Modern Screen (Jul-Dec 1946)

HAY-LO, LIZA, HAY-LO! (Continued jrom page 53) aglow. "Oh, Vincent, she's so wonderful — " Naturally he thought she meant Liza. "This afternoon I was sitting here crying all by myself—" "Judy! What about?" "Nothing special. You always cry after you've just had a baby— Anyway, in walked Miss Cameron and put her arms around me and said, 'You poor little mother,' and cried right along with me. Wasn't that sweet of her? > Remind me never to feel abused again — " If Liza'd been a boy, they were going to call him Vincent, but they couldn't make up their minds what to call a girl. It was hard to find a name they both liked that went with Minnelli, but inspiration hit Judy in the middle of the night. Through the mists of sleep Vincent heard a voice asking: "How about Liza — ?" "Liza who?" "Minnelli—" He thought it over. "Sounds good. I like it—" So with that nicely settled, they both went back to sleep. Vincent wanted a girl from the start. Judy thought she wanted a boy. One day she came in and kissed him ruefully. "Poor Vincent, I hate 10 disappoint you, but I just heard that we're having a son — " "Who told you?" "This woman I met. She said, 'I m psychic' She said, 'I've never been wrong yet—' She said, 'I can tell it's going to 'be a boy — ' " "Suppose she'd said girl?" "I wouldn't have believed her — " That was after their return to Hollywood. In New York they didn't tell a soul. Well, hardly a soul — They'd left for New York right after the wedding, to be gone three months while the hillside home Vincent had bought as a bachelor was being remodeled. One day they went to the doctor, and the doctor said yes. Mrs. Minnelli was going to have a baby. They walked out a little dazed — "We'll add a nursery," said Vincent. " "I want to phone my mother," Judy said. All her mother needed to hear was Judy's voice — those hushed accents, breathing the words across three thousand miles of space: "Mother — you know what—?" That night they went out and celebrated by themselves, having decided not to tell about the baby till they got back to California. Then they changed their minds. They had to tell someone or they'd both explode. So they told a married couple, to whom they were very close. What she'd have done without that safety valve, Judy doesn't know. Meantime, work on their house was postponed and postponed again. They couldn't stay away forever. In fact, they'd have to get back pretty quick now in view of the circumstances. Judy was scheduled to play Marilyn Miller in "Till the Clouds Roll By," with Vincent directing her scenes, and it behooved them to get going before the baby grew very much older — "I bet they'll start on the house the day we move in — " This cheerful prediction was tossed back and forth between them like a running gag. But when the prediction came true, they were less amused. Promptly at seven the workmen arrived and, by way of good morning, hit the side of the house with some kind of infernal machine. For months the house and its occupants woke with a shudder. During the height of the uproar, Fannie Brice lent them her beach house for a couple of weeks, which was a lifesaver, but in the end they had to go back. They lived in one room, while the rest were being done. It was like living in Cain's warehouse, only more nerve-wracking. Sometimes it got them down — "Let's throw them all out, and leave the place as it is — " "Okay, but let's murder them first — " Little by little, the racket and confusion subsided. From a balcony above, Judy could look down the terraced hillside, and watch them converting Vincent's studio, MODERN SCREEN building another room on to it to make a suite for the baby and nurse. The Minnellis had definite ideas about nurseries, which didn't include toy rockers or lambs frisking over the wallpaper. What they wanted was a place for a child to grow into, not out of. Of course the remodeling cost more than they'd planned. It always does. Conscious of their limitations in the art of saving money, Judy and Vincent got themselves a business manager. They're allowed so much weekly for personal expenditures, but anything extra has to have his okay. About the house, he finally put his foot down. "Not another cent. As it is, you'll be living on beans for the next six months — " That was fine with them, they didn't mind living on beans. But when everything but the dressing table in Judy's dressing room was finished, Vincent got an idea. "Antique glass would be nice — " Judy's eyes widened. "Would the estimates cover it?" "No, but I'll see what I can do — " Next day he spent a fruitless half hour with the business manager, who said no to begin with, and wound up saying no — "Oh well," said Judy that night, "it doesn't have to be glass — " But Vincent lets go hard, especially when it's something for his wife. "Why don't we save up for it?" buried treasure . . . So they turned into pennypinchers. Vincent came home every night and emptied his pockets, and Judy counted the loot. For weeks they didn't buy so much as a handkerchief. Not only did they get the dressing table, they got the fun of outfoxing their manager. This was a taste which grew on them. In an antique shop one day they came on a pair of lovely vases, and exchanged the look of conspirators — "Let's not even ask him — " "Why should we, we're independent — " "We certainly are. We can pay ten dollars down and ten dollars a week — " If you've ever had a baby, you know the last months are the hardest. Judy used to get pretty impatient with them — "Silliest thing I ever heard of," she'd grumble. "Why nine months? Why not six? Or even three? With all the wonders of science, you'd think they'd do something about it, but no — too busy with their old atom bombs and rockets to the moon — " Toward the end, humor flagged a little. The doctor had said it would be a Caesarean birth on Tuesday, March 11th. Now Judy loathes hospitals. Passing one on the street, she'll look the other way. So you can measure her discomfort by the fact that she let herself be talked into entering the hospital ahead of time — Mrs. Garland took her down on Friday and got her settled. Vincent spent the evening with her. Next morning she called her mother. "When are you coming down?" "Some time this afternoon. Why?" "Couldn't you come right away? It's so lonesome here — " Mother found her sitting up, looking fresh and chipper after twenty-four hours in bed. One look at the transparent face told her something was brewing, and she didn't have long to wait — "Mother, why can't I go home and spend the weekend with Vincent?" "Why, Judy, we just got you in here — " "Yes, but it was all a mistake. I can (Continued on page 66)