Sunday, June 20, 2010

flying shirley

New Television Antenna, 1949, Norman Rockwell

I've been getting a ton of hits on my sitemeter lately on a particular post about my Shirley Temple. Are Shirleys back in vogue? Maybe. So, gentle readers, by popular demand, this is a re-post of Flying Shirley, originally posted in February of 2009.

When I was a little girl, I adored throwing my dolls in the air. The most fun, was tossing the baby Jesus from my grandmother's nativity set, complete with permanent plastic swaddling clothes, as near the ceiling as possible. To Grandma, this little fetish was entirely disrespectful. Like Queen Victoria, she was not amused, and promptly ordered me to stop, which I did, until she was safely out of the room.

I often dreamed of flying, myself, running fast as I possibly could in the grass, until my feet miraculously left the ground. It was exhilarating, drifting, wind in my face, arms out like Peter Pan, with an aerial view of my house and yard. I've heard it said to dream of flying is a sign of creativity, or maybe it was simply my childish craving for autonomy.

One Michigan summer day, a five year old me was doing my favorite Shirley Temple doll a favor, by sharing with her the thrill of flight. Higher and higher she flew, until she landed with a thud on the roof. I was mortified. Shirley, up there on the blazing asphalt, was more than I could bear. I begged my parents to rescue her, but to no avail. Fall came, and by November she was covered with a heavy blanket of snow. All winter, I imagined my Shirley, cold and abandoned on the roof.

With the arrival of spring, my father, anxious to see a ball game, climbed on the roof to adjust the TV antenna. He descended with a treasure, my beloved Shirley. Her ringlets were frizzled, one of her eyelids hung partially shut, and she had lost that curious, intoxicating scent of new plastic. I had never seen anything so lovely. I never again dreamed of flying.


Head of a Doll by Charles Simic


my flying Shirley
Whose demon are you,
Whose god? I asked
Of the painted mouth
Half buried in the sand.

A brooding gull
Made a brief assessment,
And tiptoed away
Nodding to himself.

At dusk a firefly or two
Dowsed its eye pits.
And later, toward midnight,
I even heard mice.




In the 1930s, the lovable little Shirley Temple became a symbol of happiness and hope in the midst of the Great Depression. A wave of merchandising followed, including a series of high quality Shirley Temple composition dolls (composition is a sawdust-based wood pulp, which can crack easily, so many did not survive). Later, in the 1950s, Shirley Temple dolls were made of vinyl and are therefore more common. Celebrity dolls have been in production for a long time. In the 1840s, several famous ballerinas were featured as paper dolls. Also in the 1800s, various military heroes were portrayed as dolls/figures. John Bunny, the silent film star, was one of the first dolls produced in 1914 by Louis Amberg & Sons, and the first Charlie Chaplin doll was produced in 1915. The Shirley Temple doll by Ideal was a wild phenomenon in the 1930s, and would go on to be one of the most successful celebrity dolls in history.


Note: My daughter looked so much like Shirley Temple when she was a little girl. In fact, she is still fondly known to one particular maestro as "Curly Top". I guess you could say I've been blessed with a real live Shirley doll of my very own.

32 comments:

  1. She certainly was a precociously talented little minx. What sort of politician she became, I've never really heard. Probably quietly in the background; the opposite of her childhood!

    Have a good week, Cro.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You know, Shirley almost got the part of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. The producers finally nixed it because she couldn't sing as well as Judy Garland. The interesting thing, though, is that Temple was actually closer in age to the Dorothy of the book (in the book she was 5 years old), and the whole image of Dorothy was changed by casting Garland for the part. Of course, I'm partial to Judy Garland anyhow because nobody could ever sing "Over the Rainbow" they way she did!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Roy, Over the Rainbow just wouldn't be the same sung by Shirley Temple! I just watched A Star is Born on TCM the other night. Garland was about 15 years too old for the roll, but it's still a classic. Her work went pretty much downhill after that.

    ReplyDelete
  4. That is one of the sweetest things I have read online, you speaking of your daughter..."I've been blessed with a real live Shirley doll of my very own."

    ReplyDelete
  5. My sister and I were crazy about the Shirley Temple movies shown on TV. One day my parents came home from a shopping expedition with two sets of large Shirley Temple paperdolls. I decided Shirley stared at me too much, so I cut her head off with a pair of scissors, shoved the cut-outs back into the box and seldom looked at her. Now my sleeping beauty paperdolls were a different story..loved them until they wore out. Oh the funny things kids do.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Teresa, ha ha, that sounds exactly like something my live Shirley doll would have done!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Lucky you Dear Willow! I had a little dolly once, a little rubber Gretel. My brother and sister took it to play funerals and promised to retrieve it from the garden later. We never found it again.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I tired quickly of plastic-y dolls, and launching them skyward was indeed an effort to make them more "real". If only they would be like real babies...reactive! I always wanted my dolls to come to life, and was very frustrated "pretending".

    ReplyDelete
  9. Leslie, I hear you. I think I enjoyed playing with a metal bust of Abraham Lincoln more than the platic-y dolls!

    ReplyDelete
  10. I adored watching Shirley Temple movies when I was little. I'm wondering now if my desire to have a head full of curls stems from my early love of Shirley. Alas, I have not a one.

    ReplyDelete
  11. It's funny the posts that unexpectedly draw lots of numbers, eh? I must say, my biggest draws are nowhere near as cute and charming as Shirley Temple.

