Scarlett O'Hara's Complex Relationship with the Slaves in "Gone with the Wind"

 
"Gone with the Wind" (1939) remains a controversial movie to this day due to its depictions of slavery in the South leading up to, during, and after the Civil War.  This is understandable on many levels because slavery remains a blot on the history of our great nation.  Any film that purports to depict that time period and subject matter is bound to tread dangerous territory.  I personally think it's a great film, with vivid and exciting characters, but I can understand why the movie might rub some people the wrong way.  I am not a proponent of political correctness in the least, but as an American of Chinese descent I acknowledge how there are depictions of Asians in cinema that offend me, like Wayne Wang's "The Joy Luck Club" (1993), so I am the last person to ever suggest that African Americans, or anyone else for that matter, shouldn't be offended by the movie.  The interesting thing is, "Gone with the Wind" has an innate appeal that allows it to transcend notions of political correctness so that its fans encompass a wide spectrum of individuals from different nationalities, religions, and ethnic backgrounds.  I have found that people you'd least expect to like "Gone with the Wind" happen to worship and enjoy the movie wholeheartedly.  I think one reason why its appeal remains so widespread is because its depictions of slavery, and of the slaves, is more complex and nuanced than is typically acknowledged by politically correct interpreters of the film.  As such, people are able to enjoy "Gone with the Wind," and appreciate the characters and themes of the story, without having to embrace or condone the institution of slavery.

One aspect of the movie that remains complex is Scarlett O'Hara's (Vivien Leigh) personal interaction and relationship with the slaves who work for her.  Unlike the other Southern slave owners in the movie, Scarlett is the only one who has any sort of substantial dealings with the slaves.  While there is a definite mistress-servant dynamic with regards to how Scarlett deals with Mammy (Hattie McDaniel), Pork (Oscar Polk), Prissy (Butterfly McQueen), and Big Sam (Everett Brown) in the film, there's also much more to it than that.  There is a directness and candor with regards to Scarlett's relationship with the slaves that is distinct and separate from her relationship with everyone else in the film.  In contrast, her sisters Suellen (Evelyn Keyes) and Carreen (Ann Rutherford) don't have nearly as complex and nuanced a relationship with the slaves as Scarlett does, and they grew up in the same house as she did.  Throughout "Gone with the Wind," Scarlett is in a perpetual state of subterfuge and manipulation with the way she interacts with Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), Melanie Wilkes (Olivia De Havilland), and even Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) because she's trying to fool them into believing she's a better person than she is so that she can get what she wants and needs from them.  But Scarlett isn't like that when she's with the slaves.  One could validly opine that it's because she's the mistress, they're the slave/servant, and they have to put up with her no matter what her eccentricities are, and follow her directives accordingly.  But I think it's deeper than that.  Scarlett is cognizant of the fact that the slaves know what kind of person she really is underneath all of her airs and, as such, she can't easily manipulate them like she does the others.  She can relax around them and admit her fears, vulnerabilities and concerns in ways that she can't around the other Southerners in the story.

Most people point towards Scarlett's relationship with Mammy to demonstrate the complexity of the movie's depiction of the slaves, and there is much evidence in the movie to support this contention.  Despite Mammy's status in the first half of "Gone with the Wind" as a slave (and, thus, possession) in the O'Hara household, in many ways she is also one of the most formidable characters in the story.  Like Rhett, she's one of the few characters in the story who isn't frightened or intimidated by Scarlett in the least, and remains blunt and honest throughout the story whenever she feels Scarlett is making a mistake.  More than Ellen O'Hara, Mammy is the true mother-figure in Scarlett's life.  When Scarlett puts on airs about Ashley Wilkes liking a girl who has a healthy appetite, so that she can avoid having to eat before the Twelve Oaks Barbecue, Mammy slyly reminds her that Ashley hasn't expressed any interest in wanting to marry Scarlett.  As such, Mammy reminds Scarlett of how she's pinning all of her hopes on a man who only gives her crumbs in-return for the unearned adoration she bestows upon him.

