MGM Studios, 1951...
Out of a clear blue sky
Into my heart you came
Not for a day but here to stay
I'll always feel the same
The girl wore a pretty if modest-looking 1920's period dress; she was portraying one of many guests in the party scene. The stars were huddled in the large area just off stage. The music for the number they had just shot seemed to be stuck in her head; she preferred an older, less manic version, but the one for the movie was a much faster recording; they'd dub in the performance version post-production.
She looked over and saw the woman she idolized; at the very least she admired the woman for the amazing range of talent she displayed. As usual, everything was shot out of sequence, and the girl had watched the woman go from sophisticated and charming off stage to ditzy and impossible in front of the camera.
“Okay…I’m happy with that shot. We’ll do Don’s surprise with Kathy after lunch.” Stanley Donen was as demanding as anyone could ever imagine, but he seemed to take co-directing as an almost duel between himself and Gene Kelly; the star of the movie and the genius both in front of and behind the camera. The girl walked up to her idol and stood patiently; hands behind her back holding an autograph book.
“Miss Hagen?” She practically whispered. The woman turned just a little and put her hand out and waved as if to say, give me a second. She downed a paper cup of coffee before turning and smiling at the girl. Nodding in welcome, she spoke,
“Yeah?” The voice was the one she had been using in character; Lina Lamont was the ditzy if mean-spirited leading lady opposite Gene Kelly’s hero. A second of near embarrassment was followed by a more relaxed and normal giggle.
“I’m sorry. I’ve tried to stay in character, but it’s all okay. What’s your name, sweetie?” The girl blushed and pivoted just a bit on her right big toe before speaking.
“Marnie, Miss Hagen.”
“Well, Marnie Miss Hagen, I’m rather pleased to meet you.” She laughed softly; the kind of laugh you would expect out of a proud mother or favorite aunt instead of a star; but that’s how she treated everyone. Her real personality was so strikingly different from her character that people actually cringed when speaking with her.
“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Marnie….?” She tilted her head.
“Marnie Svenson.” The girl blushed at the smile Jean sent her way; feeling more than just her embarrassed self.
“And yes, I’d be happy to sign your autograph book. But only if you tell me your real name, okay? I'm Jean Verhagen from Elkhart, Indiana," she said and nodded enthusiastically. The girl looked down in embarrassment.
“It’s okay. Don’t tell anyone but I think Mr. Kelly may be Irish.” She laughed, putting the girl at ease.
“Oh…it’s Agnetta…Agnetta Svenson.” She held out the book. Miss Hagen took the book in hand, hesitating before leaning closer. She pointed to the girl’s neck.
“It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me,” she whispered. My cousin Herman dances in a club in Manhattan… very much on the Q.T. I understand.” She leaned closer and kissed the girl on the cheek, leaving a very bright red pucker of lipstick on the girl’s face.
“I…I don’t….”
“I mean it, kid. I understand. It’s the nineteen fifties, not the twenties. Come on? Gunnar? Nils?” The girl’s eyes filled with tears.
“Mmm….Markus.” She would have walked away but for the gentle touch of Miss Hagen’s hand on her face. The woman reached back to the table behind her and grabbed a serviette. Gently dabbing away the girl’s tears, she kissed her once again on the cheek and spoke.
“Agnetta is a nice name, young lady.” She practically stressed the word ‘lady,’ causing Marnie to begin to sob.
“Everything okay, Miss Hagen?” Linda Vanderwege, Jean Hagen's dresser, walked over with a sympathetic look on her face. Jean took Marnie in her arms and patted her on the back gently.
“Just stage jitters, Linda. She’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, aren’t you, Miss Svenson?” Marnie looked into Jean’s eyes and saw nothing but acceptance. She then turned and looked into Linda’s eyes and felt nothing but her own embarrassment and shame as she broke free and ran off stage and out of the studio.
“Wow…cute kid...I never saw stage fright quite like that.” Linda said, scratching her head. Jean looked at her and laughed softly at a secret she would never share with another soul as she said almost gently,
“No, Linda. I don’t suppose you have.”
All I do is dream of you the whole night thru
With the dawn, I still go on and dream of you
You're every thought, you're every thing,
You're every song I ever sing
Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring
And were there more than twenty four hours a day
They'd be spent in sweet content dreaming away
When skies are grey, when skies are blue
Morning, noon and night time too
All I do the whole day thru, is dream of you
Life was a song,
You came along
I've laid awake the whole night through
If I ever dared to think you'd care
This is what I'd say to you
The girl wore a glittery dress; a creamy chiffon with sequins beneath. She looked down and noticed she was on the third rung of a step ladder on an open sound stage. The scene was vaguely familiar, as if it was playing out from some movie she had seen. She heard the light tones of an orchestra; a musical dream? The intro was familiar as well, but instead of the rich tenor of Gene Kelly, the girl heard a voice that sounded similar to the dulcet tones of Kelly’s co-star, Debbie Reynolds. She stared at the woman who sang; not gorgeous by most folks’ standards, but like as not the most attractive woman the girl had ever seen. She held out her hand for an assist off the ladder just as a voice called loudly from off stage.
Mrs. Carlyle’s Rooming House, Van Nuys, California, Six in the morning…
“Hey, Mawnie,” the girl called out from the bathroom down the hall. “Ya got any hose? The Jenkins’ cat took a swipe at me and ruined my last pair of nylons.
“Go ahead…top drawer…take whatever you want.” The girl lay on her back on the bed with her eyes fixed on the broken light fixture overhead. Rita walked in and went straight to the highboy and began rummaging through the meager collection in the drawer.
“You shuh? I mean, I don’t hafta…” She paused and looked at the girl on the bed.
“Aw, honey, what’s the matta? It can’t be all that bad, right?” Rita walked over and sat down on the bed next to Marnie. She grabbed the girl’s hand and patted it.
