Judy Garland on Judy Garland (34 page)

BOOK: Judy Garland on Judy Garland

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“It's beautiful,” said Sid, “isn't it?”

“No,” said Judy in a strange, frantic voice. “It's ugly. I hate it. I want to get away, Sid. And I don't ever want to come back.”

“That's only because you've been badly hurt, honey,” said Sid, drawing her closer to him. “You're unhappy and confused. But you're one of the biggest names in show business. You can make thousands of dollars in radio, in theaters â¦ you can make millions inâ”

“By the way,” Judy interrupted, with a tense little giggle. “I'm dreaming of a beautiful steak.”

“Sorry, honey,” said Sid. “I haven't any money.”

“Neither have I,” said Judy. “I'm broke.”

Almost four years later, Judy Garland had occasion to remember that night on the mountaintop when they had to borrow enough money for a hamburger at a drive-in. It was July 29, 1954, and the last scene of
A Star Is Born
was finished. Cast, crew and Warner Brothers executives gathered around to kiss Judy and slap Sid on the back. As the Lufts left, someone called after them, “You've got a wonderful picture. You'll make millions.”

“The last time we were making millions,” said Judy with a laugh, “we couldn't even afford a steak. Now we have a beautiful baby, a lovely home and a good picture.” Affectionately she brushed her cheek against Sid's coat sleeve. “But I couldn't have made the picture without you, Sid. When I fell in love with you I'd lost all confidence in myself. I was a silly, frightened girlâbut your love gave me faith in myself again. Remember opening night at the Palladium in London?”

In the spring of 1951, Judy had borrowed money from her agents to pay for her tickets to London. Sid went with her as her manager. It was her first public appearance since she had become emotionally confused and despondent over her career.

“I was sick with fear, that opening night,” she recalls. “Five minutes before curtain time I told Sid I couldn't go on.

“Sid shook me so hard I heard my teeth rattle. âYou silly girl,' he said, âthose people out there love you. You're not going to fall flat on your face.'

“So what do you think I did? I fell flat on my face. I sang three songs. The audience applauded. I started to take a bow. My poor trembling knees buckledâand down I went.

“I managed to get offstage and had no intention of going backâever. But Sid made me and the audience was warm and friendly.”

After the Palladium came the Palace in New York. Sid was still busy bolstering up her ego. But a member of the Palace management, who shall be known as Mr. X, was just as busy breaking it down. He wouldn't paint her dressing room or hire extra ushers. (“Gotta save money. You won't be here long. Won't be many people coming to see you.”) But when he refused her a timpani (a member of the kettle drum family) for the orchestra, it broke what little spirit she had left. One of the musicians said he'd be glad to lend her a timpani.

“No,” said Mr. X. “We haven't room in the orchestra for a timpani. We'd have to take out three $4.80 seatsâand they are all sold for opening night. We'll need every cent we can make. I don't expect this show to last long.”

Came 2:30 in the morningâthe morning of the opening. Judy had finished a rehearsal, a rather sad, dispirited rehearsal. She and Sid lingered on the bare stage after everyone else had gone.

“Sid,” said Judy, “I just can't do the âGet Happy' number without a timpani. I'll be a flop.”

Sid patted her hand. And then, across the stage, he saw a box of tools a carpenter had left.

“Shall we?” said Sid, pointing to it.

“Let's,” said Judy.

They unscrewed three seats from the first row of the orchestra and dumped them backstage. They called the musician who'd offered to lend them the timpani. They took a taxi to his apartment in the Bronx. By 5 that morning, the orchestra had a timpani. Well, that night Judy sang “Get Happy” as it never had been sung before and her opening night at the Palace made theatrical history.

Judy, you'll remember, played the Palace for 19 weeks, a sensational engagement that broke the records of such headliners as Kate Smith, Eddie Cantor and Georgie Jessel. On Sundays she liked to drive in Connecticut with Sid. One Sunday Sid said to her, “I've got a picture in mind for you.”

“I've got one, too,” said Judy. “What's yours?”

“No,” said Sid. “You tell me yours first.”

Suddenly she became quite shy.

“For years I'd wanted to do
A Star Is Born,”
says Judy. “When I suggested it to Metro, while I was under contract there, they laughed at me. I was afraid Sid would laugh, too. So for 15 minutes we drove along, each waiting for the other to say first. And suddenly we both shouted simultaneously,
âA Star Is Born!'”

During the pre-production days of the picture, Judy as star and Sid as producer had many problems. (“Sid had most of them. I was busy being pregnant.”) Sid wanted the best, no matter what the cost. George Cukor to direct. Moss Hart to write the script. Harold Arlen and Ira Gershwin to do the music. Irene Sharaff to design certain sets and costumes. [Richard] Barstow to direct the dancing. The studioâone eye on the cash registerâtried to offer substitutes. But Sid got what he wanted.

“Timpani became our rallying cry,” says Judy. “To us Timpani means: Nothing is impossible. Often I was depressed and willing to compromise, but Sid would shout âTimpani' and I'd rally for battle. I'm sure Jack Warner thought we were crazy.”

One morning, a few weeks after the picture started, Judy woke with a headache. Her phone rang. It was Sid.

“Judy,” he said, “what's the matter? We're waiting for you on the stage!”

“I have a headache,” said Judy. “I think I'll stay in bed today.”

“Timpani,” said Sid, and hung up.

Judy was on the set in an hour. Strange what love, and timpani, can do for a girl.