 
Mammy is also the one who tells Scarlett that she's making a mistake to go to Atlanta to stay with Melanie, after Scarlett's first husband Charles Hamilton (Rand Brooks)--Melanie's brother--has died.  As Mammy wisely opines "Savannah would be better for ya.  You'd just get in trouble in Atlanta...You know what trouble I's talkin' 'bout.  I's talking 'bout Mr. Ashley Wilkes.  He'll be comin' to Atlanta when he gets his leave, and you sittin' there waitin' for him, just like a spider.  He belongs to Miss Melanie."  Mammy knows that Ashley doesn't love Scarlett, and that her presence in Atlanta will only stir up trouble and land Scarlett in hot water.  Mammy doesn't want to see Scarlett hurt everyone around her, including herself.  Mammy is also there when Ashley returns from the war and Scarlett impulsively starts to run out to greet him, just as Melanie is running towards Ashley.  Mammy grabs Scarlett and sagely reminds her that he's Melanie's husband now.  Throughout "Gone with the Wind," Scarlett tries to hide how deeply her feelings are for Ashley in front of almost everyone, but she is honest about her feelings in Mammy's presence.  Mammy's knowledge and understanding of Scarlett's unrequited love for Ashley enables her to try and help Scarlett to avoid embarrassment and scandal from inadvertently revealing her feelings for him at inopportune moments.  In many ways, Mammy represents the conscience that Scarlett has, but chooses to ignore throughout the movie.

One aspect of "Gone with the Wind" that continues to trouble people is Scarlett's interaction with Prissy, particularly during the scene in Atlanta when Melanie has gone into labor with no doctor around to help.  As you will recall, the Yankees are due to arrive any moment, and Prissy finally admits that she lied about knowing how to help give birth to babies.  The scene where Scarlett slaps Prissy out of anger and frustration remains disturbing decades later because it is the one scene in the movie that doesn't try to soft-pedal the dominance that slave owners had over their slaves during that time.  Scarlett was out of line in hitting Prissy, and there's no way to rationalize or justify her actions at that moment.  The only thing that redeems Scarlett is the fact that she doesn't leave Prissy behind when Rhett shows up at Aunt Pitty's house to help them all escape from Atlanta before the Yankees arrive.  Rhett informs Scarlett that there's been fighting around Tara all day, and that it would be crazy to trek through there with Prissy, Melanie and her baby.  He rhetorically asks if Scarlett intends to leave them behind.  An impatient Scarlett tells Rhett that she intends to make sure that they all get back to Tara safely, including Prissy.  Scarlett exclaims, "They're going with me and I'm going home and you can't stop me!"  One might conjecture that Scarlett doesn't want to lose a slave who she could put to use once they're back at Tara, but given how frightened Scarlett is at that moment concerning the Yankees' impending arrival, she could have easily abandoned Prissy in order to expedite a faster and easier escape.  But she doesn't because, for better or worse, Prissy is part of the team and, like military personnel, Scarlett seems to feel a duty to ensure that no one who is part of her group is left behind.

Scarlett also has a rather complex and nuanced relationship with the men who work at Tara: Pork, the family's valet, and Big Sam, the field foreman.  When Pork informs Scarlett that Jonas Wilkerson has become a carpetbagger and that his friends intend to raise the taxes on Tara, Scarlett says aloud that she will ask Ashley what to do about it.  Pork reminds her that Ashley doesn't have the tax money and Scarlett responds, "Well, I can ask him if I want to, can't I?"  Scarlett's reaction is interesting because she doesn't respond to Pork in a manner that would indicate that it's none of his business that she's consulting Ashley about the taxes, which is how one might normally expect a mistress of the household to address one of her servants.  Instead, Scarlett gets defensive about it, almost as if she feels she has to justify to Pork her reasons for wanting to reach out to Ashley on this issue.  Later, after Gerald O'Hara has died, Scarlett gives Pork her father's pocket watch as a memento.  Pork tells Scarlett that she should sell it to get the money to pay the taxes on Tara.  Scarlett tells Pork, "You take it, it's for you.  Pa'd want you to have it...You think I'd sell Pa's watch?  And don't cry.  I can stand everybody's tears but yours."  In so doing, Scarlett recognizes the role that Pork has played in her family's household for presumably decades.  The fact that she acknowledges that she can handle everyone's tears over her father's death, except Pork's, suggests to me that she knows she has to remain strong for the others in the household she regards as weaker and needing more support.  Scarlett's admission that Pork's tears would unnerve her suggests that she regards Pork as someone who can be strong, just as she is.  If he cracks under pressure, it might be too much for Scarlett to handle and would allow her to give in to her fears that she won't be able to surmount this latest challenge.  Scarlett relies on Pork to stay strong for her sake.  As such, Scarlett leans on the slaves for emotional support more than is usually acknowledged in the movie.