“I betcha he ain’t worth it. You’re too good for him.” It was an excuse for tears that they both used at times since becoming friends at the rooming house. Neither of them had a boyfriend, and both had a lot to cry about. Rita never kept any secrets; her mother had kicked her out after a long lecture about being loose, and she had moved to Hollywood for fame and fortune. Marnie never spoke a word of what hurt inside, but she looked the part often enough that Rita had taken to calling her “Melancholy Marnie.” Rita got down on the floor next to the bed and faced Marnie, who had turned her head to the side.
“Listen, honey, whatevah’s wrong, we can get through this.” For all of her own struggles, Rita was as good a friend as you could find. She leaned closer and kissed the girl on the lips.
“Don’t you tell anybody I did that!” Even in a forward-looking place as California and a city like Hollywood, things didn’t always go well with free expression. She pulled back and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that you look like you needed more than a friend. Oh fuck…I guess I’m a slut just like my mother said.” Now it was Rita’s turn to cry. Marnie touched Rita’s cheek, feeling the hot tears.
“No….it’s okay. I just…” Everyone, perhaps, has worn the look on their face that says, ‘if you really knew me, you’d hate me.’ Rita recognized it at once.
“Listen, kid. It can’t be any worse than being kicked outta St. Margaret’s for being one of those girls, ya know? I’m not gonna win any medals for nice, okay? So what’s botherin’ you? You can tell me.”
“I don’t think I can, Rita…I’m sorry.” She turned her head to the other side. Rita pushed off her elbows and leaned over the girl.
“You ain’t getting’ away that easy, sister. Give!” The brusque exterior and bravado completely belied Rita’s kindness, which was given away by the welcome look in her eyes. And truth be told, Rita was never as racy as her reputation; she just wanted someone to love her for real instead of how her step-father did when she was little. Sometimes the best repairs in our hearts come from other broken souls.
“I…I can’t…”
“You can’t what. Tell me? You don’t hafta, if I ….shit…I hope I’m not being a bitch here, but I know your secret kid.” The conviction on Rita’s face caused Marnie’s eyes to widen in fear.
“NO….NOO.” Marnie covered her face with her hands. She tried to scream, but no sound came out as she was wracked with sobs. Rita’s mother had disowned her for being ‘loose.’ Marnie’s mother hated her for how she turned out.
“Shhh….shhhh…..hey….hey…” Rita said quickly while grabbing the girl in her arms. She pulled her close to the side of the bed and held her tight.
“It’s alright,” Rita said over and over.
“What pair we are, huh, kid? Apparently both of us are too much woman for anyone’s liking, but for different reasons.” She laughed even as tears streamed down her face. Marnie looked into her eyes and saw the exact same expression of acceptance that she had seen the night before with Miss Hagen. It didn’t feel real; at least as much as it should have, but somewhere inside, Marnie Svenson realized that she was loveable, even if she had started out as Markus Svenson.
The MGM Soundstage II, later that morning…
“Miss Hagen?” The girl stood off to the side; back to her job as a script girl now that her scene…the party scene had been finished. Jean Hagen was dressed in her Dueling Cavalier gown, complete with powdered wig. She looked up from the mug of coffee she held and smiled.
“You okay?” Not even a salutation; the woman slid into her mother-hen role immediately. Marnie shook her head no.
“Listen, kid. Your secret is safe with me. I would never dream of telling anyone that you’re a Republican.” She laughed softly; her humor and her charm diffused the girl’s fears only somewhat.
“You’re not the first to pass yourself off for something you’re not.” She paused and looked around; there was a lull in the shooting as one of the cameras had jammed.
“See…everyone looks at me and they see Jean Hagen…Movie Star…okay, actress. But I’m still the same girl I was back in Indiana, but with nicer clothes.” Marnie had put her head down and was shaking slightly.
“I’m sorry….I should have said you’re not the first one to try to be something everyone thinks you’re not. Like I said…my cousin. I hardly ever call her ‘he’ anymore. She just fits in like she belonged. I’m sure someday you’ll feel the same way.” Jean wasn’t sure at all, but she did hope for the best for her cousin and for Marnie in that regard.
“I…I don’t know why I came today. I was going to quit.” Marnie practically sobbed. Jean touched her arm.
“That’s not all you thought about doing, right? Tommy tried it a couple of times. Realized that ending the pain didn’t fix anything. He…see…there I go… She’s seeing a doctor in Manhattan. I bet they have somebody out here you could talk to. Just hang in there.” The woman looked at her and half-frowned; the kind of expression Marnie had longed to see from her own mother, it was one of concern for someone who mattered.
Just then, from behind, Marnie sensed a presence. She turned slightly as Linda Vanderwege brushed past her. The angora on her sweater seemed to stand on end.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Hagen. Wardrobe wants you for your telephone scene since they don’t think they’ll get the camera here fixed. I’m sorry.” She turned to Marnie and shook her head slightly.
“Sorry for interrupting.”
“That’s …okay. I have to get over to get some rewrites for this afternoon’s shooting.” With that Marnie turned and walked away. Her face had grown hot and turned pink.
“What’s with her? She seems awfully shy for someone in Hollywood.” The question seemed almost abrupt but for the look of concern on Linda’s face.
“She’s okay. I think her jitters are going away.” Jean smiled broadly and laughed; her contralto once again, belying the character she played.
“What?” Linda tilted her head and frowned, looking confused.
“You know what.”
“I don’t know what you mean, MISS Hagen.” Her attempts at imperious demonstrated that her acting classes were paying off. Jean touched her arm gently and stood up, assuming her Lina-like posture.
“I mean, if you were any redder, you’d give Rudolph a run for his money,” she laughed again.
