perhaps it didn't seem so when the actress was loaned out to Republic from her new berth at Paramount. The actress stepped into the starring role of Nyoka, the Jungle Girl (1941) in a loosely adapted version of Edgar Rice Burroughs' story. In the process of making this entertaining, low budget serial, Frances Gifford earned a place as a heroine next to the silent era's Pearl White, reportedly becoming the first female title character in a serial since sound. Gifford succeeded spectacularly in this role that displayed her natural athleticism and trimly efficient manner.

Playing a girl who grew up in the African jungle of mythical Cairobi with her doctor father (Trevor Bardette) who is vexed by his evil twin, (!) the ludicrous aspects of the plot do not mitigate Ms. Gifford's poise. She had a kind of elegant spunkiness in the role, whether she was riding on the back of an elephant, being roasted alive as an entrée on a witch doctor's menu, trapped in a room with a guy in a bad gorilla suit, or swinging through the jungle on a vine. She also performed many of her own stunts, though Republic veteran stuntman Dave Sharpe doubled her on a few shots. Her aplomb, a nicely tailored, leopard-trimmed suede ensemble (with matching knee high boots) and that permanent wave in her brunette locks that never seemed to frizz up or lose its bounce in the fetid rain forest all combined to prompt better offers to come her way. After a few more pit stops on the studio trail in a small part in a good movie, The Glass Key (1942), another in an unwieldy collection of Western clichés in American Empire (1942), and a nifty return visit to genre-land in Tarzan Triumphs (1943), a contract materialized for the actress at the Tiffany of movie studios, MGM.


In Culver City, under the watchful eye of the soft-spoken, and very powerful casting director Benjamin Thau, the new contract player began to make some progress in her career. In many ways Gifford was a quintessential MGM contract player. She became a young woman who was groomed, radiated health, and proved adaptable to the needs of the studio--and was almost indistinguishable from many other girls at the studio. She became, perhaps unwittingly, a product of modern art and science as much as God-given endowment. In several of her films, the comely Frances Gifford often seemed to lack an individual spark to set her apart from others. Some critics noticed her resemblance to others, though it was hard to put their finger on just who she resembled. Some said Gifford reminded them of Laraine Day, or Jean Rogers, or was it Ann Miller?

When the job required it, Gifford did what she was asked, appearing in print as a model wearing appropriately grim but serviceable duds for Rosy the Riveters, designed for safety rather than style on the wartime factory floor. Normally, the actress was seen in clothes designed by Irene, specializing in film roles as a cafe society type contrasted with a Lana Turner or an Esther Williams. She could adopt an air of brisk hauteur, reinforced by a lovely speaking voice, with careful diction that was no doubt burnished through lessons with studio mainstay Lillian Burns. She was a regular candidate for parts in which her genteelly wayward character needed to learn a lesson. Often that message seemed aimed at a woman in the workplace, who, MGM apparently felt, needed to be reminded about her femininity and the happiness she might achieve if her character got those silly notions about a long term career out of her head, (see her college professor role in 1945's She Went to the Races). Gifford appears to have found a niche as an easily cast lead in some B movie projects, often paired with the studio's likable second string leading men, James Craig and John Hodiak in the mix.

Her impact, even in the high profile wartime drama, Cry, Havoc (1943), seemed to have been diminished by the studio's high polish rather than enhanced by MGM's characteristic attention to detail and production values. The singular Margaret Sullavan, and Marsha Hunt, who could purr as well as bristle while remaining an appealing individual, along with the troupe of ten other distinctive actresses in the cast (including character actress Connie Gilchrist) have blinded me in the past to Gifford's presence in this stagy but still effective story of nurses under fire in the Philippines. I am embarrassed to say that I just didn't notice her before writing this piece, (which also might say something about my powers of observation). Seeing this movie more than once, I am usually moved by the group's changing dynamic and the bravery in this slightly claustrophobic film, though the film's production code restrictions on reporting reality and the studio's mania for nearly perfect hair and makeup proved a bit distracting. Off-screen, btw, Marsha Hunt and Gifford found time, according to later accounts, to enjoy their mutual love of music during this production, since they often met at nearby recording sessions of the studio orchestra.