Similarly, Scarlett's scenes with Big Sam also reflect the certain level of comfort and ease she feels around him.  When the Yankees are initially bombing Atlanta, and the residents are fleeing the city in fear, Scarlett is rushing to Aunt Pitty's house after she has gotten fed up with volunteering at the hospital.  She's fleeing through the streets when she runs into Big Sam and the other field hands from Tara, who are being sent by the Confederacy to help dig ditches.  Scarlett seems genuinely happy to see Big Sam and the other slaves from Tara, calls out each of their names, and tells them "Goodbye Big Sam, goodbye boys.  If any of you get sick or hurt, let me know."  Scarlett expresses a level of concern for the slaves that we never see from the other slave owners.  Later, when Scarlett is riding her buggy through shanty-town and is attacked, and Big Sam comes to her rescue, she again seems genuinely happy and grateful to see him.  As she rushes away on her buggy wagon, she stops when she realizes that Big Sam is the one who fought off her attackers.  She appears relieved to see him and stops the buggy so that the two of them can escape the seedy shanty-town milieu together.  If Scarlett was as callous as people expect her to be about her slaves and servants, she would've just left Big Sam behind after he fought off her attackers (just as she would've, but didn't, leave Prissy behind when the Yankees were closing in on Atlanta).  Back at Frank Kennedy's house, as Kennedy gives Big Sam money and instructs him to head straight to Tara to avoid being arrested for this altercation, Vivien Leigh's voice registers a moment of vulnerability and sincerity when she says "Goodbye Sam, and thank you" while Scarlett is busy crying in order to generate sympathy from Frank for being attacked.  At that moment, she's trying to manipulate her husband Frank to feel sorry for her, but she drops her facade long enough to express gratitude to Big Sam for coming to her rescue.

I think the fact that Scarlett doesn't take the slaves for granted is the reason why they all continue working for her long after the Civil War has ended.  Unlike the Wilkes', whose slaves never came back after Twelve Oaks was burned down by the Yankees and after the war has ended, the slaves remain a part of Scarlett's household for decades to come as she works hard to help everyone around her rebuild their lives in post-war Atlanta.  Mammy, Pork, Prissy, and Big Sam could have taken other jobs, but they chose to continue working for Scarlett.  One could opine that the reason for this is because of their uncertainty of forging new lives for themselves as emancipated slaves in the post-Civil War South, and that would certainly be a valid point to make.  But I think a more valid reason is because Scarlett, in her own way, has demonstrated to them that she values their presence in her life and doesn't take them for granted the way the other slave owners may have treated their servants.  At one point, when Scarlett and Ashley argue over the use of convicts as workers at their lumber mill, he sanctimoniously declares that he "will not make money out of the enforced labor and misery of others." Scarlett reminds Ashley that "You weren't particular about owning slaves."  Ashley tries to rationalize things and says that he would have freed his father's slaves after he had passed away if the Civil War hadn't happened, and claims that he treated his slaves better than the convicts are being treated.  However, we never see Ashley throughout the course of "Gone with the Wind" have any meaningful interaction with his slaves, or anyone else in the movie for that matter.  Ashley can espouse high-minded ideals of freeing the slaves because, as with everything else in his life, he thinks of his slaves in terms of romanticized abstractions, not as flesh and blood individuals.  Scarlett remains a taskmaster with her servants to the end, but she watches their back just as much as they watch out for hers.

