Like The Great Escape, The Wizard of Oz was one of those movies that always seemed to be on telly around Christmas time when I was a kid. Nowadays, I can’t watch John Sturges’ POW classic without feeling the urge to eat a large plate of turkey sandwiches. Similarly, the eye-popping Technicolor of Victor Fleming’s family favourite is associated in my mind with the wrappings of Quality Street chocolates, and the gaudy baubles on our Christmas tree before my parents got all tasteful about their decorations!
The adventures of Dorothy and Toto remain remarkably fresh for an 85-year-old movie and its core message chimes so well around the festive period. Like It’s a Wonderful Life and Die Hard, two other Christmas classics that aren’t specifically about Christmas, it’s a story about realising what you’ve really got and making your way home to family and friends.
This is why I think The Wizard of Oz resonates so warmly during a special time of year, and it has been that way since the film first aired on TV in the United States over the holiday season in the mid-1950s. Over the years, it has become one of the most beloved family classics of all time, its songs and iconography deeply embedded in popular culture.
Yet this evergreen fantasy, so redolent of the Golden Age of Hollywood at its most lavish (Gone With the Wind also came out the same year), had a troubled production. Eleven screenwriters were involved, the shoot was fraught with dangerous mishaps, and its stars certainly suffered for their place in cinematic history. Let’s take a look at some of the stories behind the making of an all-time great.
Origins of The Wizard of Oz
Lyman Frank Baum, born in 1856, had an eventful and not entirely successful career as a theatre manager, store owner, newspaper magnate, and writer before finally striking gold with the novel for which he will always be remembered: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The book was an instant success when it first hit shelves in 1900 and Baum followed up with 13 more adventures set in his beloved fantasy world. It wasn’t long before the book was adapted into other mediums: A Broadway production followed in 1901 and Baum himself produced several live-action silent films based on his works. The author passed away in 1919, six years before the first feature-length version with Oliver Hardy playing the Tin Woodman.
In 1937, Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs became the highest-grossing sound production of all time, prompting Louis B. Mayer of MGM to throw his considerable weight behind a spectacular new version of Baum’s children’s novel. WIth its stable of stars, MGM was a movie-making monster churning out around 50 pictures a year throughout the 1930s, although it never reached its goal of one a week. Now no expense would be spared on The Wizard of Oz - with its budget of $2.8 million (around $64 million in today’s money) it was one of the costliest films ever made at the time. But for all MGM’s apparently infinite resources, the production of the beloved family classic was chaotic and dangerous, spawning numerous hair-raising tales and outright myths.
Judy Garland became a huge star - at a price
After Judy Garland died in 1969, Liza Minnelli and her other children would reminisce about how their mother fondly remembered her time making The Wizard of Oz. The real truth was glossed over, most notably in MGM’s saccharine making-of documentary from 1989, presented in glowing terms by Angela Lansbury. Sadly, Garland’s treatment behind the scenes had far-reaching consequences that plagued her until the end of her life.
MGM’s new production of Oz was big news at the time. Shirley Temple, one of the studio’s biggest stars, seemed like a shoo-in to play Dorothy, but there was a problem – her singing voice wasn’t very strong. Instead, MGM turned to Judy Garland, who was destined for stardom from an early age and had formed an immensely popular duo with fellow teen Mickey Rooney.
Dubbed the “little hunchback” by Louis B. Mayer, Garland was considered chubby, not particularly pretty, and too old for the role at 16. Nevertheless, she was put on a strict diet and strapped into a corset to disguise her breasts as Dorothy. Furthermore, after her mother had forced her to take uppers and downers since her early career as a child star, Garland was also pumped with drugs to help her push through the demands of filming the ambitious picture.
Prefiguring the transgressions of Harvey Weinstein by several decades, the casting couch method and routine sexual harassment of female actors was unfortunately a big feature of the Hollywood studio system in the ‘20s and ‘30s. Judy Garland was reportedly groped by Mayer himself and stories persisted that some of the little people playing the Munchkins also behaved inappropriately towards the young star.