My real awareness of something diffident and distinctive in Frances Gifford came about after seeing Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945). This movie, directed by Roy Rowland (Lost Angel, Scene of the Crime, Two Weeks With Love) and written by noted scenarist and blacklist victim* Dalton Trumbo (Five Came Back, A Guy Named Joe, He Ran All the Way) from a novel by George Victor Martin, is notable for the hints of bittersweet reality darkening a beautifully told, episodic story of life in a Norwegian farming community in Wisconsin. The stars of this film are Margaret O'Brien, Edward G. Robinson and Agnes Moorehead, whose characterizations are each excellent. The gifted Robinson and Moorehead, appearing as O'Brien's parents, are given a rare chance to play quietly heroic, everyday people. Their positive, warm-hearted presence, and their dynamic with the remarkably effective O'Brien help to lift this imperfect but touching film from sentimentality to something particularly moving in its moments of unforced simplicity.

Frances Gifford played the independent Viola Johnson, a newly arrived teacher from the city whose career path includes what she assumes is a brief apprenticeship in this rural backwater, until she becomes involved with a local newspaper editor (James Craig, seen in the image above with Frances Gifford), as well as with the people of the small community. Among the rural residents who is briefly seen is a somewhat fey, simple-minded girl, Ingeborg Johnson (Dorothy Morris), who appears to be in her teens, but whose hostile father had refused to allow to attend any school for reasons that the screenplay never adequately explains. Since this story is told largely from the point of view of a child played by Margaret O'Brien, and perhaps because of the restrictions of the Production Code, (there are surprisingly strong hints that Ingeborg may was molested and impregnated prior to her surprise marriage) the plight of this youngster is only half-understood by the viewers too.

There is an especially jarring scene when the mysterious demise of an apparently retarded young woman, Ingeborg Jensen (Dorothy Morris), is interpreted through the eyes of a small girl (O'Brien), causing snickers among her more worldly-wise classmates. In this film, there are two minutes that may be Frances Gifford's most effective in her screen career. For the first time since leaving the African veldt behind in Jungle Princess, the actress has a role to play that is not just a passive, highly decorative antagonist or an obstacle thrown into the plot to prevent the happiness of an A list star until the last scene. Gifford's Viola Johnson is both one of life's perennial students, and also a teacher, literally and figuratively. The brief scene below is one of her best moments in this movie:
[youtube][/youtube]
Decent reviews followed Our Vines Have Tender Grapes release, with some observers crediting the director and screenwriter for the restraint they showed in certain scenes, saving them from potential mawkishness. Others found that the subplot of the romance between Craig and Gifford had a tacked on feel--though they ignored the rapport that both actors demonstrated in their interactions with the uncanny children in the film, especially Margaret O'Brien and Butch Jenkins, who played the girl's nemesis-playmate. Frances Gifford's career looked even better after this movie, and in 1946, she was chosen for the leading part in The Arnelo Affair (1946), a female-centric film noir directed by radio's premiere writer, Arch Oboler. The movie, which is interesting at times, but is over-burdened by the writer-director's radio style of writing using interior monologues (it was based on a play written for that medium). The film sat on the shelf for a year before seeing the light of a projector in a movie house, but it has its charms.

The postwar slump at the box office presaged deep changes to the corporate structure of Hollywood, and contract players at MGM were undoubtedly a bit anxious about the future. For Frances Gifford, however, her malleability and ties to Benny Thau seemed to protect her employment. Unfortunately, on the night of December 31, 1947, while on the way to a New Year's Eve party attended by Louis B. Mayer and his cohorts, Frances and Mr. Thau were in a terrible car accident. Thau was apparently alright, but Gifford suffered severe head injuries and the trauma from this accident--even after plastic surgery restored her lovely face, leading her and MGM to end her contract in December, 1948 by mutual agreement.