    I love this post, particularly your story. So glad she finally came down from the roof!

    ReplyDelete
  12. happy solstice....

    catching up!

    xxxxmouse

    ReplyDelete
  13. wonderful post about the doll, love that roof story and Shirley T. I didnt have one of her but I had a Tony Doll, tony as in Tony Home permanents and still have her.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Now you've done it! This post prompted me to dig through old photos until I found one of myself - a Shirley look-alike. I've posted it on my blog. Thanks for the memory, Willow!

    ReplyDelete
  15. I still remember how the rat tail comb pulled as my grandmother twirled my hair into Shirley Temple curls.

    ReplyDelete
  16. I don't have a Shirley Temple story but I do have a rather weird story about a doll. One Christmas my daughter's brand new doll, Rebecca, went missing. I looked everywhere. She had red hair and her own stroller. I only found out years later that my little daughter had buried her in the back yard because she was afraid her little bald doll, Embily, would be jealous. (Embily not Emily) I find that very disturbing. Jaime just turned 30 and seems otherwise normal.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Oh, my, Shari, another tale of a buried doll! Poor little Gretel and Embily. Funny, I never felt the urge to bury any, just make them fly!

    ReplyDelete
  18. No wonder this has been getting lots of hits, Willow, this is a brilliant post! I loved the mix of wonderful anecdotes, fascinating history, poetry and photographs. Thank you for re-posting, this was a delight to read :)

    ReplyDelete
  19. I remember that story of yours! I can just see 5yo you flinging your doll!

    I was lucky enough to have a little Shirley too but her dream of having one gave her three boys; all cute though!

    Sitemeters can be disappointing too.

    ReplyDelete
  20. You were quite special already back then!
    I am more than a little perplexed that your parents would not retrieve your doll for you. How could they bear your sorrow, knowing how much you loved her?

    I only ever had one doll and that one was of the sort you could hardly play with, she was too pretty (six brothers do that to you). I kept here in the pantry, behind the closed door of a spare oven. One morning I was out playing and my mother started to preheat that oven. Smelled bad for days. And my one and only doll was a melted tangle of plastic and blackened fabric.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Uh-oh. Two buried dolls, one decapitated, one frozen and one burnt. It doesn't look good.

    ReplyDelete
  22. I loved that post! I had just become a follower of yours. My mother was a teenager when tiny Shirley Temple first hit the big screen. She used to tell me about how her little sister, Winnie, declared that Shirley was a midget! My mother took Shirley's side declaring that she was just a talented star and big fight ensued! My mom was always mad about that because she got in trouble for upsetting the baby sister! Sheeees...I guess there is no justice when you have eight sisters! I have always adored Shirley Temple. I hope my Aunt Winnie noticed that she actually GREW up!

    ReplyDelete
  23. Duchess of Willow Manor ~ you always have the BEST posts. And you STILL have your Shirley...frizz and all! ;)

    ReplyDelete
  24. This reminded me of how much I enjoyed the Shirley Temple show on tv when I was growing up....she presented fairy tales...I thought she was so beautiful even then...

    ReplyDelete
  25. My mother used to fashion my sister's and my hair into Shirley's sausage shaped curls. The hairstyle didn't look as cute on me as it did on Shirley.

    I have to say that I still enjoy watching a ST movie. She was a precocious little cutie.

    ReplyDelete
  26. which I did, until she left the room...


    I love that little bit of rebellion.

    ReplyDelete
  27. Thanks for the re-post. You first posted this before I had discovered the door into Willow Manor. Oh those sad and lonely days of yore.

    ReplyDelete
  28. Willow: Thinking of those composite Shirley dolls of the 30's reminds me; your doll is probably a 50's Reliable plastic version. Those composites and Reliables too are; pricey. I'd love to have a real Shirley Temple doll; I wouldnt care if you cracker her face on the pinwheel spin! The poem is reminescent of old homes and doll museum with half buried dolls you cant help but wonder what was that place like back then. Old dolls that are tattered are kinda creepy; but defintely intriguingly fascinating. Your love of flight must have something to do with your state of flight. You were just testing doll-areodynamics! The Norman Rockwell is a classic: Saturday Evening Post? I've not seen this one before. My favourite ST movie: Heidi. Still dream of that loft. Your daughter a sweetie-pie!

    ReplyDelete
  29. willow, We have one thing in common -- both spent our childhood in Michigan. However, my sister was the Shirley Temple fan. Cutouts and blue Shirley Temple drinking glasses were her forte. I found it interesting that you wanted your doll to fly. Love the Norman Rockwell TV antenna print. All good memories for me. -- barbara

    ReplyDelete
  30. Thank you for filling a gap. Always wondered why the Mills Bros sang about a 'Paper Doll' and what it was.
    Rockwell? Wonderful nostalgia.

    ReplyDelete
  31. Oh gosh, what an ending to the Temple dol story. Awww. Something similar happed wiht my little girl and being the good father i am, of course it had to be taken down right away. I did what any decent doting father woudl do--sent my fearless son up to get it, being deathly afriad of heights myself. Oh dear me. Well, my litle princes was thrilled, regardless.

    I have had those exact same flying dreams ...when younger like you. But now that I am older and i suppose creativity doesn't burst forth as much, it is perhaps rather stilted, I simply begin to float upwards, as if in a bubble and then around the place, very very slowly and carefully. not quite as "thrilling," shall we say? LOL.

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)