Modern Screen (Dec 1949 - Nov 1950)

PERIODIC PAIN seen. She is happy for the first time in the only home she has ever known — the Culver City studio. But there is one thing that MGM must never forget. Whatever Judy Garland is today, MGM made her. They took her childhood— and they owe it to her. If she becomes ill again, there is only one thing MGM can do. Forget that Judy is a married woman and a mother. Forget she is a star. Remember the chubby kid who parked her youth in the front office, and that someday she may have to come and pick it up — and go away for a while and live it. You see, she has never had the time before. There is one thing that can always overcome despair, and that is friendship. This story is illustrative, for it shows that friendship and kindness can work wonders. It is what brought Judy back to Hollywood the last time. Judy and her friend, Carleton Alsop, were alone in Boston when she was living at the hospital. She was restless, but much better. However, the thought of having to go back to entertain again was frightening. A note came from an old pal, song writer Hugh Martin. He was in Falmouth, Mass., not too far away, with a summer theater group. Would she like to come down and see the show? Judy wasn't sure, but decided it would be rude not to. She sat in the audience when suddenly she realized that she had been spotted. She crouched low in her seat, just waiting until the performance was over — then she ducked out. A messenger from Martin was waiting for her. Hugh had asked if she would come back into the theater and say hello. It was impossible to avoid, so Judy went back inside. The house was empty of the last of the audience. A huge, bare work light stood on one corner of the stage, supplying the only illumination. Judy walked down the aisle alone and she saw the entire cast of the show gathered behind the footlights. Martin went to her side and told her they had asked if they could put o-n an extra I wouldn't live. In that case, well, there was nothing more to worry about. A feeling of peace and relaxation stole over me. And with it came an impulse to pray. Prayer has been defined as "a devout petition to, or any form of spiritual communion with God." Close to death, I felt I was in communion with God and I felt His presence closer than ever before. I didn't pray for my life to be spared. I just repeated the most beautiful prayer in the world — the Lord's Prayer. Then I fell asleep. When I awoke, my head was swathed in bandages. I could see very little, but I overheard a voice in the hospital corridor. "Too bad," it was saying, "about Van Johnson's accident. That's the end of his career. He's lucky if he pulls through, but he'll never make another picture." You can stand pain. You can stand the thought of death. But when you face the prospect of living without being able to do the thing to which your life has been dedicated, you know real despair. Then I thought, "If this means the end of me as an actor, perhaps with God's help I can become a technician or an assistant director." I have always believed that religion is a universal thing. When I go to church, performance for her alone. Judy droppe' into a seat. She sat in the semi-darkness while thos< summer troupers sang and danced for her All for Judy Garland. Show people paying tribute to an all-time great. Wher they finished Martin came with another request. The cast wanted to know if Jud\ would sing for them. Judy walked down to the piano while Hugh took his place on the bench. Thr players crowded the footlights again anc! Judy started to smg. She sang for twe solid hours — every song she could remember, and those who heard her in that smal Cape Cod playhouse said no one ever sang better. It was the greatest performance they had ever witnessed. Finally there was only one song left. "Somewhere over the rainbow, skie: are blue. . . . And the dreams that yoi dare to dream really do come true. ..." The throb in Judy's voice rose witl hope. Almost fifteen years had passed, bui the silence was there again. Only the buzzing of the night's insects against the work light broke the spell. "Someday I'll wish upon a star, anc wake up where the clouds are far behinc me. . . . Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops— that's where you'll find me." The voice was rich and mellow — and the singer believed the words. When she was finished, there was silence again for a long moment, then prolonged applause — and Judy turned and walked out of the theatei with it ringing in her ears. Her manager was waiting outside neai the car. Judy walked to his side and took his arm. "Let's go," she said. "I'm well again Now I want to go back. I want to go back to Hollywood. I want to go home. . . ." The End (The song lyrics quoted in the above story are from "Over the Rainbow," lyrics by E. Y. Harburg, music by Harold Arlen copyright 1939 by Leo Feist, Inc., and are used by special permission of the copyright proprietor.) I find peace. But I believe that God is everywhere — in the schools, in the hospitals, in our homes. We have only to reach out with our thoughts, and He will hear us. So now I prayed, "If I can never act again, please God, let me be a part of movie-making, somewhere, somehow." Maybe it seems strange that I should have prayed like this about my life when no one really thought I'd pull through. But, as I've said, it wasn't the fear of death that stirred me. Being cut off from the work I loved would be like a living death. My prayer was answered. For while I lay there in the hospital, Spencer Tracy and Irene Dunne went to Director Victor Fleming and to Everett Riskin, producer of the picture, and asked them to hold up production. Although MGM could easily I have hired someone to replace me, the executives decided to wait for me. There is a point during convalescence from a serious accident when you can go | either forwards or backwards. I had just reached that point when Irene and Spene'er came to my bedside with their won f derful news. Afterwards other members of the cast and crew visited me. Their 1 kindness made me feel I had to get well — and fast. •I MY PRAYER WAS ANSWERED (Continued from page 37)