After this period, the actress was only seen sporadically on screen, with her last film role in 1953's obscure Sky Commando with Dan Duryea. In her penultimate movie role, made just before turning 30, Gifford played an aristocratic divorcee pursuing a morally suspect horse trainer Bing Crosby in Frank Capra's Riding High (1950), a remake of the director's earlier Broadway Bill (1934). The stresses of the rapidly changing movie business and the lingering effects of the 1947 crash may have contributed to Frances Gifford being hospitalized in California state mental hospitals repeatedly in the next decades. However, in 1983, it was revealed that Ms. Gifford had recovered from her physical and psychological problems. She was found working contentedly at the Pasadena Central Library, perhaps enjoying a job that did not simply rely on her pleasant appearance. Maybe that life, which ended when the former actress died in 1994, was a bit closer to one that the 16 year old she once was might have imagined, before Frances Gifford fell down the rabbit hole into Hollywood's wonderland.


* Unbelievably from a 21st century perspective, three years after the movie was made, it was one of those cited by HUAC as laced with possible Communistic propaganda, since it contained several scenes that emphasize communal support of citizens. The Committee's attention focused largely on suspected CP ties of actor Morris Carnovsky and particularly on the high profile Hollywood Ten member, Dalton Trumbo, since his contributions to the screenplay were alleged by some to be promoting ideals contrary to American values. The very broad brush that tarred this film was one of the main reasons that Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945) received very few screenings on television until the 1990s.

~~~~~~

Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945) is on the TCM schedule from time to time and it is finally available on DVD and can be purchased on the internet, including here, as part of the Warner Archive Collection.

~~~~~~

Sources:

The Glamour Factory: Inside Hollywood's Big Studio by Ronald L. Davis, (Southern Methodist Univ., 1993)
"Snapshots of Hollywood Collected at Random" by Louella Parsons, The Milwaukee Sentinel, Jan. 5, 1948.
"Hollywood Love...", (UPI), The Toledo News-Bee, Dec. 20, 1937.

[mongoII]

Moira, I recall when I was kid I had a crush on Frances Gifford. In the movie "Tarzan Triumphs " she turned me on as the character Zandra. She was just beautiful.

[JackFavell]

Thanks, Moira, and thank goodness for TCM showing Our Vines Have Tender Grapes. I first saw it last year, and probably wouldn't have known who Frances Gifford was if it weren't for that role. The movie is wonderful, it has become a favorite of mine for it's gentle, tolerant viewpoint and the remarkable acting of the entire cast. I hope they will be showing it again at this time of year, because it makes a great Christmas movie.

I really like Gifford in the movie. Her character is one of the few of that time who questions the idea of ending a career to settle down and get married. I like that she doesn't jump into a marriage with Craig, changing her entire life without a thought. Her dislike of the small town is realistic, and I understand her reluctance to change everything. I also like how her dilemma resolves itself, slowly showing her the good in the town, and how she can make a difference there.

I hope CineMaven has time to come over here and look, because she is a big Frances fan! It's thanks to her that I finally saw The Arnelo Affair. I had no idea about Frances' head injuries and car accident. Thanks again for cluing in the clueless... (that means me.)

[CineMaven]

YOU RANG??

First off, FRANCES DEE stopped my heart in "SO ENDS OUR NIGHT." She is absolutely and utterly beautiful. BEAUTIFUL.

Secondly, your writing Moira is simply exquisite. I mean, I don't know how else to describe it. Your words just float and seep into my brain so...so__________ that I KNOW I sound like a blithering idiot for just writing that. I can't describe it. And it's not just my liking the topic you choose to discuss but I love reading HOW you write. So there!!

Thirdly...FRANCES GIFFORD.

What made you write about her? Why did you single her out to write about, Moira?

I've seen her in "CRY HAVOC" but as you wrote, I never noticed her what with all the other ladies in the cast. It wasn't until Miss Goddess recommended "THE ARNELO AFFAIR" that my eyes were opened...and my curiosity piqued with "WHO IS THAT?" Yes, I have recommended that film to anyone who will listen to me. I've seen "She Went to the Races" and her picture with Bing. I loved her passion awakened but tortured guilt in "The Arnelo Affair" and her earnestness in "Our Vines Have Tender Grapes." And again I have to agree with you when you write:

"...and was almost indistinguishable from many other girls at the studio. She became, perhaps unwittingly, a product of modern art and science as much as God-given endowment. In several of her films, the comely Frances Gifford often seemed to lack an individual spark to set her apart from others."