But Garland was nothing if not a trouper and her hardships on set didn’t stop her producing one of the most memorable and heartfelt performances of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She was overlooked at the Oscars but received an Academy Juvenile Award, the now-defunct equivalent of the Academy Awards for children and young people. The Wizard of Oz was her major breakthrough role and she went on to have a hugely successful career as an actor and performer, although a grown-up Oscar eluded her – she was nominated twice, for A Star is Born and Judgement at Nuremberg.
Who will play the Wonderful Wizard of Oz?
Three names were initially in the frame to play Baum’s great and fearsome wizard who turns out to be not quite as grand as he claims. Radio star Ed Wynn turned it down because he thought the role was too small while prolific actor Wallace Beery, who had won an Oscar for The Champ five years earlier, couldn’t get released from other projects.
MGM’s preferred choice was W.C. Fields, the unruly former vaudevillian with a penchant for booze and colourful nom de plumes. He had broken into films during the silent era but found greater success in the 1930s, where the talkies gave him a chance to develop his shtick with the addition of his trademark drawl and rambling tall stories. Known for ad-libbing and making up scenes as he went along, he played it uncharacteristically straight as Mr. Micawber in David Copperfield. Fields was a huge fan of Dickens and his performance was one of the film’s highlights, attracting the attention of MGM for the role of the Wizard.
I would have loved to see Fields in that part. He often played hucksters and/or henpecked bumblers, which would have worked well with both sides of the Oz character. Unfortunately, he held out too long over contract negotiations and the studio gave the role to veteran character actor Frank Morgan instead – who, it must be said, is simply wonderful in his five different parts.
Munchkins Galore!
In L. Frank Baum’s book, Munchkins were dwarf-like characters who wore pointy hats and liked the colour blue. For Victor Fleming’s film, little people from far and wide came to Hollywood to play them, each dressed resplendently in candy-coloured costumes. There were 124 all told, one of the largest ever gatherings of little people on a studio lot. About 30 of them came from the Singer Midgets, a travelling troupe of European performers with Dwarfism who had fled to the United States to escape the murderous designs of the Nazis. Their number was bolstered by a casting call that brought others from all over America, some with professional backgrounds in vaudeville, dance, and even carnival freak shows.
Almost from the beginning, stories emerged about unsavoury behaviour among the large ensemble of little people, infamously perpetuated by Judy Garland. On a 1967 chat show, she said “They were drunks. They would get smashed every night and [the police] would pick ‘em up in butterfly nets.”
These tales have been countered by some of the performers themselves. Jerry Maren (pictured centre, below), the most visible Munchkin actor in the decades after the film, admitted things were lively and some of his fellows did like a drink, but that the stories of outrageous behaviour were largely overstated.
When discussing her mother’s stories, Liza Minnelli all but admitted that Garland had a tendency to exaggerate when she was in the flow. Her high-profile anecdotes about the Munchkin performers undoubtedly had a harmful effect on their reputation, although some bad apples needed to be removed from the cast, such as one character who had attempted to stab an assistant.
The truth is that if you gather 124 actors of any stature, there are likely to be some less likeable characters than others and a few who party hard enough for everyone present. Maren attributes the hi-jinx to high spirits, as some of the Munchkin actors hadn’t seen other little people before and the pay was far better than what they were used to. So with a few quid in their pockets and surrounded by people just like them, who could blame them for letting off steam when they got some down time? They worked hard enough for it - Maren also remembers that they were on set six days a week while filming their scenes.
Margaret Hamilton almost died a fiery death
Margaret Hamilton wasn’t the studio’s first pick to play the Wicked Witch of the West. Inspired by the svelte Evil Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, glamorous Gale Sondergaard was originally cast in the role – shots exist of her looking very appealing in her pointy hat and figure-hugging costume. However, she walked when it was decided to make the character a more traditionally ugly crone. This was where Hamilton came in, thanks to her distinctive features that (no disrespect) fit the bill more.
