Ida was leaning back comfortably on the upholstered chaise, but Maud still sat stiffly upright, ankles crossed. “She seemed to be very fond of him.”
“Frank Gumm was a lovely man—pretty to look at, and sweet as they come. ’Course, being the way he was didn’t make it any easier for them.” She dropped her voice and leaned forward as she said this, even though they were quite alone in the room.
“The way he was?”
She adopted a dramatic whisper. “The way I heard it, that family got chased out of town more than once. Frank Gumm owned several movie theaters, but he seemed to get on too well with the young male ushers.”
Maud took this in.
“Now, don’t get me wrong—nothing wrong with it, far as I can see. Just between you and me, a lot of our fans would be pretty disappointed to find out how many of our leading men prefer the gents to the ladies. Best-kept secret in Hollywood. But in Judy’s case, I think that family went through hard times—and she was so fond of that daddy of hers. She misses him, and it makes her come on too friendly to these older men. She’s looking for another daddy, but they’d rather be sugar daddies, if you catch my drift.”
Maud nodded. “I’m afraid I do.”
Ida slid her wristwatch around on its silver chain. “I better not stay in here too long. Somebody will be looking for me. Now, how is it that I can help you, Maud?”
“What can be done?” Maud said. “To protect that girl? Who should I speak to? What can I do?”
“I can sense you’re a good woman. But that’s not really how it works around here. There are thousands of girls who would trade places with Judy Garland in a heartbeat, right now, in spite of everything she endures. And there’s an army of mothers out there who would kill to have that chance for their daughters, even knowing the price it comes with. You know what I mean?”
“I certainly do.”
“I’m not a big fan of Ethel Gumm, but in a way you have to give her some credit. And you’ve got to give Judy credit, too. I don’t suppose they’d be better off dragging from one two-bit nightclub to the next trying to keep body and soul together.”
“My husband and I got our start in the theater. I have an idea of what that life is like. Quite a bit different when you’re trying to feed yourself than when you’re doing it for a lark.”
“That’s exactly my point. If Judy Garland succeeds as a star, she’ll have a lot of money, and with that money she can make her own decisions. She won’t need her mother anymore, and she won’t even need Louis B. Mayer. If you’re a star, you call the shots. Nobody made them sign that studio contract. They wanted it—even if they’re not deaf, dumb, and blind to the price they have to pay to keep it.”
Maud was warming up to Ida Koverman, starting to understand why she had been given the job of sitting, like a three-headed Cerberus, to guard the studio’s innermost sanctum. Maud could imagine Ida, in another era, fitting right in with Matilda and Susan B. Anthony, fighting for the day when women could vote, a day so far distant that it wouldn’t even come to pass in their lifetimes. Maud could almost picture a day when Ida would be seated at the studio head’s desk, and Mayer would be typing and answering phones outside. Surely the kind of treatment Judy had to endure could not continue if a woman were in charge?
“If those men harness one-tenth of the power of the Oz magic, then Judy will be a bigger star than anyone right now imagines,” Maud said. “They just need to do the story justice.”
Ida stood up, straightened her skirt, fiddled again with her garters, and took a peek in the mirror. “I’m sure you’re right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a tinkle before I get back to my desk. I give you my solemn promise that as long as I’m here, I’ll try to look out for her as best I can. And I want you to know that it’s real nice of you to take an interest in the girl’s welfare, and I hope that this picture is all that you hope it will be, because I get the feeling you loved your husband very much or you wouldn’t be here fighting for him so hard.” Ida glanced toward the row of stalls.
Slipping her purse over her arm, Maud stood up. “Thank you, Ida. It makes me feel better to know that we are both watching out for her. If anything else comes up, may I call on you?”
“Don’t mind me,” Ida said, ducking behind a toilet stall door. “And yes, come around anytime,” she called through the closed door. “My office is always open.”
Maud rode the elevator back down to the lobby, smiling at the nervous-looking redheaded receptionist as she passed. Outside, the day was bright and the walkway was bordered with bright orange birds-of-paradise. Even more brilliant than the flowers was a group of women, each more beautiful than the next. They hurried past, clad in acres of taffeta and lace, spangled in costume jewelry, adorned by shining coils of hair elaborately arranged upon their heads like crowns. From their lithe forms and graceful movements, Maud suspected they were all dancers, most likely headed off to perform one of M-G-M’s big dance numbers. Judy Garland was not elegant in the same manner as these women—and yet, Maud was certain, if she could just manage to capture the essence of Dorothy, her star would burn brighter than any of theirs.
CHAPTER
18
ABERDEEN, DAKOTA TERRITORY
1889
By May 1889, Maud was certain she was expecting another child, and as if the entire world wanted to follow suit, the last of the snow melted, leaving behind muddy shoes, daffodils outside her doorway, and a riot of prairie flowers blooming in the grasslands. The Christmas sales at Baum’s Bazaar had been a disappointment but not a fatal one—the store was still generating just enough income to keep them afloat.
After being cooped up inside with the children all winter, Maud loved being out-of-doors again. In the afternoon, when her chores were finished, she wandered along the lane until it petered out, and gathered bunches of bluebells, delicate white yarrow, and purple prairie fleabane. She took the house apart, beating every rug, mattress, and pillow, scrubbing every lintel and baseboard until the house gleamed and smelled of floor wax and Fairbank’s Gold Dust Washing Powder.
When Frank came home from downtown in the evenings, he regarded their sparkling home with bemusement, asking if she could not spend the afternoons with her feet up, but Maud was convinced, no matter what any doctor might tell her, that she had best stay strong, take long walks, and breathe fresh air, as only her strength would get her through the danger she faced in childbirth. If she sat still too long, her mind and hands idle, she had flashes of fear: What would happen to her children if she did not live through this lying-in?
One night, as they lay in bed, Frank’s hands cupped around her swelling belly, she whispered to him:
“If I don’t live, please find someone else, Frank. And be sure to choose someone kind.”
“You mustn’t say such things,” Frank said. “Nothing will happen to you. You are strong.”
Maud gripped his hands hard and whispered fiercely: “No, promise me right now, Frank Baum. I can’t bear the thought of my children growing up without a mother.”
“Maud, no!”
“Say it!” Maud said. “Say it now! And don’t choose pretty—choose kind!”
Maud lay perfectly still, listening to the sound of Frank’s measured breathing.
“I can’t do it, Maud. I fear that it might bring us cursed luck. It’s not natural.”
Maud sat up, threw back the covers, and walked to the window.
“You’ll say it now, or I’ll not sleep in this bed again until you do.”
Frank sighed and sat up, his long, skinny legs, in woolen underwear, illuminated by the moonlight shining in the window.
“Come back to bed, darling, please. I will honor your wish. Just don’t make me repeat such a thing aloud.”
“Frank, you’re superstitious, aren’t you?” Maud said. “Just shake my hand and tell me that you swear. It will set my mind so much at ease.”
Maud came back and sat down on the bed next to him. Frank put out his hand, and he solemnly shook her hand as he said, “I solemnly swear that I will abide by your wishes.” Maud flung both arms around him, and the pair sat in an unmoving embrace until Maud realized that Frank was crying—his silent tears had drenched her shoulder.
Gently, she wiped away his tears.
“Courage, dear,” Maud said.
“I love you, darling,” Frank said, his voice clotted.
She squeezed his hand and looked up into his gentle eyes. “It’s worth it,” she said.
“I have faith in you,” Frank replied.
* * *