 
I think the moment that sums up Scarlett's relationship with her slaves is the scene, right after the intermission, when Gerald O'Hara (Thomas Mitchell) complains to Scarlett about how tough she has been with the slaves as they pick cotton in the fields.  Gerald O'Hara makes the cringe-worthy statement, "I've been talking to Prissy and Mammy and I don't like the way you are treating them.  You must be firm with inferiors, but you must be gentle with them."  Scarlett responds, "Yes, Pa, I know.  But I'm not asking them to do anything I'm not doing myself."  Despite Scarlett's apparent affirmation of Gerald O'Hara's statement, I think her response actually suggests that she doesn't necessarily think of Prissy, Mammy, Pork, or Big Sam as "inferiors" at all.  Despite the class differences between their characters, Scarlett is holding them to the same standards that she is holding herself to.  If Scarlett indeed felt that they were "inferiors," as her father suggested, she would assume that they were too helpless and ineffectual to assist in her efforts to rebuild their lives after the war.  Gerald O'Hara appears to regard the slaves almost as if they were children to be coddled, whereas Scarlett treats them in a straightforward manner like the adults that they are.  Scarlett might lose her cool, and scold or get mad at them, but she never mocks or condescends to them.  While I wouldn't go so far as to suggest that Scarlett thinks of them as her equals (and, to be honest, she doesn't think of anyone else in the movie, except maybe Rhett, as her equal) she also doesn't take them for granted for the reasons I've already underscored.

To be clear, my intent is not to romanticize slavery or "Gone with the Wind's" depiction of it at all.  As stated at the outset, slavery remains a blot on the history of the United States and cannot be rationalized.  However, I believe that it's because of the subtle nuances in the depiction of the slaves, and Scarlett O'Hara's interaction with them, in "Gone with the Wind" that many viewers are able to come to terms with aspects of the movie that are genuinely troubling to them.  As with any great work of art--and I do consider "Gone with the Wind a great work of art--it's the controversial aspects attached to it that allows it to maintain intrigue and relevancy through the decades.  Scarlett O'Hara's relationship with the slaves--as well as the brilliant performances of Hattie McDaniel, Butterfly McQueen, Oscar Polk, and Everett Brown that brought warmth, humor, and humanity to characters that could have been completely one-dimensional stereotypes--provides a level of balance so that contemporary viewers are able to appreciate the scope and depth of Margaret Mitchell's timeless story that producer David O. Selznick brought vividly to life over 73 years ago. 

Hey Oscar, Why Didn't You Mention Ann Rutherford in your "In Memoriam" segment?

I have blogged before about how the Academy Award's "In Memoriam" section leaves out people who have made valuable and indisputable contributions to the movies, and how hurtful it is to the families and friends of loved ones who get ignored by the Academy year after year in this category.  It feels strange to now have to blog from the perspective of being one of those slighted friends.  The Academy failed to mention Ann Rutherford, who passed away last June.  Ann was a good friend and I had no doubt that she would be included in the Oscar "In Memoriam" section.  I was shocked that Ann was short shrifted by the Academy, along with Andy Griffith, Larry Hagman, Harry Carey Jr., and other notables.  Her career encompassed appearances in over 50 feature films in a 15 year period.  Some of those films include "A Christmas Carol" (1938) where she played the Ghost of Christmas Past, "Gone with the Wind" (1939) where she played Scarlett O'Hara's sister Carreen, "Pride & Prejudice" (1940), "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" (1947), and over a dozen appearances as Mickey Rooney's girlfriend Polly Benedict in the "Andy Hardy" series that stretched from the Depression through World War II.  I shouldn't have to build a case for why Ann should have been included.  Her work speaks for itself.  You can look up her credits on IMDB here.