Hamilton worked as a kindergarten teacher before getting into acting and devoted herself to animal rights causes in later life, somewhat ironic for an actor whose most famous role involved scaring a young girl and threatening to kill her dog. She made her screen debut in 1933 and played a few dozen parts before landing the role that cemented her place in movie history – but it also proved almost fatal.
During a Munchkinland scene where the Wicked Witch shows up to hurl some threats at Dorothy, she disappears again in a puff of red smoke and flames. To achieve the effect, Hamilton had to drop through a trapdoor, but a delay didn’t give her a chance to get clear before the pyrotechnic effect. She suffered serious burns to one hand and her face and missed six weeks of filming while she recovered in hospital. She was left scarred for the rest of her life.
Hamilton’s stunt double, Betty Danko, was also left with permanent damage during a broomstick-riding sequence. A pipe used to emit smoke was disguised as the broomstick, but the device exploded under Danko and severely burned her legs, putting her in hospital for 11 days. A replacement stunt double, Alina Goodwin, escaped without any fiery mishaps.
By all accounts and her gracious TV interview appearances, Hamilton was a very sweet and gentle person. One of the unintended consequences of playing one of cinema’s most iconic villains was that kids were sometimes scared of her and wanted to know why she was so mean to Dorothy. In 1975 she appeared on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood to show kids how adults sometimes play dress-up in movies to become a scary character, but it’s all just make believe. It’s a lovely clip - you can check it out here.
The cowardly lion’s costume was maybe too realistic
When Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion costume went up for auction in 2014, a disturbing fact emerged: It was made from real lion pelt and fur. It’s probably safe to say that people weren’t so hot about the ethical treatment of animals back in 1939 as they are now, and the lot had an extra uncanny-valley factor as it was displayed with a life-like mask modelled from the actor’s son. Neither aspect put off bidders – it sold for over $3 million.
The Hanging Munchkin
This must be one of the weirdest myths surrounding any major Hollywood movie. The story goes that a Munchkin actor, either heart-broken or depressed about working conditions (depending on which version you hear) can be seen hanging in the rear of one scene.
The moment comes after Dorothy and the Scarecrow pick up the Tin Man in the woods and skip off along the Yellow Brick Road with a reprise of “We’re Off to See the Wizard.” In the background, silhouetted against the blue sky, is what appears to be a corpse swinging from a rope.
I have to admit that my blood ran cold when I first checked it out – it does genuinely look like someone swinging by their neck from a tree. Its prominence in the scene, centre frame in the distance, made me wonder how I never noticed it before on multiple viewings. But stories have always surrounded the unusual object and its strange motion.
Originally, the assumption was that a crew member had wandered onto set at the wrong moment, or even fallen out of a fake tree as the cameras rolled. But the story evolved with the rise of home entertainment as viewers could pause, rewind, and replay the scene for extra scrutiny. The grain of poor video copies only shrouded the true nature of the object even more and the story of the suicidal Munchkin took off in the early ‘90s.
The myth has since been debunked. There is no record of anyone dying during the production of The Wizard of Oz, on camera or otherwise, and some sources state that the actors playing the Munchkins weren’t even on set when the scene was filmed.
The matter would appear to have been cleared up with the release of the 50th Anniversary Edition, which was beautifully restored with a far sharper image. If you watch the scene in that version, it is obviously a large bird wandering around. As the production photo below shows, live animals were allowed to roam the set as they pleased to make it look like a more natural outdoor environment.
But that doesn’t quite square away what people saw in the older, grottier versions – how exactly does a bird create a shape that looks like someone dangling by their neck from a branch? As such, conspiracy theories continue online suggesting that the footage was swapped in to cover up the suicide. Detailed analysis by ALC Media suggests the original video upload that helped perpetuate the myth was a heavily-edited hoax.
The Tin Man almost died from toxic makeup
Sometimes people make fateful choices. Ray Bolger was originally cast to play the Tin Man while Buddy Ebsen was drafted in to play the Scarecrow. Bolger had vivid memories of his childhood favourite Fred Stone in the part on stage back in 1902, and credited Stone’s performance with inspiring him to become a comedian and song-and-dance man himself. He was still a good sport about it, and even trained Ebsen how to do the Scarecrow’s signature wobbly walk. Ultimately, Bolger asked if the actors could switch characters – the studio agreed and Ebsen didn’t really care either way. But it ended up disastrously for the easy-going actor.
