Nancy Olson Livingston - A Front Row Seat: An Intimate Look at Broadway, Hollywood, and the Age of Glamour

Copyright 2022 by Nancy Olson Livingston

Published by The University Press of Kentucky

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Cover Photo: Disney

IVE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HER FACE (from My Fair Lady)

Words by ALAN JAY LERNER. Music by FREDERICK LOEWE

Copyright 1956 (Renewed) ALAN JAY LERNER and FREDERICK LOEWE

Publication and Allied Rights Assigned to CHAPPELL & CO., INC.

All Rights Reserved

Used By Permission of ALFRED MUSIC

Cataloging-in-Publication data is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN 978-0-8131-9619-0 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-0-8131-9620-6 (pdf)

ISBN 978-0-8131-9621-3 (epub)

This book is printed on acid-free paper meeting the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence in Paper for Printed Library Materials.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Member of the Association of University Presses

To Liza, Jenny, and Christopher

and

My special thanks to Christopher, whose assistance made this book possible

Write your name with kindness,

love and mercy on the hearts

of all you meet and know

and you will never be forgotten.

From the autograph book of my paternal grandmother, Nancy Anne Johnson, 1880

O n the morning of June 14, 1986, I received a call from my daughters, Liza and Jenny Lerner, telling me that their father, Alan Jay Lerner, had just passed away. This is the letter I wrote that morning to both of them. I have saved it all these years.

June 14, 1986

Dear Liza and Jenny,

When you called me last night to tell me it was a matter of hours before your father would die, I was filled with a helpless sadness, reminded of lifes errors, human mistakes and those irrevocable choices we made so long ago that changed all of our lives forever.

I awakened at dawn with the feeling that someone or something had tapped me on the shoulder and knew in an instant that Alan was gone. He was already... everywhere.

It was already on the news, Alan Jay Lerner was dead. It seemed ludicrous that my first phone call came from the White House. Was My Fair Lady his first success, they asked. President and Mrs. Reagan wanted to make a condolence statement and could I review his work in the correct sequence? Yes of course I could. Brigadoon was the first. It opened in 1947... three years before we met. The motion picture, An American in Paris, 1950... It was then that we met and married. After that Paint Your Wagon. The year was 1951... the year you were born Liza. Another motion picture, Royal Wedding followed that same year... two years later, you were born Jenny. 1956 My Fair Lady... To Nancy With Love. And in 1958 Gigi... we were divorced shortly after. Camelot was written in 1959 and On a Clear Day in 1960. Nothing of any real significance was ever written again. The White House representative thanked me for this information and hung up, leaving me with a cyclone of images twirling in my head.

I remembered a dream, a recurring dream I had while I was married to your father.

He and I were on a large ocean liner in the middle of a ferocious storm. The sky and sea were dark and threatening and the boat was obviously sinking. There was a small life raft standing by. It was already filled with people; however, there was a space for one more person. As the dream ended, I knew that I would have to give Alan the remaining seat. His terror seemed to me so towering and pervasive that I could not bear to leave him alone to die... I would have to be the one to stay behind and... drown.

I remembered standing in the bedroom of my parents home, putting on my wedding dress, taffy colored silk, with ecru lace circling the hem and framing my shouldersmy father bursting through the door, sobbing, holding me and telling me he didnt want to lose memy mothers face chalky with mourning, tears poised and ready behind her lidsthe sound of Lohengrins March on the family piano. Fritz played for us that day and Alan and I could not wait to leave the small, awkward reception. We were determined to get back to his house in time to hear our favorite radio show. Lovemaking would have to wait for Jack Benny.

I remembered Edie, Alans mother, victim and executioner, and his tortured father, Joe. His brothers, Robert and Richard, his first wife, Ruthie, and their beautiful child, Susan.

I remembered being the best roller skater on Woodlawn Court in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and I remembered the exact moment I decided to be an actressa decision that would bring me to Hollywood to make motion pictures and to meet the most powerful, fabled, and extraordinary people in the world, which inevitably led me to your father and your both being born.

I remembered labor pains, two beautiful children, little girls, hair the color of clover honey, viking blue eyes, sweet, sweet children, climbing on our laps, hugging and kissing mommy and daddy.

I remembered the fascinating and revealing stories my mother and father told me about growing up in the beginning of this century. The heartbreaking stories of your fathers childhood.

I received a phone call this morning from my friend, Shirley. She had just finished the New York Times story about Alans death. She took my breath away when she said that it was inherent in the story that Alan had an abused childhood. Is that really revealed or is Shirley a witch? I must re-read it someday, but not now.

I know that you have always thought of your father and me as being separate. But the truth is that many years ago we met, fell in love, married, and had both of you and were a family. I would like to tell you the story of our livesabout your parents and grandparents and a time that you barely remember. Someday you and your children will be curious to know these things and they will matter to you.

I want to tell you about the years that followed this marriageabout the torture of being left and being forced to find my way alone in the world while taking care of both of you at the same time. I want to share with you the hard lessons I had to learnand how only then was I able to find the perfect partner to spend the rest of my life with and to bring us all together. Bringing a step-sister and step-brother into our lives was a challenge, however, having a new baby brother was a joy. We were a complete family at last.

Im sure you think of me not only with love but with a degree of skepticism. How in the world did I ever put all the pieces together? Part of my journey has been filled with dreams that seemed to have pointed the way. Perhaps they will help put the tiny fragments of the mosaic of our lives in place.