Pretty girls were a dime a dozen...and one had to have that indescribable spark to set them apart from the rest of the herd and set the screen on fire as Bette Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Rita Hayworth, Susan Hayward etc. etc. and so many etceteras, did. Maybe they didn't turn on her sexy appeal though I tip my hat to you about her, Mongo.

In my trivia-addled brain, I see we have Frances Gifford starring opposite two of Hollywood's soon-to-be legendary screen goddesses, in the early stages of their career when she worked opposite: Ava Gardner and Lana Turner in "She Went to the Races" and "Marriage Is A Private Affair" respectively. May I talk about "...Private Affair" for one brief moment, please? This is another film Miss Goddess turned her liittle spotlight on, in her tribute to Lana Turner thread. Yes, it's Lana's picture all the way and she wears it well. Oh she's as cute as a button, there's no denying it. But then there's Frances Gifford in the role of her new friend Sissy. She had my undivided attention whenever she was on the screen (Sorry Lana). Perhaps Frances didn't possess the obvious accoutrements of "oomph" (though she did look mighty spiffy in "Tarzan Triumphs") but I thought she had the poise and gravitas of a leading lady, her voice, that smile and her clean good looks and air of je ne sais quoi, Frances Gifford stunned me into a worshipper as her character has an adulterous affair. (I was a little thrown for a loop when the movie broached that topic for the nineteen forties). And when Frances' paramour shows up at dinner with his new wife as she sits there with her husband, Frances tries to hold it together at the small dinner gathering. As she disintegrate before our very eyes it was thrilling to watch the glares, the double entendres and the destruction playing several strains at once.

Yeah that's me folks...all hyperbolic, over-wrought, emotional writing. I can't help it guys. Okay! Okay!! I should just say that I am a fan of Frances Gifford. Please just send me a PM alerting me of her screen appearances. Thanx.

Uhhmmmm, Moira...

You don't take requests do you? You don't think you could write up just a little sumthin' sumthin' on your thoughts on a girl who came in from out of the sunlight? Maybe something like "One Hit Wonder-fuls"??? For Jane Greer had one role that has earned her name to be etched, no...carved in the minds and hearts of film noir fans everywhere, and never had another role that reached those heights.

Edited by CineMaven...I got tripped up by a homonym.

[JackFavell]

I saw Marriage is a Private Affair recently and really liked Frances in that one too, though I'll admit I had no idea who she was at the time. She seemed like a smart femme fatale, but ended up showing a fragility that was unexpected. And that scene you are talking about where she pretty much implodes was wonderful! Not to be missed.

[movieman1957]

You know Moira, another year or two of these and you'll have a book. Then there is a guest appearance on the SSO waiting for you.

[klondike]

You know Moira, another year or two of these and you'll have a book. Then there is a guest appearance on the SSO waiting for you.

Hopefully, when the time comes, our silver-tongued Lynn can persuade her to stop by for a visit . . perhaps Robert Osborne could put in a good word for us!

[CineMaven]

"You know Moira, another year or two of these and you'll have a book. Then there is a guest appearance on the SSO waiting for you."

I want my very own autographed copy, Moira.

[moira finnie]

I really like Gifford in the movie. Her character is one of the few of that time who questions the idea of ending a career to settle down and get married. I like that she doesn't jump into a marriage with Craig, changing her entire life without a thought. Her dislike of the small town is realistic, and I understand her reluctance to change everything. I also like how her dilemma resolves itself, slowly showing her the good in the town, and how she can make a difference there.