 
During her film career, Ann Rutherford was under contract to Republic Pictures (where she made Westerns with John Wayne), and then MGM for almost 7 years, and then 20th Century-Fox.  She shrewdly dealt with powerful studio heads like Louis B. Mayer and Darryl F. Zanuck during her lifetime.  Ann was always proud to have been part of moviemaking in the classic era of Hollywood.  I hesitate to speak on her behalf, but I have a strong feeling that she would have been hurt and disappointed had she known she was excluded from Oscar's "In Memoriam" section.  Ann was a great unofficial goodwill Ambassador for Hollywood.  Even though she had long been retired, she still had an active interest in the movies and her tastes were much more eclectic than one would expect.  She was proud to be a voting member of the Academy.  I recall how she greatly enjoyed "The Kids are Alright" (2010), which refutes the notion that older Academy members like herself are not open-minded about modern, cutting-edge material.  Turner Classic Movies still outclasses the Academy with their annual "TCM Remembers" reel because the people who prepare it are much more inclusive, and have much more reverence and respect for both the film personnel it honors and film aficionados, than the Academy.  As I said before, TCM honors the average film buff, while the Academy just honors themselves.

I'm glad that Ann is not here to witness the sort of politicking on display that others have resorted to in order to ensure their place on the "In Memoriam" list this year.  The "In Memoriam" segment is the one section of the Oscars where there should be neither competition nor campaigning.  By choosing to decide who gets to be included or excluded, the Academy is not just passing judgment on one performance, or one particular piece of work, but the entire body and value of a person's career.  The rationale for who gets included or short-shrifted in the "In Memoriam" segment still baffles my mind.  The Academy, in the past, has made excuses for short shrifting people like Farrah Fawcett in their "In Memoriam" section, claiming that she was better known for her TV work and they would leave it to the Emmys to honor people like Fawcett.  I still do not understand why the Academy does not dispense with its stupid comedy routines and musical numbers and add more minutes to the "In Memoriam" segment so that even more people can be included.  It would spare everyone involved a lot of grief and heartache if they did, because it's important for family and friends of a loved one who is gone, especially soon after they have passed away, to see them appropriately acknowledged by their Industry.  To borrow an expression that Ann liked to use when she was annoyed, it's apparent to me that the Academy is run by "Card-Carrying Idiots."  Ann Rutherford's body of work in motion pictures warranted her inclusion in this year's "In Memoriam" section, so what's your excuse this time, Oscar, hmmm?

Passion and Indifference: Rhett Butler vs. Ashley Wilkes

Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) and Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard) are the principal men in the lives of Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) and Melanie Wilkes (Olivia de Havilland) in "Gone with the Wind" (1939).  Many treatises have been written about the interrelationships between these four characters in both the novel by Margaret Mitchell and the movie produced by David O. Selznick.  What I realized only recently is the fact that, while both Rhett and Ashley each have many significant scenes with Scarlett and Melanie throughout the movie, the two men share screen time with one another in only three scenes:  the scene early on at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks (where the men are all gathered talking about the prospect of war); at Melanie's house right after the shantytown raid (where Rhett has the wounded Ashley pretending to be drunk so as not to be arrested and hung by the Army for helping to instigate the raid); and again at Melanie's house at the end of the film where she is dying.  In fact, I believe there are only two instances where the two men actually exchange words.  During the debate at the Twelve Oaks barbecue concerning the war, Rhett turns to Ashley, when he realizes that his frank discussion about the prospects of Confederate defeat has angered the other guests, and says "Mr. Wilkes, perhaps you won't mind if I walk about and look over your place?  I seem to be spoiling everybody's brandy and cigars and dreams of victory."  Ashley never responds to Rhett's rhetorical exit line.  At the end of the film, as Scarlett expresses disbelief that Melanie is dying, Rhett reminds Scarlett that "She hasn't your strength.  She's never had any strength.  She's never had anything but heart," to which the amazed Ashley responds to Rhett, "You knew that, too?"  And that's pretty much it in terms of the interaction between the two men in Scarlett and Melanie's lives.

