Unforgettable in Every Way
With the hoopla surrounding the Academy Awards these days, it’s hard to believe that 50 years ago the Oscars were given out at a theater on Melrose Avenue. Betty Freeman was on hand that night when her husband won an Oscar for special effects.
Since its inception in 1929, the Academy Awards presentation has drawn increasing attention and attendance. By 1947 the event had outgrown the Grauman’s Chinese Theater and was moved to the massive Shrine Auditorium. For the next two years the 6,500 Shrine seats were filled. But, in 1949, an amazing thing happened.
The 21st Academy Awards show was held March 24, 1949, in a former movie house on Melrose near San Vicente Boulevard in West Hollywood right around the corner from Carl’s all-night market. It seemed strange even then. After all, 1948 was an important film year. For the first time, England dominated the awards with six Oscars. “Hamlet” won for best picture. Star Laurence Olivier was acclaimed best actor for his intense portrayal of the brooding Danish prince. Other notable films that year included “The Red Shoes” with Moira Shearer and the John Huston classic “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.”
So why the shrunken seating? The “Little Academy Theater,” after all, had only 980 seats, enough room for nominees, presenters and the press. And that’s it.
The Academy Awards were reduced to limited seating because of a rumor that the Oscars were given to major Hollywood studios who financially backed the ceremony, according to the academy and film historians. Suddenly MGM, 20th Century Fox, Warner Bros., Paramount and RKO withdrew their support, and the academy was left with no time to raise funds.
Their only choice was to schedule the awards in its own Little Academy, an old building that held academy business offices and a screening room. It was never meant to be used for the Academy Awards. But it happened.
I knew none of this.
In that year all I could think about was, ‘We’re going to the 21st Academy Awards!’ The invitation came to my husband, Charles L. Freeman, who was nominated for his special-effects work on “Portrait of Jennie,” a David O. Selznick production starring Ethel Barrymore, Joseph Cotten and Jennifer Jones. He rented a tuxedo, and I borrowed a mink stole to wear over my black party dress. With wrist-length gloves and a fragrance of Emeraude, I was ready. But of course it wasn’t that simple.
On the outside, I looked fine, but inside I was a volatile mix of anticipation and worry. Would he win? The thought bumped a steady beat, and I wondered how I could live until that moment. I looked at my husband. He was calm and had a slight smile on his face. There was no way to tell how he felt.
(The awards that year, by the way, were broadcast only on radio; the Oscar TV extravaganza didn’t start until 1953. And the 1949 ceremony was held on a Thursday night.)
Our instructions were to park in the Beverly Hills City Hall parking lot. We did, then joined the couples scurrying to shuttle limousines. As they loaded the cars, Elizabeth Taylor, then 16, brushed past me, and my tiny purse flew from my hand. Reaching for it, I touched her bouffant gown, a lovely silk taffeta.
She was smiling down at me, saying, “I’m sorry.” I saw the tiny flowers edging her neckline. Her violet eyes and ravishing smile were her only jewels. For me, the evening was already a success.
When our limousine passed the crowds lining Santa Monica Boulevard, we were stopped momentarily. One eager fan thrust her book and a pencil through the open window and begged my husband to sign. He did, then wondered aloud who she thought he was.
“Ralph Bellamy,” I answered. (I always felt there was a close resemblance.)
Our car eased up to the theater, and in moments we were mingling with the throng pouring in the two doors. My borrowed mink was smaller than, but compatible with, sable jackets, white mink coats that touched the ankles, fox fur stoles in red-gold, white and black. Furs were everywhere, glamorizing women and protecting them from the “chill” of sunny California.
Inside, the theater looked surprisingly small--a typical neighborhood show house, no more. The wife of another nominee from Selznick’s studio explained what had happened. I shrugged. So it wasn’t the Shrine. For me, it was a glorious opportunity. We would be sitting with the stars, close enough to hear them talk and see exactly how they looked. Nothing could match that.
Our seats were on the aisle, seventh row, in the middle of all that was happening. Such joie de vivre! Across the aisle, Shearer was holding court with admirers. Ronald Coleman and his wife walked down our aisle, and I strained to hear his voice, that romantic deep timbre that thrilled me in “A Tale of Two Cities.” I heard only a soft mumble as they passed. Maybe he had a cold or was saving his voice for later.
As always, my husband was very quiet. Now and then I whispered little tidbits, woman things. “Look to your right. Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Loretta Young. Isn’t her lace dress lovely!” He nodded. I called his attention to Celeste Holm, a knockout in a strapless gown with provocative cabbage decolletage.
People were still finding seats when Johnny Green’s orchestra began. The curtains opened on a stage of fluted white silk radiating from a gold Oscar mounted on a pedestal and reaching at least 20 feet high.