“I’m red? No…what?”
“Relax, Linda. This is Hollywood. Right? And anything is possible in Hollywood.” Linda put her hand to her cheek, feeling the heat. Jean smiled and said at last,
“Looks like Marnie there isn’t the only one with the jitters, hmmm?” She chirped the words in her ditzy Lina whine before finishing in her own gentle voice.
“Like I said, this is Hollywood, after all.”
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you
Nature patterned you
And when she was done
You were all the sweet things
Rolled up in one
Moses supposes his toe-ses are roses
But Moses supposes erroneously
And Moses, he know-ses his toe-ses aren't roses
As Moses supposes his toe-ses to be
The girl stared at her feet; too big for some of the nicer shoes, but still small enough to get by. Some silly verse kept going through her head. It was as if someone was singing about how false she was; she felt false nearly all the time even with the best decorations on her façade. She shook her head slightly and lifted it to come face-to-face with the nicest smile she had ever seen. Why anyone would smile at her, she didn’t know. No one ever smiled at her like that. She never even smiled at her reflection like that. And yet, somehow, here was someone who felt like smiling at her….
Mrs. Carlyle’s Rooming House…
Marnie stood in front of her closet mirror. The view was less than spectacular; what she saw was discouraging and the frown on her mirror image seemed worse than how she felt. She stared at her reflection; a thin and almost unremarkable body clothed in a full cotton slip. She looked up and down, seeking some semblance of hope. She actually had small if nearly unnoticeable breasts; a trait of the women in her family but nevertheless a trait reserved only for the ‘real’ women like her mother and sister. She shook her head, wondering why fate blessed and cursed her at the same time.
“Hey, kid?” Rita practically whispered from the doorway. Marnie grabbed the short robe draped on the doorknob of the closet and hastily pulled it on.
“What’s the matta? You don’t hafta do that, kid. We’re all girls here.” It would almost have sounded like teasing but for the sympathetic look on Rita’s face. The young woman had literally stepped in and become a sister to the girl. Marnie turned away and her face grew red.
“I hope I didn’t overstep here, but….” She pulled a business card out of her dress pocket and handed it to the girl.
“I know you don’t want anyone to know. Hell, I wouldn’t either if people treated me like they treat kids like you. Oh, yeah… they do treat me like that,” Rita said, recalling her own family.
“Anyway….I didn’t tell anyone about you; just overheard two guys talking at the restaurant.” Marnie cringed.
“Oh, no, kid. Not like that. I was giving them their breakfast and the one says to the other somethin’ about boys that ….what was it he said…. Boys that are born… damn… you know…like you.” She half-smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“So anyway, I said to them, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I sorta heard what you were talkin’ about. And I have a friend….no not me….a friend just like that.’” She pointed to the card.
“One of them gives me the card and says to have my friend give them a call.” Rita smiled and Marnie stared at the card. It simply read,
Dr. Sidney Rosenthal, School of Psychology, University of California at Los Angeles,
along with the main phone number for the university.
“He said if you want some help, give him a call. I think he and the other guy are doin’ some studies and he said he knows some doctors who can help you.” Her voice trailed off as she waited for Marnie’s inevitable melancholic outburst. The girl didn’t completely disappoint, but her tears weren’t sad at all as she hugged Rita and began to sob.
“Nobody ever….nobody.” Rita patted her on the back, thinking of her own mother and how it must feel to finally feel ….not bad? Normal?
“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,” Marnie gasped and hugged Rita tighter.
“Yeah…that’s why I get the big money.” She joked, but her heart wasn’t in it. What she did feel, however, was the same odd sense of completion she had just witnessed in her friend. She hugged back and kissed the girl on her neck, almost clinging as tightly to Marnie as Marnie hugged her. Before long, both were sobbing, but it was all good.
“We’re really a pair, ain’t we?” Rita laughed through her tears. Marnie didn’t speak, but she nodded and smiled.
Moses supposes his toe-ses are roses
But Moses supposes erroneously
And Moses, he know-ses his toe-ses aren't roses
As Moses supposes his toe-ses to be
MGM Studios, sometime later…
“Miss Hagen?” Linda stood in the doorway of Jean’s dressing room. Jean was sitting at a vanity, but her attention wasn’t in the mirror, but a picture she had taped on the frame; a plain looking teenage girl sitting on a tractor with an elderly couple in front.
“Linda, it’s okay to call me Jean. We’re friends, you know.” The young woman nodded but seemed unconvinced about her inclusion in Jean’s circle of friends.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Besides that question….yes.” She laughed softly. Linda stepped into the dressing room and closed the door.
“Must be pretty important, huh? Of course.” Jean already had an idea of where the conversation was going to go, but she kept her speculation back and stared at the girl intently.
“I….I don’t….Oh God, this is so hard.” Linda put her head down. At twenty-six, she was so much shyer than most of the girls her age; especially working in a place and in an industry that screamed for attention. She shook her head as if it was wrong to even approach Jean. A second later she found her face being lifted gently as Jean stood before her smiling that welcoming smile of hers.
“The door is closed, and my lips are sealed, Linda. It’s okay.”
“I….You must think I’m sick or something.” She began to cry.
“Well, if you’ve got the flu, don’t give it to me.” A laugh followed by a soft touch on the cheek.
“Nothing you can say will push me away, kid. I hope you know that.” Linda barely knew; her inability to value herself made her unattractive and small. But she nodded her head, wanting to believe what Jean was saying. Jean didn’t want to hurry the girl along since the last thing she needed was to feel like a burden or a nuisance. But she wasn’t going to talk easily, either.
“This is about yesterday with the Svenson girl, right?” Linda didn’t speak but nodded; the tears literally flew off her face and onto Jean’s dressing gown.
“And you feel something is wrong inside you…right?” Another nod.