I like that independent aspect of her character, too. You know that even if she decided to go away, she would still be a decent person.

ou don't take requests do you? You don't think you could write up just a little sumthin' sumthin' on your thoughts on a girl who came in from out of the sunlight? Maybe something like "One Hit Wonder-fuls"??? For Jane Greer had one role that has earned her name to be etched, no...carved in the minds and hearts of film noir fans everywhere, and never had another role that reached those heights.

I'll try to look around to see if a Christmas-related idea pops into my head about Jane Greer--whose limited exposure was hardly her fault...was it, Mr. Hughes??

You know Moira, another year or two of these and you'll have a book.

Are you mad! Leave home? Say, Chris, do you work for a publisher??

Hopefully, when the time comes, our silver-tongued Lynn can persuade her to stop by for a visit . . perhaps Robert Osborne could put in a good word for us!

Well, we'll see about that. My agent, whose name is apparently Chris, might have other marketing ideas. Like changing my name to Dan Brown or Stephen King (Otherwise, he's gonna earn 10% of nothing)

Thanks guys, more is on the way

[movieman1957]

Moira:

I do not work for a publisher. However, you don't have to be real smart to recognize good and interesting work when you find it.

Maybe we can work something out where you don't have to leave home. A visit here doesn't even require you to get out of your pajamas. Maybe TCM can do a remote piece on you. (They have a vested interest since you're a Morlock.) There's also radio. Or, maybe we do lots of press releases and keep you hidden so you become a great mystery.

Then we can all say we knew you when.....

[moira finnie]

Diving into the social whirl to begin our 2011 tour through Christmas Past, Hollywood-style, we find ourselves sharing a moment with a courtly monster and a glowing chorine in December, 1932. Perhaps it was a contrivance of some publicity agent, but Boris Karloff and Ginger Rogers actually seem a bit enthralled with each other's company at this party in one of the darkest years of the Great Depression. Despite the grim economic news, things looked fairly rosy for these two hardworking if very different thespians. In darkened theaters for the next decades, both would bring their own unique comfort and joy to audiences longing to elude reality's blues.

A potent blend of common kewpie doll and bewitching fallen angel, Ginger, at 21, was already a veteran on stage and screen, after officially entering show biz when she won a Charleston contest at a mere 14. Texas-born Rogers, dressed above in a satin number with the curious gap in the sleeves, had sparkled in 1929's Top Speed, a musical confection that was first served to Broadway audiences on Christmas Day, when people still thought the stock market slump would turn around any day now. The following year in the Great White Way's Girl Crazy, the warmth in Rogers' bubbly young voice was a balm for the listeners' soul, when the Gershwins chose her to introduce the achingly lovely But Not For Me, among other now classic tunes. Appearing to critical and popular acclaim within the first ten minutes of the show, Rogers left the chorus behind for good, and even held her own onstage with that formidable musical steamroller, Ethel Merman. By 1929 Ginger began appearing in shorts and films and had already performed in 16 movies prior to being named one of WAMPAS Baby Stars of Tomorrow at the end of 1932.*

As I write this, I am watching Rogers and Astaire "dancing cheek to cheek" in Top Hat (1935) proving, once again, that they were a transcendent combination. On the December night of this party that brought her together with Boris for a moment or two, perhaps no one quite expected Ginger, who was the wisecracking girl who made "Cigarette me, big boy" a catch phrase of the early '30s, to ever partner so elegantly with Fred Astaire, with whom she would glide through ten musicals, beginning with Flying Down to Rio in 1933. Then-film critic Graham Greene, in a back-handed compliment in his review of Follow the Fleet (1936), compared Fred Astaire to Mickey Mouse, since he claimed that Fred and the antic Disney creation shared a "touch of pathos, the sense of a courageous and impromptu intelligence, [and] a capacity for getting into awkward situations..." However, when examining Rogers as a fitting partner to Astaire in Greene's cartoonish simile, he concluded that "...Miss Ginger Rogers will never quite attain Minnie's significance (she is too brazen and self-sufficing for the part)." The novelist-turned-film critic's impish remark missed something important in Ginger's sharply drawn characters in the RKO musicals. When she stopped speaking--and rejecting Fred repeatedly in their films until the last reel--her pining romantic heart was unfurled on the dance floor--where slowing movement and silent grace, in tandem with her partner, made all the world's trivial surroundings fall away, as the artificial and material world faded from view.