Robert Montgomery, dashing in tails, was our master of ceremonies. I remembered him in “Night Must Fall” as a deranged killer with a twisted smile, a man who carried a severed head in a black hatbox. Tonight his smile was endearing.
*
The awards began. The lights had been dimmed. What faces I could see were complacently smiling. Of course. They were actors playing their roles. It would be a shock if a star let out a yell, and said, “No way! I won that Oscar!” Maybe the awards evening was like a screen test and no one would dare fail. As for me, I wanted to behave properly and settled for clinging to the armrests and focusing on the time when they would announce awards for special effects.
Who would ever have dreamed Charles would be nominated? A man who began his film career as a night watchman sleeping on a cot in the old Charles Ray Studios. After years of night and day work as a projectionist and librarian, he became an assistant and finally an editor at Columbia, Paramount and now David O. Selznick International Pictures. For “Portrait of Jennie,” a team of six men from the department had been nominated.
In spite of my anxiety, I had a wonderful time listening to the winners and their acceptances. I’ll never forget Jane Wyman, who won as best actress for her performance as a deaf mute in “Johnny Belinda.” Receiving the Oscar, she laughed about getting an award for keeping her mouth shut. And Walter Huston, directed by his son John Huston, won for best supporting actor in “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.” “Many years ago,” he said, “I raised a son and I told him, ‘If you ever become a writer or director, please find a good part for your old man.’ ” Not only did the elder Huston win, but his son won awards for best director and for best screenplay.
Then our moment came, with Glenn Ford presenting the award for special effects. Ford read the names of the four nominees for special effects in “Deep Water” produced by 20th Century Fox, and then the six names of nominees from Selznick Pictures.
He was handed the envelope. (My heart stopped.)
“And the winners are: Paul Eagler, J. McMillan Johnson, Russell Shearman, Clarence Slifer, Charles Freeman and James Stewart for “Portrait of Jennie.”
I let out a squeal, gave my husband a hug, then stood applauding as he went up on the stage with the other five. The presentations were made, and each man came back with his own statue.
Who spoke? What was said? I can’t remember a word. My husband handed me his golden boy, and I held it tenderly against the mink stole. The two of them were symbols of this special evening. A statue representing years of work and dreams, and the borrowed fur, a reminder of a celebration that would become a lifetime memory.
Since that year, we have attended other Academy Awards, beautiful grandiose affairs, internationally televised. For a few years, awards were presented at the Pantages Theater, then at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. When the crystal-chandeliered Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in the L.A. Music Center became available in 1968, the Academy Awards were held there almost exclusively. But in recent years they have alternated, sometimes offering the larger seating of the “grand old dame,” the Shrine. (This year they’re at the Dorothy Chandler.)
As for the little theater used 50 years ago, when the academy moved to its new building on Wilshire Boulevard in 1975, the Writers Guild of America took it over for a few years until the guild opened its own larger quarters. No longer needed, the building was demolished. An empty field is all that is left.
Well, that’s not quite true. To those fortunate ones who were there that evening, and especially for those who took part in the ceremony, like my husband--who’s now 90 years old, by the way--that evening in the Little Academy holds a special place in our hearts.
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Staking Their Claims to Fame in ’49
Here are the 1948 Academy Award winners presented at the Little Academy Theater on March 24, 1949. (Note: Some of the categories don’t exist anymore.)
Picture: “Hamlet”
Actor: Lawrence Olivier, “Hamlet”
Actress: Jane Wyman, “Johnny Belinda”
Supporting Actor: Walter Huston, “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre”
Supporting Actress: Claire Trevor, “Key Largo”
Director: John Huston, “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre”
Cinematography, Black-and-White: “The Naked City,” William Daniels
Cinematography, Color: “Joan of Arc,” Joseph Valentine, William V. Skall and Winton Hoch
Writing (Story): “The Search,” Richard Schweizer and David Wechsler
Screenplay: “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” John Huston
Art Direction-Set Decoration, Black-and-White: “Hamlet,” Roger K. Furse and Carmen Dillon
Art Direction-Set Decoration, Color: “The Red Shoes,” Hein Heckroth and Arthur Lawson
Costume Design, Black-and-White: “Hamlet,” Roger K. Furse
Costume Design, Color: “Joan of Arc,” Dorothy Jeakins and Karinska
Sound Recording: “The Snake Pit,” 20th Century Fox Sound Department
Film Editing: “The Naked City,” Paul Weatherwax
Special Effects: “Portrait of Jennie,” Paul Eagler, J. McMillan Johnson, Russell Shearman, Clarence Slifer, Charles Freeman and James Stewart