“Let me tell you a story, okay? I love men to pieces. Somedays…maybe most, I wonder why.” It was no secret to anyone that her husband was abusive, but with a toddler and a lifetime of insecurity herself, she stayed. Linda let out a sad sigh.
“Anyway…back in old Elkhart High, there was a girl…Valerie Montalbano. We were in my room lying on the bed looking at some issues of Modern Screen. There was this picture of Olivia de Havilland…you know from Robin Hood when she played Maid Marian?” Linda looked puzzled and Jean smiled and laughed softly.
“Well, I said that I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. The dress she wore was all satiny and lady-like, you know? Valerie looks at me and says, ‘no…you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,’ and she pulls closer and kisses me.” Linda’s eyes widened, causing Jean to smile once more.
“I was shocked and I wanted to get up and run out of the room, but I couldn’t. I wanted to run, but I wanted so much to kiss her back. And I did.” Linda’s look changed from surprised to shocked. Jean nodded almost enthusiastically.
“For three weeks in 1940, she took me places I’d never been to before and we never once left my room. How my mother never found out.” Jean paused in thought for a moment.
“Maybe she knew. Anyway, Valerie was more than my best friend.” Jean bit her lip and choked back a sob.
“September 15th….she was going to come over after church and we were going to do some homework… really…. Schoolwork. I was up in my room and my Mom came up and stood in my doorway with the saddest look on her face… and I knew somehow. She comes over and sits on the bed and pulls me close. Valerie and her brother were driving back from church and a truck blew through the intersection and …” Linda saw the pain in Jean’s face. She put her hand on Jean’s arm.
“I haven’t loved anyone as much as I loved her even though I do love Tom. I…I understand what you’re feeling.”
Her last words were almost unnecessary as Linda looked at her, shaking her head. She wasn’t disagreeing or denying what Jean had told her so much as disbelieving that she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t a freak, even if she felt like one in a town known by some for its oddities. Jean smiled through her tears and repeated her last words; this time completely necessary if only to validate the girl. She pulled Linda close and hugged her, stroking her hair like a mother would for a daughter. Linda looked into her eyes and saw the mother’s love she desperately needed. Not just reluctant acceptance like her own mother provided but real acceptance. She began to sob; almost without sound, but shaking enough to nearly fall down. Jean redoubled her efforts and spoke softly in the girl’s ear.
“It’s just fine, Linda. You’re okay, alright?”
Even the woman’s demeanor spoke of seeking permission and wanting to encourage rather that to push or demand, which made the girl sob even more; relieved after nearly twenty years by finally knowing that she was loveable. The child in her wept even as the woman in her sighed contently. And she closed her eyes. Nothing wrong about how she felt; she saw the image of a very shy and sad girl… a girl maybe a lot like herself. She would learn that the girl was a lot like her, but entirely different than whom she supposed her to be.
Good mornin',
Good mornin'!
We've talked the whole night through,
Good mornin'
Good mornin' to you.
Marnie’s room, two-twenty-seven AM…
“Mawnie?” Rita pushed the slightly ajar door further in and peered into the darkness of the room.
“Yes?” Marnie was tired and afraid and confused, and mostly nothing anyone could say would make those feelings go away. But Rita was different if entirely similar to Marnie in that they both had been damaged badly by rejection and they both cared a lot about how others felt.
“I just wanted to check on you…see how you’re doin’, okay?” She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, barely missing sitting on a stuffed dog that Marnie kept close. Bark Gable, she called him. Rita picked up the stuffed animal and began a playful if entirely unfamiliar routine by having the dog ‘talk.’
“Mistah Gable, how’s my girl here doin’?” She spoke to the dog instead of Marnie. Before Marnie could answer, Rita continued the dialogue, holding the stuffed dog and making his head move up and down.
“Well, Miss Contaldi, she’s been very, very sad. I think she’s afraid.” Rita said in a lower-pitched near-growl.
“I’m sorry to hear that. My friend Louise told me the other day that her brother …Sorry…her sister is just like Marnie. It’s really too bad, but it must be hard.” Marnie smiled weakly; appreciative but still overwhelmed.
“Her sister read about a guy in Sweden....” She nodded enthusiastically at the stuffed dog and continued.
“Had an operation and everything. That must have hurt like hell.” Rita broke character with a wry laugh before resuming.
“It was in some magazine….” She looked away from the stuffed animal to find Marnie wide-eyed in surprise.
“You should go see that doctor, hon. Maybe there’s hope for at least one of us.” Rita turned away, feeling far away from the encouragement she had just given Marnie. The girl touched her arm and beckoned for her to join her in bed; nothing sexual about it, Rita climbed under the covers and cuddled with her best friend. They talked and cried and they talked much more until they both fell asleep.
Good mornin', good mornin'!
It's great to stay up late,
Good mornin', good mornin' to you.
MGM Stage II, much later that morning…
“Hey kid, come here?” The bright eyed man waved to Marnie. She walked quickly onto the set; the house scene for the Good Morning number.
“Yes, Mr. O’Conner, I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, lowering her head just a little.
“Debbie is held up on another set for a few and we just have to block the beginning of the shot,” another voice spoke from behind.
“Oh, Mr. Kelly,” she practically swooned. He grabbed her hand and led her over to the window in the fake kitchen. She turned slightly and Donald grabbed her hand as well.
“Now don’t worry about the dancing; we’ve got that okay. We just want to go over the first few lines before the number to get the timing down. You can do this. I believe in you.” Marnie wasn’t the first girl on the set that caught the eye of the men. They weren’t like a lot of guys in the business, but they did like to flirt. Donald pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it, but with a decidedly silly face. She had watched him perform throughout the shooting and knew what a kidder he was.