However, those justly celebrated films were complemented by some Ginger's more expressive and accomplished non-musical films including the justly famous ones: Stage Door (1937), Kitty Foyle (1940), The Major and the Minor (1942), as well as the less well known smaller films, (my favorites) such as The Primrose Path (1940), Storm Warning (1951), and I'll Be Seeing You (1944). I'd especially recommend the latter, which features one of the most touching depictions of a poignant Christmas season this side of It's A Wonderful Life--and has a non-saccharine story line that still seems relevant today. Life away from the camera may have been a bit complicated for Rogers in part thanks to a stagemother--her greatest supporter, but one wonders how often Ginger's ties to her complicated five marriages. The generations that have followed neither know nor care about these details. These things of the moment all fall away when every few years, people seem to rediscover the lithe form, sassy humor, and real talent of Ginger Rogers all over again.

Looking back from the perspective of 1975, Rogers, who had kept working as long as she could, made a remark that might have been a reflection of this December event.

"The '30s were such a pretty time. I know it was a bad time for an awful lot of people, but not for me. I remember the whole atmosphere, the ambiance of the '30s with a glow because success was knocking at my door. I got to California in '32, just in time to do Gold Diggers of 1933, where I sang We're In the Money. It was a whole new life for me. I was excited about it. It was happy and beautiful and gay and interesting. I was surrounded by marvelous people, all the top people of our industry."

Today, the thought of Boris Karloff at Yuletide usually brings forth memories of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but in 1932, the forty-five year old actor may have been cherishing the moment after a decades-long struggle to find a spot in show business. Just a year before, Karloff had signed a contract with Universal and by December, 1932 was earning a princely $750 a week. The international success garnered after playing Frankenstein (1931) may be the reason most people knew his name, but The Criminal Code (1931), the Howard Hawks film starring Walter Huston, marked the struggling actor's real step out of the shadows--after 81 movies and almost a quarter century as an actor.

A man whose friends fondly remembered him awash in tears at the sound of a Christmas carol, the season was always something special to Boris. In another holiday season in another century, a nine-year-old better known as William Henry Pratt, the youngest of seven brothers and one stepsister, began his theatrical journey. In December of 1896 in a drafty parish hall in the London Borough of Enfield, the actor who became Boris Karloff portrayed his first role, a Demon King, wearing a black skull cap and tights for a Christmas pageant based on the Cinderella fairy tale.

This debut "launched" him, according to the actor, "on a long and happy life of being a monster" giving him, he said, "the fire" to pursue his lifework. The youngest of seven brothers and one stepsister who had planned a life in the foreign service for their baby brother left England for Canada shortly after leaving the University of London at about 24 years of age. He would not see his family again for 25 years, but returned to visit them as a world famous star. There he worked at manual labor whenever he was between jobs in touring stock companies, one of which eventually landed him on the West Coast. Beginning as an extra, Karloff is estimated to have appeared in 81 movies between 1919 and 1931, reportedly beginning as part of a crowd scene in a Pearl White film, The Lightning Raider.

In 1932 alone, the former William Henry Pratt had 8 films released, including The Mummy, Scarface, The Mask of Fu Manchu and The Old Dark House . Perhaps that schedule seemed light compared to the previous year, when he made his breakthrough. In 1931, he had appeared on screens in 12 movies, including two excellent character roles in The Criminal Code (a part that he had also played on stage) and in Five Star Final as well as that movie about that misunderstood guy with the bolts in his neck (Frankenstein). Many of these roles avoided the macabre and supernatural, but utilized his tall, beetle-browed, sinister presence and sometimes his mellifluous speaking voice in and gifted skills as a pantomimist). Most of his film roles, however, appeared to have been the exact opposite of his truly gentle nature--though surely something inside drove him to invest his many parts with some potent blend of the unknowable and the shockingly recognizable. Modestly, he once tried to tell an interviewer that he knew better than to resent his curious success:

"You could heave a brick out of the window and hit ten actors who could play my parts. I just happened to be on the right corner at the right time.
One always hears of actors complaining of being typed - if he's young, he's typed as a juvenile; if he's handsome, he's typed as a leading man. I was lucky. Whereas bootmakers have to spend millions to establish a trademark, I was handed a trademark free of charge. When an actor gets in a position to select his own roles, he's in big trouble, for he never knows what he can do best. I'm sure I'd be damn good as little Lord Fauntleroy, but who would pay ten cents to see it?"