I think the lack of any meaningful interaction between Rhett and Ashley, even though they are long-time rivals for Scarlett, underscores how they have absolutely nothing in common with each other.  Ashley is an ineffectual milquetoast who talks about honor in a quixotic manner, but ultimately proves he has no honor because, aside from fighting in the war, he doesn't stand up for anything he claims to believe in.  He strings Scarlett along for decades, never once having the decency to tell her that he genuinely loves Melanie.  I feel, however inadvertently, he is the one at fault for each of the four principal characters never feeling totally fulfilled with their lives because they are all left wondering if they are with the right partner and whether they should perhaps be with someone else.  Ashley is a wimpy tease of the worse kind, allowing people to care about him, but never having the guts to watch their backs and stand up for them when they truly need him.  His actions leave everybody, especially Scarlett, holding the bag, particularly in the scene where Scarlett has to endure the glares from the other guests at Ashley's birthday party after Scarlett and Ashley were discovered embracing each other at the lumber mill offices by India Wilkes.  It's obvious by the disapproving looks on everybody's face that Ashley never bothered to exonerate Scarlett by explaining that she was simply comforting him after he expressed sentimental nostalgia for the pre-war existence they once knew.  In essence, Ashley threw Scarlett under the bus just to save his own hide.  The ungrateful wimp forgets that it was Scarlett who saved his wife and child when the Yankees were burning Atlanta, who continued to care for them back at Tara, and who helped set him up in business with the lumber mill after the war so that he could provide for his family.  All Ashley can do is look to the past for comfort.  Without Scarlett around to guide him, he surely would not be able to face the challenges of the post-Civil War industrial revolution.

In contrast, as everyone has noted, Rhett is a man of action.  He is a flawed, imperfect person with a rebellious streak who was kicked out of West Point, is not received by any good families in Charleston, and makes his living as a war-profiteering blockade runner.  On the surface, he does not appear to possess the presumed nobility that Ashley is perceived to have, but Rhett proves, through his actions, that he is the man who is truly honorable.  He is the one who pays to retrieve Melanie's wedding ring, after she donated it to help fund the Confederate war effort; has Belle Watling donate gold currency to the Confederate hospital in Atlanta (because he knows Scarlett would never accept the gesture); helps Scarlett escape from Atlanta with Melanie and infant Beau; rescues Ashley and Dr. Meade from a Yankee ambush at the shantytown raid, and provides an alibi for them by taking them to Belle Watling's brothel; allows Scarlett to spend the money to revitalize Tara; and proves to be a good father to their daughter Bonnie.  He might be a hard-drinking, womanizing gambler, but Rhett is a man who is totally pulled-together and who takes care of the people around him.  Unlike Ashley, who doesn't have the guts to reveal his true feelings, Rhett time and time again demonstrates the deepness of his feelings and caring for the people in his life.  He never stops loving Scarlett, even when she continues to disappoint him by loving Ashley, develops strong friendships with Belle Watling, Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) and Melanie, and unabashedly showers his daughter Bonnie with the love and affection that he wishes he could shower on Scarlett, if only she would let him.  (In contrast, we never see Ashley express any genuine caring for his own son Beau, or spend any quality time with him.  Furthermore, the scene where Melanie comes to comfort Rhett after Scarlett's miscarriage is a more insightful moment than the mundane romantic sequence with Ashley and Melanie at the Twelve Oaks barbecue, one of the few scenes the Wilkes's have alone with each another.  In Rhett's presence, Melanie becomes earthier, more self-aware, and more candid discussing the circumstances of all of their lives than we would have expected from her.)  Because Rhett is someone who is willing to put himself and his heart on the line, it must irk him to stand in the same room with the passive and ineffectual Ashley, who remains disconnected from the people and environment around him.

 
That's why I think we never really have a scene in "Gone with the Wind" with Rhett and Ashley having any meaningful interaction with each other.  The two men have nothing to say to each other, and nothing in common in terms of interests (other than Scarlett) or in temperament.  Even without the connection to Scarlett, it is doubtful that the two of them would ever be friends with one another other.  Rhett has the courage and vision to look towards the future and pave a way for himself and his loved ones in post-Civil War Atlanta, while Ashley is helplessly living in the past, riding on Scarlett's coattails for survival.  It might have been interesting if the two of them finally duked it out with one another over Scarlett, but I don't think Rhett would ever waste his time on a wuss like Ashley.  