“Okay…I say…blah blah blah….March 23rd is my lucky day and Cosmo says …blah blah blah….it’s March 24th…it’s morning…. And you say?” He stared at her waiting for her response. Like many girls in the business, being a script girl was like being handed a dream written down one line at a time. She knew the script by heart.
“And…what a lovely morning?” She put her head down slightly again.
“That’s where we say….Happy Birthday!!!!” Kelly and O’Conner said in unison along with Debbie Reynolds and the crew and Jean Hagen who walked out from behind the set.
“Happy Birthday, Marnie.” She held a sheet cake with one lit candle.
“Go ahead, kid. Make a wish!” She winked once, which escaped Marnie totally. She spoke again, her winking very obvious.
“Make a wish… Maybe a wish of a life time.” She stepped closer and used her eyes to draw attention to the cake, which was in pink frosting with words that read,
“ Happy Birthday wishes to Marnie Svenson from all of us.”
She blew out the candle and her face grew red and hot. Doug Fowley, the actor playing the director of Dueling Cavalier, came up and kissed her on the cheek. One by one cast and crew stepped forward with hugs and kisses and handshakes. At the very last, Jean Hagen stepped up and hugged the girl and handed her an envelope.
“Happy Birthday, Miss Svenson.” She chirped in her Lena voice before settling into her soft alto tones.
“A few of us thought this might help on a rainy day,” she laughed softly at the irony of the moment, given the title of the movie. Marnie opened the envelope to find a lot of cash; some crinkled and given on the spur of the moment, along with more than several crisp new twenties.
“It’s just fine,” Jean said, hugging the girl again. She had said that to another only a few days before. She turned and nodded her head and Linda walked up. Certainly not a stranger on the set, she still seemed unfamiliar to Marnie, but in an oddly comfortable way.
“I wanted to say Happy Birthday to you as well.” She went to step back but Jean arched one eyebrow and mouthed, ‘go ahead.’ Linda remained stock still. Looking around, Jean noticed that all of the cast and crew had walked off; likely to lunch, leaving the three of them alone but for one of the set dressers pushing a sofa into position on the marks on the floor.
“Go ahead.” Jean spoke aloud.
“Happy B..Birthday,” Linda stammered, stepping into a very awkward hug with Marnie.
“T…thanks.” Marnie stepped back; her face had reddened once again. She looked at Jean as if to say, ‘what do I do?’ Jean nodded and smiled.
“I’ve got to make a phone call. Say…here’s a thought.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a set of car keys.
“The dark blue Chrysler outside Studio I. Why don’t you two run out for lunch, my treat. Fanellis’, you know? You can tell Vito that I sent you. It’ll be my birthday gift, okay?” As if she hadn’t already given enough. Before they could respond she had turned and walked off, leaving them feeling more awkward than ever.
“What…what should we do?” Marnie stared at Linda; noticing for the first time how amazingly deep blue the girl’s eyes were. A slight bump on the bridge of the nose and a scar on her upper lip. What some might consider plain or unattractive, Marnie noted that the features added character to an already pretty face. Whatever she was going to do with the increasingly uneasy feelings she was having, she didn’t want to insult the girl. And Marnie kept telling herself that she was a girl, and girls don’t like girls; missing both the irony of her own identification and the realization that she actually was having feelings.
“I guess we should go to lunch?” Linda looked away, embarrassed at the suggestion. As awkward and afraid and even a bit ashamed as Marnie was feeling, she answered quickly.
“O..Okay…” Her voice trailed off and she blew out a very troubled breath before feeling Linda grab her hand; a gesture that was totally foreign to both girls, but would prove to be entirely real. In a word, they both felt fine….
When the band began to play
The sun was shinin' bright.
Now the milkman's on his way,
It's too late to say goodnight.
So, good mornin', good mornin'!
Sunbeams will soon smile through,
Good mornin', good mornin', to you…
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the rain
Birnbaums’ Deli and Restaurant…near UCLA…
Rita looked out the front window and was surprised to see a very rare if heavy downpour that seemed to wash the streets clean. Almost daydreaming, she sighed as she watched the people out front scurry quickly for shelter under the restaurant awning.
“Miss?” The man beckoned Rita to come. She walked over and pulled the pen from behind her ear and grabbed the check book from her apron.
“Somethin’ else? We’ve got some nice rice pudding.” The man shook his head.
“No, thanks. Maybe a cup of coffee, come to think of it, but…” He put his hand on her wrist gently, almost like a father would to encourage a sad child.
“My colleague and I were in here a few days ago. You mentioned you had a friend. We have a study going on, and I think it would be good if your friend participated.” He pulled out his business card and handed it to her; she had given his card to Marnie the other day.
“Sure thing….” She paused, trying to remember his name.
“Rosenthal….Sydney Rosenthal.”
“Thank you, Dr. Rosenthal,” Rita said in an effort to dignify the man’s office. He smiled and placed his hand on her wrist again. Rita had dealt with a lot of customers who had gotten familiar, but this touch was different. He shook his head.
“Do you have your high school diploma?” He tilted his head and displayed what you might call a whimsical expression. She bit her lip and glanced sideways in thought. She nodded, looking puzzled.
“We…my colleagues and I…we don’t often get people who are interested in the success of others. I’ve got a whole classroom of kids in one of my classes who seem to be in it just to get a grade and get ahead.” He paused before adding,
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But to find someone who is so obviously looking out for others…well.” He paused again. Rita wondered where this was going. She didn’t feel at all like the man described which was par for her course, as her uncle would say. She shook her head no.
“Seriously…Miss?” He looked at her with wide eyes, tilting his head slightly to the left.
“Oh… Rita Contaldi.”