The costume and makeup department at MGM tried several different methods of making the Tin Man appear metallic before landing on a solution, using white face paint before adding a layer of aluminium dust. Nine days into the shoot, Ebsen experienced breathing difficulties, which his daughter later claimed that the studio dismissed as a simple allergic reaction to the makeup.
It turned out to be more serious than that, however. Ebsen was suffering from a toxic reaction due to inhaling the metal sprinklings and was whisked off to hospital for two weeks as his lungs threatened to give out completely. In the meantime, he was replaced by Jack Haley (below) who gave the performance we all know and love. The makeup compound was quietly switched to aluminium paste, which had less harmful effects on the substitute actor, although Haley did suffer an eye infection from it.
Although there is no footage of Ebsen’s Tin Man, he is still present in the movie. He recorded all his songs in pre-production and it is his version of “We’re Off to See the Wizard” that can be heard in the movie.
The Munchkin Hotel
Now 100 years old, the Culver Hotel in Culver City, Los Angeles, pitches itself as an elegant historic landmark that is proud of its place in Tinseltown lore. Back in the ‘30s, it was at the heart of the Hollywood movie business with major studios, including MGM, right on the doorstep. It had many famous names in the register; Buster Keaton, Clark Gable, Greta Garbo, Lana Turner, and Frank Sinatra all slept there and John Wayne supposedly won the hotel from Charlie Chaplin in a poker game. Even President-to-be Dwight Eisenhower stayed for a while during his election campaign, but by far its most legendary guests are the Munchkin actors.
The five-story building was regarded as a skyscraper in its day and boasted 150 “modern apartments” which have since been converted into 46 more spacious rooms today. With over 100 little people to accommodate, it is rumoured that some of them slept three to a bed – this may be where some of the drunken orgy stories came from. Bunking up together must have been like an extended sleepover with buddies, so perhaps it did get a little raucous at times.
There is also the legend of a secret tunnel at the hotel used to shuttle gangs of Munchkins from their lodgings to the studio. In reality, it was more likely an underpass for pedestrians beneath the busy boulevard outside which was filled in during the 1970s.
The Culver Hotel was a filming location for Under the Rainbow, the dreadful 1981 comedy starring Chevy Chase, Carrie Fisher, and Jerry Maren in a small role. Loosely based on the shenanigans that supposedly went on at the hotel while the Munchkin actors stayed there, it is surely one of the most crass and disrespectful movies ever made. I don’t normally care what Rotten Tomatoes has to say, but it is telling that the film has a critic score of 0%.
Garland and the gang were showered with asbestos snow
The Tin Man’s makeup wasn’t the only toxic substance on set in The Wizard of Oz. Infamously, fake snow made from asbestos was used in the scene where Dorothy and the Lion fall asleep in the field of flowers. Due to its white colour, finely powdered chrysotile asbestos was used, making it even more hazardous for the actors as they were absolutely covered in the stuff.
The ill-effects of the carcinogen and so-called miracle fibre were already becoming known when cameras rolled on the movie, but it wouldn’t be fully banned until the 1980s. Using snow made from asbestos was common practice in Hollywood at the time, also used in films like White Christmas. For various reasons, newer methods would soon replace it. Chemical snow, made from fire extinguisher foam mixed with sugar and water, was invented for It’s a Wonderful Life – this novel substance flurried and drifted better and was far less harmful to humans.
The snow wasn’t the only thing made from asbestos on the film. The Wicked Witch’s broomstick was also made from the stuff, as was Ray Bolger’s Scarecrow costume. Thankfully, there is no indication that any of the actors suffered from harmful side effects despite their close proximity to the deadly substance.
So there you have it, some of the stories surrounding the making of The Wizard of Oz! Does it still hold up for you, and is it a Christmas staple in your household? Let us know!