Family Weekly
January 18, 1959
f-v--. ,. ?V ,, - ' ir I - , i . " -;,K-- " ")v
V
Grandma Martin can still strike a pin-up posa at
fetching as a starlet or (left) stand side-by-side
with daughter, Heller, and act like her big sister.
and other prima donnas, is amazed at Miss
Martin's lack of temperament
"She never complains, sulks, or belittles another
performer," he said. "I think she's the happiest
star in show business. For instance, in Alaska
when fog forced us to detour into Nome, we
arranged to have the show beamed by short wave
to the GIs in Kotzebue, above the Arctic Circle.
The only place in Nome with a piano in tune was
a waterfront saloon, a real dump. There, with an
audience of Eskimos who'd never heard of her,
Mary put on her show, wearing her lavish Main
bocher gowns. She loved it"
Miss Martin rejoined us, and on our way out of
the theater we got to talking about her family.
"When I first left home," she recalled, "Father's
only advice was, 'Let conscience be your guide.'
Maybe it's corny but I've always tried to live by
that rule and I've handed it down to my children.
I feel strongly that the moment you go against
your conscience, something clicks and you know
it's wrong. That happened to me when I went into
my first nonmusical dramatic play, 'Kind Sir,' with
Charles Boyer. It really wasn't for me and it
failed. I felt I hadn't been true to myself.
"There was the time my son, Larry, staged a
teen-age rebellion when he was 16. We had repri
manded him for being out late the night before.
Larry announced, quite violently, that he didn't
want to have anything to do with me or the
theater. Of course I was hurt Larry insisted he
wanted to be a veterinarian and, since he was born
in Texas, he wanted to be educated there and live
there. So we sent him to Texas to finish high
school. My parting words were, 'Larry, let your
conscience be your guide.'
"At school, I heard he was given the lead in two
class plays. At the end of the year, he found a job
to earn enough for a bus ticket home. He was too
proud to write me for money. When he entered '
our apartment, the first thing he said was, 'Mom,
I've made a mistake.' Today Larry is 25, married,
and the father of Heidi, my wonderful grand
daughter. He's now completely dedicated to the
theater. He opened in his first Broadway play last
Fall as the second juvenile lead."
With her 16-year-old daughter, Heller, Miss
Martin is like a big sister. At six, Heller played
Mary's little sister in the road production of
"Annie Get Your Gun." In London with her
.mother, she studied ballet at the famous Sadler's
Wells School. At 13, Heller was the maid, Liza, in
the West Coast tour, New York, run, and phe
nomenal telecasts of "Peter Pan." She seemed
destined for stardom.
But last Summer she worked as a nurse's aide
at New York Hospital. There she witnessed death
for the first time when a little boy she adored died
of leukemia. It was a moving experience. Now,
at a Quaker school in Pennsylvania, Heller has
decided to forsake the theater and become a nurse.
"No, I'm not disappointed," Mary Martin assured
me. "I think it's thrilling. Heller found she was
wanted and needed at the hospital, and it's terribly
important for her to do what she wants to do. Her
conscience is pointing the way for her."
"The hallidays' vacation Shangri-La is their 600
' acre coffee ranch in the interior of Brazil. At
this hideaway, 50 miles from the nearest telephone,
they'll relax next Summer.
It's a long hop from Weatherford, Tex., where
the Mary Martin saga started. Her father was a
lawyer, her mother a violin teacher. At five, Mary
fell in love with an audience when she sang at a
firemen's hall, and she went on to take dancing
and singing lessons. Sent to a school in Nashville,
Tenn., when she was 16, she hated it. To make
sure she wouldn't go back to book-learning, Mary
married Ben Hagman, a boy from Fort Worth.
After two years the marriage broke up and Mary
returned to Weatherford with her infant son. When
the dancing school she set up burned down, Mary
persuaded her father to stake her to Hollywood.
For three years she took so many screen tests
that she was dubbed "Audition Mary." One Sun
day on a Trocadero "talent night" program, she
created a sensation with a hot swing version of the
classical "II Bacio." A New York producer was in
(Continued)
Fmll Weekly, January li, ItSt