“Miss Contaldi? The people at our school …the school of Psychology? We’re looking for people who care, and you strike us as someone who does care. We’d like to offer you a slot in our fall classes… undergraduate in Psychology, if you don’t mind?” At twenty-five, Rita had consigned herself to waitressing…..at best. Old habits called to her from her past; ‘you’re stupid,’ and ‘you’ll never amount to anything.’ The last one, ‘You’re a cheap whore, just like your mother,’ brought her to tears, which in turn brought her to embarrassment. She felt his hand grab hers. A gentle squeeze.
“A very wise man once told me that it doesn’t matter where you come from; only where you’re going. I think we can scrape some money together …money won’t be a problem, Miss Contaldi.” She blew out a breath as she took in what he had just said.
“Think about it, okay. You don’t have to decide right now. We come in here all the time, and we may be a bit pushy, but I think that you’ve never had anyone tell you that you’re smart or kind or good.” She nodded silently, blinking back tears.
“I want you to understand something, okay? I’ve seen a lot of girls just like you.” She cringed at the phrase, feeling entirely condemned. He shook his head no.
“No, Miss Contaldi….I’ve seen a lot of girls like you…girls who were told they were no good; told they were bad somehow… damaged goods. You’re not bad, Miss Contaldi. Only hurt. But you don’t have to stay hurt.” He rose and stepped around the table.
“You’ll be just fine, Miss Contaldi.” And then he did something; awkward enough if they had been alone or on the off-hour with few customers. The restaurant was crowded, which added to her apprehension and fear as he stepped close and hugged her. The first time in her life that a man had been that close and sought nothing for himself and everything for her. She put her hand to her face, barely covering the confused expression on her face.
“Think about it, okay?” Dr. Rosenthal squeezed her hand once again before picking up the check. Looking at it he pulled out some money and placed it under the plate before walking out. Rita looked up to see him slip through the doorway. As she tried to gather herself she felt a tug on the tie to her apron behind her. She turned to see an elderly couple. She tilted her head in question. The woman smiled at her and spoke.
“We overheard. He’s right, you know.” Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her eyes welled with tears.
“Our Nancy would have been about your age. You have that look about you; like you don’t give up without a fight. Nancy fought hard right up to the day she died. I hope you listen to the Doctor. I bet you can do it, you know?” The man smiled, blinking back his own tears as he squeezed his wife’s hand. She looked up and smiled once again and spoke.
“Like he said, child. You’ll do just fine.”
I'm singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love
Meanwhile, at Fanelli’s Restaurant, West Hollywood…
The waiter placed their food on the table and winked at both girls; ‘Marco,’ his name tag said; a young man who wasn’t averse to flirting. The girls nodded and he walked away feeling somewhat in awe of himself, even if the girls weren’t at all interested. They happened to be seated by the front window, but they were so absorbed in hiding in a crowded restaurant that they paid no heed to the downpour just on the other side of the glass.
“I’ve…I’ve never been in such a nice place,” Linda said, her head down. She took a bite of her veal, wondering what it would have cost if she had to pay, since the owner knew Jean Hagen and their meal was on her credit. Marnie said nothing but an ‘um hmm;’ her own head down in somewhat awkward embarrassment. The other diners seemed to be oblivious to them even as they felt entirely out of place.
“That was very nice of Miss Hagen…don’t you think?” Linda said and Marnie offered the same wordless comment once again. A second later Marnie felt Linda touch her hand. She pulled it away quickly and grabbed her water glass as if that was what she had meant to do all along. Linda touched her other hand and she went to pull it away, but found that Linda had gripped her wrist.
“We’re not gonna get out of first gear if we don’t shift.” An expression her father told her that fit almost everything in life in addition to learning how to drive.
“I don’t know about you, but this is so damned scary.” She said and Marnie lifted her head slightly to reveal a face filled with apprehension. She was biting her lip, and would have thrown her hand up in front of her face like some damsel in distress in one of the old silent movies. Not horrified, but scared none the less. And a bit of shame mixed in for good measure. Her frown….one of several ‘I’m not worthy’ expressions in her repertoire, seemed to beg for Linda to let go. She looked around at the other tables; the diners were involved in their own conversations about their own lives and didn’t seem to notice the two girls sitting in their midst.
“I’m not a kid, Miss Svenson.” An odd bit of formality that pushed the girl away slightly even as Linda continued to grip Marnie’s wrist. She leaned closer and whispered.
“If I don’t say something I’ll just kill myself.” She sighed. Marnie at one time had actually thought about the same choice, but not in some silly hyperbole, but actually considering it. She shook her head; not wanting to hear what Linda had to say. But say it, she did.
“If you don’t like me….if you don’t even like girls, I understand, but…” It was Linda’s turn to be cautious. She bit the inside of her mouth, hoping to spur herself.
“I….I never thought about it before. You…” The girl’s face began to grow hot. She took a gulp of water and tried to continue, but all she could do was stammer ‘you.’
“Before we go any further…” Linda sputtered and faked a cough, as if that would conceal her own nervousness. She went on.
“I’ve never…I didn’t even think I did, either.”
“Either….either what?” Marnie asked nervously.
“Like girls!” She said it loudly enough that one of the women at the table next to them hurrmpmhed, so to speak. It wasn’t that she ‘liked girls,’ so much as that she said it loudly enough to draw rude attention to herself, thus pulling the woman’s attention away from her self-absorbed chat with her friends.
“Yes…I guess I do,” Marnie stammered, answering a question Linda hadn’t asked. But she went on.
“I….I’m not….”
“You don’t have to like me, Miss Svenson. It’s perfectly okay.” Linda didn’t realize how much she wasn’t okay with that until the words left her mouth. She wanted Marnie to like her.
“NO…you don’t understand…. Oh gosh….” Marnie looked into Linda’s eyes; those dark blue eyes that seemed to capture Marnie’s soul, despite every denial and every barrier she put up. She sighed.
