In 1939, Shirley Temple lost the part of Dorothy in MGM’s The Wizard of Oz. Although she was the foremost child star of the day, her singing was no match for the vocal talents of Judy Garland. In an attempt at consolation, her contracted studio, Twentieth Century Fox, gave Shirley the lead in The Blue Bird, a fantasy musical co-starring Gale Sondergaard (who had turned down the role of the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz on objections to the hideous makeup). The film presented little Shirley in the role of a bratty child. The role didn’t sit well with the movie-going public and after six years as America’s Sweetheart, Shirley was faced with her first bonafide flop. Six months later, Fox released Young People, another flop for the twelve-year-old movie veteran. It was her last film for Fox. Shirley announced her retirement from show business to attend the exclusive Westlake School for Girls. Her retirement was short-lived, however, as MGM coaxed her back to the screen to star in Kathleen in 1941. It, too, flopped and Shirley severed ties with MGM after mutual consent. Shirley went on to appear in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer and Fort Apache, two successful pictures among a crop of clunkers until she retired again - this time for good - in 1950.
Four-year-old Caryll Ann Ekelund appeared in a small role as an unborn child in Heaven in a sequence in The Blue Bird. Despite her brief screen time, director Walter Lang and producer Darryl F. Zanuck felt she showed potential and promise as a young actress. On Halloween 1939, little Caryll was excitedly preparing for an evening of fun with friends in her Beverly Hills neighborhood, when her costume caught fire from a jack o’lantern that was displayed on her home’s front porch. She received severe first and second-degree burns and died in the hospital four days later.
Caryll was buried in the toga-like costume she wore in The Blue Bird and a graveside choir sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, her favorite song.
This week’s Illustration Friday challenge word is “grounded”.
Benjamin Franklin’s experiments with electricity were all failures until he got the kite properly grounded.
As a visitor and patient of John Harvey Kellogg’s Battle Creek Sanitarium, C.W. Post was impressed and inspired to start his own cereal company. Concerned with his own health, Post invented a cereal alternative to coffee that he dubbed “Postum”. Postum was made from wheat bran, wheat, molasses, and maltodextrin from corn. It was never presented as a coffee substitute. Instead, it was marketed as a healthful, caffeine-free alternative. The beverage was slow to catch on at first, but became increasingly popular among those worried about the negative effects of caffeine. The Mormon culture endorsed Postum due to their abstention from coffee. During World War II, Postum enjoyed a huge rise in popularity as the population sought a replacement for government-rationed coffee.
In 1897, Post introduced another of his inventions - Grape Nuts cereal. Originally marketed as “brain food”, Grape Nuts became a popular breakfast food, owning to its unique flavor and texture, although it contains no grapes and no nuts.
As Post’s business increased, he introduced more varieties of cereals, including his own corn flakes, first called “Elijah’s Manna”, then later Post Toasties. Post was one of the first companies to offer a discount coupon as enticement to try their product. Through advertisements, a “One Penny Off” certificate was made available to the public.
As his business grew, Post amassed one of the largest fortunes of the early Twentieth century. However, in late 1913, his declining health forced him to cancel public appearances. In 1914, convinced he was suffering from stomach cancer, Post committed suicide by gunshot. His only child, 27-year-old Marjorie Merriweather Post, inherited his company and his fortune. (Marjorie went on to marry financier E.F. Hutton. Their daughter is actress Dina Merrill.)
This week’s Illustration Friday challenge word is “highlight”.
When I was a kid in the early 1960s, a trip to the family doctor was a dreaded thing. I did my best to hide every sniffle or stomachache, lest I be subjected to some poking and prodding from that creepy, bespectacled guy with the stethoscope around his neck and the unnaturally cold hands. A hard tongue depressor down the throat or the possibility of some sort of needle didn’t add favorably to the experience. The only glimmer of joy involved with a doctor’s visit was the promise of a few minutes perusing the pages of Highlights for Children.
While my mom thumbed through an old issue of Good Housekeeping or Redbook, I would eagerly select a copy of Highlights for Children from several strewn across a low table in the waiting room. Then, I would happily bide my time trying to figure out “what’s wrong with this picture” in a drawing on the back cover. Inside, the issue was jammed with jokes and riddles, a page of hidden objects camouflaged throughout a jungle scene, the continuing adventures of the oddly-drawn Timbertoes family and my favorite — Goofus and Gallant.
Goofus and Gallant were two young boys who offered lessons in manners and responsibility through their contrasting actions. As their descriptive names indicated, Goofus was the self-centered, selfish sneak with no consideration for family and classmates. Gallant was the cheerful, helpful little priss who regularly earned praise from adults and was often named “Teacher’s Pet”. The lessons that Goofus and Gallant taught in the 60s were geared toward completing homework or sharing your toys.
I haven’t seen an issue of Highlights for Children in nearly four decades, as my wife usually took our son to the pediatrician when he was little. (He made it a point to get sick after I had already left for work.) I imagine the subject matter for Goofus and Gallant had to change with the times, while becoming more direct in its approach. Here’s how I envision Goofus and Gallant today…
Click illustration for a larger version.
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A footnote to this post:
This time last year, I made a resolution to create one million illustrations in 2011.
I fell 999,851 short.