Similar to their characters, Clark Gable's vivid performance as Rhett still resonates with us 73 years later.  Despite his admitted reluctance to play the role, Gable's professionalism overcomes any qualms he may have had about the project.  As everybody back in the 1930s felt, he proved to be the quintessential actor to play Rhett, able to balance both his flaws and strengths into creating a completely 3-dimensional character who continues to win our respect and admiration decades later.  Particularly in the scenes late in the film with daughter Bonnie, Gable proves to be just as courageous as his character in allowing himself to explore Rhett's vulnerabilities on-screen.  He should have won the Best Actor Oscar that year for his touching performance.  Similarly, Leslie Howard (whose disdain and contempt for "Gone with the Wind" has been well-noted through the years and which shows in his lackluster performance) brings absolutely no depth to the role of Ashley.  His lazy performance ensures that Ashley is a shadow of a personality throughout the film.  Ashley is the one character, from the quintet of principal leads in "Gone with the Wind," who never truly wins over the heart or enthusiasm of the audience.  Howard's condescension to the material, and his cowardly inability to find any sort of depth or humanity to the character, ensures that he remains inaccessible to audiences.  The decency that the other characters attribute to Ashley never comes through.  We don't like Ashley and he is, at best, tolerable to watch.  That's OK, because it allows our sympathies to remain with Rhett--where they belong.  Whether intentional or not, the qualities that both men brought to their roles only serves to underscore the generally accepted belief that David O. Selznick did indeed pick the perfect cast for "Gone with the Wind."

The Shrewd, "Street Smart" Ann Rutherford

Noah called her back sooner than we expected.

I am referencing a running joke that the late actress, and my friend, Ann Rutherford always made about her incredible vitality and longevity.  She often joked that she came over with Noah on the Ark and that, until Noah called for her to come home, she intended to live life to the fullest, but that she didn't expect him to come calling for her for another 30 years, at least!  Unfortunately, for the rest of us, 30 years came too quickly.  She passed away on Monday at age 91. 

As you may have already read from most of her obituaries, Ann Rutherford was a contract player at MGM and 20^th Century-Fox in the 1930s and 1940s.  She was best known for playing Polly Benedict in a dozen entries of the “Andy Hardy” series opposite Mickey Rooney, as well as playing Careen O’Hara, Scarlett’s kind and level-headed younger sister, in “Gone with the Wind” (1939).  I became friends with Ann while researching  a book I am still working on about the Hollywood Canteen during WWII.  It was a servicemen's nightclub where the movie stars of the era entertained and danced with military personnel who were in Los Angeles before being deployed overseas.  Ann was listed on Wikipedia as one of the movie stars who entertained there.  So I wrote to her to ask if I could interview her about it.  She called me on the phone after she received my letter.  It turns out Wikipedia was wrong (surprise, surprise!), she did not volunteer at the Canteen.  But she did extensively tour the country selling War bonds and visiting military installations to entertain the troops.  I still interviewed her because I felt her anecdotes about selling War bonds and visiting military installations would be relevant, and they were.  She had great anecdotes and insights about WWII and how Hollywood responded to the war effort.  We stayed good friends as a result.  She introduced me to her friends such as Anne Jeffreys, Joan Leslie, and Faye McKenzie who I also interviewed about their WWII memories volunteering at the Canteen.  I would look her up when I visited Los Angeles, and I spent time with her when she was visiting the Williamsburg Film Festival in the Spring of 2011, and we talked on the phone frequently.  When I think of it now, it amazes me how we became fast friends and she was just an incredibly positive, encouraging person.

Many of the write-ups and obituaries, I am happy to say, are very respectful, but only one managed to capture what I feel was the essence of Ann Rutherford.  In Adam Bernstein’s well-researched and well-written essay on Ann in the June 13, 2012 issue of the  Washington Post, Bernstein cites her business acumen and shrewdness in dealing with the studio bosses at MGM.  Bernstein hits the nail right on the head.  She was an incredibly intelligent and shrewd person, and her native street smarts allowed her to survive and thrive in the jungle known as Hollywood.  She never suffered fools gladly and knew how to take care of herself and her finances (which many actors and actresses, I am sorry to say, do not know how to do).  I learned a lot from her about being a business professional, and how one must diligently explore all opportunities that are presented to them in life.  She told me how, between making movies at MGM, she would do magazine and newspaper interviews and radio shows because she realized that doing publicity was important in helping to maintain a career.  She felt networking was as important, if not more so, than the actual work as an actress because she realized that, if people don't know who you are, they won't pay money to see you in a movie. 