“I do….I do like you. I just don’t…. If you knew…” She put her head down. The diners around them had returned their attention to their own conversations and paid no heed to the girl’s nervous tones, which grew increasingly loud, as nervous words have a tendency to do.
“What? What can be so wrong?” Linda didn’t think anything was wrong; she just reflected what Marnie had just said. Still, awkward, first-time communication can often be misconstrued, which Marnie immediately did.
“I’m wrong…. I’m wrong.” She stood up suddenly, sending her water glass spilling all over the table.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” Marnie grabbed her purse.
“I’ll catch a bus….” She said and with that she ran out of the restaurant into the downpour. Linda sat at the table. Her veal was awash with the water from Marnie’s glass. She looked out the front window in time to see Marnie boarding the bus and a moment later the girl was gone. Linda looked down at her plate and shook her head, but the ruined meal was the furthest thing from her mind. She looked out once again to notice the rain was letting up. Her attention was drawn to the bus stop where only moments before Marnie had stood.
“Can I get you anything else?” The waiter asked as he began to clear the table.
“No…I think I’ve had enough for one day.” Linda was a pretty together person most of the time. Today wasn’t among those times as she put her elbows on the table and cradled her head as she dissolved into tears.
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the rain
I told myself it was ridiculous
A silly adolescent or more
I argued the cost
I argued and lost
MGM Stage II…a few days later…
It had been a dance of sorts as both girls tried desperately to avoid any contact; eyes or otherwise. Linda was sad and worried that she had opened herself up; more so than at any other time in her life, only to be rejected. Marnie was convinced that she was as horrible a person as anyone could imagine; the feelings of being ‘wrong’ that her mother had instilled in her that she had tried all along to set aside came back with an almost vengeance. Two unworthy girls looking at each other on the sly, as they say; too painful to see hopes that only materialized the other day being blown away like mist on a windy day. But too painful not to look; drawn carefully along through the storm; protected despite the torrent of self-hate and shame both felt.
“Linda? Can I see you in my dressing room for a minute,” Jean said softly as she walked off the set. Linda of course would do anything for her idol and friend. She followed quickly along, anticipating some new wardrobe change.
“Sure, Miss Hagen,” she yelled after her as Jean entered the dressing room. She followed quickly after and was shocked to see Marnie seated at the vanity, turned around to face the open door. She might as well have been tied to the chair for her posture; looking as if she was a child sitting in the corner as punishment for some unidentified offense. It was an offense, of sorts, but to herself and to Linda as well. Jean walked over to her and spoke; not a whisper, but a quiet word of encouragement.
“You have to tell her, sweetie. I know it looks bad, but believe me; I’ve seen bad, and this isn’t it unless you let it be”
Marnie looked up and over at Linda, who was standing stock still in the doorway. She looked back at Jean, who smiled that welcoming, accepting smile she had given as a gift to Marnie almost from the start.
“I can’t…I just can’t.” Marnie was in tears and would have bolted from the room but for the gentle hand that held her down.
“I know you can. You owe it to yourself to try. There are no rules here; we write the script the way we see things. Trust yourself, honey, okay?” She nodded and turned around, walking to the door where Linda stood.
“That song I sang the other day, ‘Would you?’ What you see others enjoy…would you? It fits here….you have to ask yourself if you dare to be loved, kid. This play has been cast, and you two are the stars, no matter what anyone has ever said to you. I’m going to go over to the sitters and spend some time with Aric; he’s been missing me and I’ve been missing my baby. I’m going to lock this door behind me. Nobody needs to know where you are, so take your time.” She leaned closer and kissed the girl on the cheek before turning back to Marnie. She motioned by clasping her hands together and glancing back and forth between the two girls. She smiled and waved before placing her hand on the door latch. A moment later she was gone.
And now of one thing I am sure
You are my lucky star
I saw you from a far
Two lovely eyes at me, they were gleaming, beaming,
I was star struck
“I’m sorry for being so rude the other day.” Marnie said, facing away, but catching a peek of Linda in the vanity mirror. The girl wasn’t staring at her but neither was she looking away. The impact of the view struck Marnie as hard as any impression she ever had. She felt unworthy still, yes, but something inside of her wanted to be worthy; a first of sorts. She turned around and faced Linda and gazed at her. In the security of the dressing room, locked away from convention and expectations and the demands of others, something felt safe for the first time....for both girls as their gazes locked.
“You….you’re sad for some reason. I’m very sorry.” Marnie knew immediately that Linda wasn’t apologizing, but instead expressing an understanding as much as she could without any explanation; an explanation Marnie determined that Linda deserved, no matter what.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“I don’t know you enough to think about who you are.” Linda shrugged her shoulders in frustration.
“I’m not even what you think I am….. This is…..” Her voice trailed off.
“Jean said you had a secret, but that only you could tell me….that you needed to tell ME.” She patted her chest.
“I’m afraid.” Marnie couldn’t believe she had shared even that little bit of information. And she appeared very afraid to Linda, so it wasn’t a secret at all.
“I’ve never been with a girl before.” Linda stammered; her willingness to open up and be honest almost pushed Marnie away with an example of candor Marnie felt she couldn’t approach.
“I….” It was the most desperate moment in Marnie’s life, no matter what transpired or what decisions she would make from that moment on. She took a breath and sighed, saying,
“I’m not a girl….not a woman….do you understand?” She didn’t cry, but her nostrils flared and her face grew hot with shame. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized she had just condemned herself yet again to a life that merited only pain and sadness. Linda looked down, searching for the words that would answer the girl and even answer herself.
“You’re…” She didn’t finish the question, but the expression on her face, coupled with a growing stare at Marnie’s body spoke for her.