We look back on Boris Karloff and Ginger Rogers as incredibly electric icons of the movies in which they shared their matchless presence with the audience. At the time when they soared, sometimes stumbled (see Boris' Mr. Wong movies and Ginger's Magnificent Doll sometime for evidence) and persevered for decades longer than many of their contemporaries, perhaps people occasionally took their presence for granted. For Boris, most of his films were mediocre or worse, and a few were exceptionally fine stories that we now call classic. As writer Ray Bradbury once put it, "We knew [Boris] would never hurt us, but only try to instruct us to the real ways of the world that is often nightmare...we had our long conversation with the man, didn't we? Starting when most of us were nine or ten and going right on up to [the year of his last film] when he made his last call, left his neat card, bowed, put on his hat and left...We all knew him, didn't we?"


Above: Santa Claus, as interpreted by Mr. Pratt

For those of us who have only met these two disparate figures flickering in black and white on the television screen as they showed us something sublime, here's a holiday toast to them--and our thanks.
________________________________

*WAMPAS was the acronym for the Western Associated Motion Picture Advertisers who named promising newcomers in the film community from 1922 to 1934. In the year that Rogers earned the honorific, the other young performers in her company included some forgotten young ladies, but some whose name and screen work still resonate. They were Lona Andre, Lillian Bond, Mary Carlisle, June Clyde, Patricia Ellis, Ruth Hall, Eleanor Holm, Evalyn Knapp, Dorothy Layton, Boots Mallory, Toshia Mori, Ginger Rogers, Marian Shockley, Gloria Stuart, and Dorothy Wilson. Each is introduced in this video, hosted by football great turned actor Johnny Mack Brown and artist Will Pogany. (I love the way that Johnny Mack Brown asks to see one young lady's "pro-feel" in his aw-shucks accent):

[youtube][/youtube]

________________________________
Sources:

Gottlieb, Robert, Reading Dance: A Gathering of Memoirs, Reportage, Criticism, Profiles, Interviews, and Some Uncategorizable Extras, Pantheon, 2008.

Lindsay, Cynthia, Dear Boris: The Life of William Henry Pratt a.k.a. Boris Karloff, Limelight Edition, 1995.

Nollen, Scott Allen, Boris Karloff: A Critical Account of His Screen, Stage, Radio, Television, and Recording Work, McFarland, 1991.

Rogers, Ginger, My Story, HarperCollins, 2008.

________________________________

See you tomorrow with Day Two of our holiday journey.

[knitwit45]

Hooray! Christmas is officially here, with this great album being opened again. Just read back a page or two, and I sit in awe of your wonderful talent, Miss M. Hope that book deal happens

Could I sign up to be your agent or publicist or go-fer?????

[moira finnie]

Hooray! Christmas is officially here, with this great album being opened again. Just read back a page or two, and I sit in awe of your wonderful talent, Miss M. Hope that book deal happens

Could I sign up to be your agent or publicist or go-fer?????

Dear Nancy "Swifty" Lazar aka knitwit:

A.) Yeah! If you could ink that deal for a $50k advance on the book proposal, I'd sure appreciate it (and so would the bill collectors).

B.) Aren't you already the publicist for this website????

C.) What's a "go-fer"? Is it the same as a "dogs-body"? I think the latter pretty much describes most of the jobs I've had in my checkered if colorful career(s).

Thanks for sharing the fun. That's enough for me.

P.S. Is that you trapped in that snowsuit in your new avatar? Did you wear "idiot mittens" like we had to? HATED them!