She was never pretentious and never copped an "artsy" attitude as an actress, even though she did a lot of fine work and was as accomplished an actress as any of her peers—she worked in theatre, movies, radio and television during her career.  She had no patience for pretentious “thespians” who thought they were too good for Hollywood or the responsibilities that came with working in the movies.  (Believe you me, there are plenty of them and I can think of one particular pretentious actress, for example…but I’ll save that for another time!)  I think Ann lacked any sort of pretentions because she knew how fortunate she was to have broken into the business and she wasn’t hindered by false pride and false humility the way other actors and actresses, who openly disdained the dictates of the classic Hollywood studio system, were.  Having been brought up during the Great Depression and living through WWII, Ann never had a sense of entitlement or elitism.  She knew that striving for success was what regular people hoped to achieve for themselves, and was nothing to be ashamed of.  I think she felt that everybody owed it to themselves to fulfill their goals and aspirations, no matter what it was.  This had to do with the fact that she never lost touch with the "common man."  As far as she was concerned, she was part of the "common folk" and never pretended to be better than they were. 

There's a story she told that took place when she was a young teenager.  She and a bunch of kids in the neighborhood built a boat and sailed to Catalina.  She had packed sandwiches for lunch and when they were far from shore, the calking of the boat came loose because it hadn't dried, and the boat started sinking and capsized.  She remembered seeing her sandwiches unwrapping from their paper and sinking to the bottom of the ocean.  She and her friends clung to the side of the boat until she saw a ship from far in the distance.  It was the USS Arizona, and its crew spotted her and her friends and rescued them and later, towed their little boat back to shore.  Years later, when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor occurred, she was deeply affected because that ship had saved her life.  But she told the story very matter-of-factly, with very little drama or emotion, and I think her calm reaction to that day reflects her survival instincts were already intact from an early age.

Ann appreciated the fan letters and interest in her career, especially when it came to discussing "Gone with the Wind."  She was indeed deeply proud of "The Wind," as she would call it, and felt like she was both the book and the movie's cultural ambassador at times.  But, even though she had a healthy appreciation for her past, she lived very much in the present.  She was always active, going out to social events, seeing friends, traveling, staying engaged in the world.  (Ann would always joke about “going dancing in the streets together!” whenever she described planning a get-together with any of her friends.)  At her home, there were no mementos from her career displayed anywhere, just photos of her family and friends in the living room.  She valued the close relationship she had with her daughter Gloria, her grandsons, and her stepdaughter Debbie.  She told me once that she got married and started a family after Louis B. Mayer sold her MGM contract to 20^th Century-Fox, where she was miserable.  She found the atmosphere at Fox to be oppressive, and studio head Darryl Zanuck did nothing for her career—he cast her in thankless roles in B movies, and loaned her out constantly to other studios.  She decided that, since she had little control over the direction of her movie career, it was time for her to focus on her personal life.  This was a woman who always made proactive choices in her life. 

Her best friend was actress Anne Jeffreys.  The two were inseparable and were great fun to be around.  They often traveled together, went to shows and premieres in town together, and always made sure they were color-coordinated in the elegant clothes and fashions they wore to events.  But, most importantly, they really looked out for each other and cared deeply for one another.  It is appropriate that Jeffreys was the one who was by Ann’s bedside when she passed away at home on Monday.  I am glad Jeffreys was there for Ann at the end. 

Turner Classic Movies plans to honor Ann on July 3^rd with a 10-movie marathon that day.  It climaxes that evening with an airing of “Gone with the Wind.”  I think Ann would have appreciated that.  She once told me that all she ever wanted was to work in this wonderful industry—Hollywood--that had allowed her to be a part of it, and not take anything away from anybody.  The evidence indicates she accomplished all of that and much, much more.