“Yes….” Marnie stammered and burst into tears. Something that she had wanted since she was six became a curse to her. She put her hand to her face; not in drama, but in real helplessness.
“I…I ….” Linda matched the staccato of Marnie’s sobs with her own halting words before continuing.
“I don’t care.” Not the ‘I don’t care’ both girls heard from uncaring mothers and siblings. Not a neglectful damning but instead the ‘I don’t care’ that speaks of ‘no matter what, I don’t mind because you’re too important.’ Linda shook her head, surprised at the words that escaped her lips. Marnie’s eyes grew wide in brand new recognition. She had put her head down, but a very timid and tearful ‘really’ came from her own lips; that too good to be true but dear god I hope it is true ‘really?’
“Yes.” Neither had noticed but they had steadily been inching toward each other when their intents had been just the opposite. Marnie lifted her head enough to notice that the two were nearly face to face. She shook her head once again as Linda tilted her head slightly sideways and stepped closer.
You are my lucky charms
I'm lucky in your arms
You've opened heavens portal
Here on earth for this poor mortal
You are my lucky star…
Sometime later…
A soft knock came at the dressing room door. A moment later the two stood at the doorway and greeted a very content looking Jean Hagen; a woman who was only a few years older than both, she still displayed a smile and a glow in her eyes reserved for proud parents.
“I’m sorry…. They want to reshoot part of the Singing Cavalier scene. Do you think it would be okay if I used my dressing room?” She laughed softly as both girls grew very red in an instant. She put her hands on both girls’ arms and smiled.
“But I can change over in the girl’s room.”
“Nnnno….Miss Hagen….that’s okay,” Marnie said haltingly even as her hand touched her cheek to feel the warmth of embarrassment mixed with relief.
“Well, then, that’s great. You can stay while Linda helps, if you like?” Marnie nodded, speechless. Linda shook her head at the wonder of the moment.
“I…You….You knew….you knew it would be alright.”
“Of course. I looked at the two of you and I knew it would be just fine.” She winked at the two girls and laughed softly before welcoming the two of them into a big, motherly hug.
“Just fine indeed.”
Linda and Marnie, 1952
You are my lucky charms
I'm lucky in your arms
You've opened heavens portal
Here on earth for this poor mortal
You are my lucky star…
Afterword
Singing in the Rain was released in 1952 to great reviews and fair box office success. It helped strengthen the reputation of Gene Kelly as both director and producer, leading to his success with An American In Paris, along with several other musicals.
The movie marked the breakout role for Debbie Reynolds; a lass who more than held her own with two very talented Irishmen; Kelly and Donald O’Conner. She would go onto star in musicals and comedies that were box-office and critical hits as well. O’Conner proved to be a big favorite in television as well as musicals and even a dramatic role or two.
Jean Hagen? As a little kid, we used to watch a show; Make Room for Daddy, which starred Danny Thomas. Jean Hagen played his wife for the first few seasons. A contract dispute led to her character ‘dying’ and being replaced by another actress. But for those few moments when the TV wasn’t turned to the obligatory after-school cartoons, I would sneak looks at Jean and wondered what it would be like to be a nice woman just like her. She was never a big star, and her off-screen life was overshadowed by years of an sadly abusive marriage despite two wonderful kids. She died in 1977 at the age of 54 and until I began to write this story, I had no idea why I wept at the hearing of her passing. Now I know.
Linda and Marnie and Rita are children of mine; their lives portraying them also as children of their times. Roberta Cowell was only one year removed from her own reassignment surgery and most people only heard of Christine Jorgensen late in 1952, months after this story takes place. But in 1952, there were the beginnings of research at UCLA regarding gender dysphoria. Marnie might gain that help she needed, but any physical culmination would have been unlikely, even with the help of friends like Jean and others. But that doesn’t say that she wouldn’t have lived her life as she wished.
It would have been hard, even in a place as ‘progressive’ as Hollywood, for Linda and Marnie to succeed together; women weren’t held in the highest regard, as I’ve shown. And while the gay actor might have been given a pass, any relationship between two women like Linda and Marnie would not have the same support. But they would have moved heaven and earth to be together.
Rita is also a child of her generation; the girl who grew up with the labels and catcalls and utter disrespect who likely sought out someone to love her for real; that desperate search that led to nowhere. And kind gentlemen like Dr. Rosenthal, while rare, still might have given a girl ‘like her’ a chance. And ‘girls like her’ would find a place in the world that included love and acceptance as well.
We’ve come so far since 1952, but in so many ways we have so far to go as well. I’ve done my best to portray the good that can come of life, and I trust that my little tale has provided you with a measure of hope. Thanks for reading.
All I Do Is Dream of Your
Words and music by
Written by Arthur Freed
and Nacio Herb Brown
as performed by
Miss Judy Garland
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQZd5sjHzgQ
You Were Meant For Me
Words and Music by
Arthur Freed and
Nacio Herb Brown
As performed by
Gene Kelly
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUql3hgHpMU
Moses Supposes
Words and music by
Roger Edens
Performed by
Gene Kelly and
Donald O’Conner
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tciT9bmCMq8
Good Morning
Words and music by
Arthur Freed and
Nacio Herb Brown
As performed by
Gene Kelly, Donald O’Conner and
Debbie Reynolds
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qu4v5hB1dKk
Singing in the Rain
Words and music by
Arthur Freed and
Nacio Herb Brown
As performed by
Debbie Reynolds
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmCpOKtN8ME
You Are My Lucky Star
Words and music by
Arthur Freed and
Nacio Herb Brown
As performed by
Miss Debbie Reynolds
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bi1cp7nNKpA
Comments
Great Story 'Drea
It's nice to be able to read it in one swell foop.
Portia
How Did I Miss It
Yes, such a lovely story, and so typically 'Drea, with smiles and tears mixed together,
Joanne