wacky tacky Icons: Mary Wickes, What a Character!

Mary Wickes
June 13, 1910 - October 22, 1995

From postmistress/switchboard operator (It Happened to Jane), to wisecracking housekeeper (Annette, On Moonlight Bay, By the Light of the Silvery Moon, Sanford and Son, I'll See You in My Dreams), to gargoyle with a heart of gold (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mary Wickes is your favorite actor whose name you probably don't know.  Imbuing every one of her roles with the plain-speaking, salt-of-the-earth gumption suggestive of her Midwestern roots, Mary Wickes was the go-to character actress for nearly every no-nonsense nun (Sister Act, Sister Act 2, The Trouble with Angels, Where Angels Go Trouble Follows, Punky Brewster) and nosy neighbor (Dennis the Menace) that Hollywood created during her seven-decade career.

"You don't say."

Featured in practically all of Hollywood's more memorable productions, scanning her extensive IMDb page is to realize that Mary Wickes is at the heart of wacky tacky's most beloved screen classics.  At this time of year, the role that immediately springs to mind is Pine Tree, Vermont's most misguided, if well-intentioned, hotel housekeeper.

Columbia Inn's head of housekeeping, Emma Allen (Wickes), counsels
General Waverly (Dean Jagger) in a pivotal scene from White Christmas (1954). 

It is an underreported fact that White Christmas' entire love story hinges on Wickes' character; her meddlesome eavesdropping results in filmdom's greatest weather-related, hotel-reviving, sister-act-involved, Crosby-crooning, yuletide misunderstanding.  And without her eleventh hour cajoling of the General, there would be no glorious, snowy, Technicolor resolution.

As a child, I couldn't forget her star turns in White Christmas, Dennis the Menace, and Punky Brewster.
To the world, she was unforgettable as ballet mistress, Madame Lamond, on I Love Lucy.

There is little on record in regards to Mary's private life.  For that reason alone, she had just the kind of career I would want should I ever become a player in motion pictures.  Friendly with the major stars of both the big and small screens, Wickes side-stepped the relatively short career spans of those same friends by avoiding the press and Hollywood's biggest pitfall, vanity.  Taking a face perfectly suited for radio and turning it into a lifetime of steady screen work, she will always be an inspiration to those of us blessed with less-than-matinee-idol looks.

"Pick a Little, Talk a Little"

Wickes played one of River City's clucky society matrons, Mrs. Squires,

 in one of my all-time favorite movie musicals, The Music Man (1962)

Some of Wickes' earliest film roles were as uncredited dress extra.  Turning a corner, her career gained momentum when she donned a nurse's uniform for two of 1942's greatest films, Now Voyager and The Man Who Came to Dinner, both starring Bette Davis.  

"Dora, I suspect you're a treasure."

Always forthright, always funny, always fallible (but never mean-spirited), Mary Wickes brought tremendous charm to every character she played.  As a consistent presence in my preferred childhood entertainment, she is unquestionably one of my favorite actresses - character or otherwise.  I, too, suspect she is a treasure!

(Source)

Don't you just love Mary Wickes?  Do you have any other favorite character actors?  Wherever you live, we hope that Mary Wickes ushers in a White Christmas for you this year!

Mary Wickes is a panelist on Match Game '76

Mary Wickes guest stars on Doris Day's radio show (1952)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Crazy Crafty: I'm Dreaming of a BIG Dream Pet!

Perhaps it is the flocks ("herds" doesn't allow for such clever word play) of flocked reindeer so ubiquitous at the holidays. Perhaps it is because they are the only pets that don't amplify my seasonal allergies.  Or perhaps it is the fact that they are a perpetual line item (bold and underlined) on my yearly letters to Santa Claus.  Whatever the reason, Dream Pets always remind me of Christmas.  It doesn't really matter that the only two Dream Pets I own that are not currently in storage include a backpacking squirrel and a red-and-white poodle; I can't help but get wistful for the holiday season whenever I see a Dream Pet.

At least I think it's a poodle...

One might think that after my tedious dealings with Mary's Showgirl Halloween costume that I would have gotten my fill of red velveteen but after giving the remnants a second look, I started dreaming of a big Dream Pet.  Attempting to recreate the red-and-white poodle Dream Pet in a large scale, would be my way of finally setting Halloween aside and welcoming in the winter holiday.

I actually had nearly all the materials on hand - red velveteen, fiber fill,
button nose, pink material for the tongue and eyelids, and black vinyl for the
eyelashes.  The only thing I needed to buy was one skein of nubby white yarn!

Much like the crack team at Madame Tussaud's, I had to carefully study my subject, taking countless measurements, making several plaster molds, and photographing it from every angle.

Or maybe, and much more likely, I just dove head first into making my own pattern with
absolutely no technical understanding of pattern drafting/grading for poodles whatsoever.

After one rough draft, I started sewing, pushing past the usual thoughts of, "This is never going to work," that occur whenever I begin a new project.  I was afraid I had hit a major roadblock when, after stuffing its red, velveteen body, I sewed the Dream Pet shut and stood up, or rather tried to stand up, my strange, faceless creation.  The disproportionately-gargantuan head toppled the pet over every time.  Mildly discouraged, I forged ahead, figuring that adding the tail would act as a suitable counterbalance; and wouldn't you know, it worked! 

What resulted, however, was hardly an exact replica of the toy.

Generously described as only a reasonable facsimile, the poodle's

fluffy fur was achieved by making the world's longest chain of single 

crochet (I'm trying to make that sound fancy but after one lesson, 

more than fifteen years ago, the only crochet stitch I still remember 

how to do is a single crochet).  I simply wrapped the legs and looped 

the crochet chain over the tail's wire frame.

Sure, my big Dream Pet's enormous head is cocked at a jaunty angle, the fur is bright white, and the eyes
are a little high on the head.  Nevertheless, I think this pair could easily pass in public as parent and child.

To heighten the seasonal splendor, and to avoid the inevitable cease-and-desist
orders from the Dakin Corporation, I averted what would otherwise be considered
blatant trademark infringement by making my Dream Pet's bow out of vintage
"Velvette" ribbon in emerald green and topping it with a holiday pick from the
local cake supply store!

This Christmas, while most people are dreaming about luxury goods and a giant, red bow atop a brand new car, you can be sure that Mr. Tiny's Dream Pet reverie will only be briefly interrupted by the occasional visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.  

The most common emails I receive all revolve around the same basic
question, "Mr. Tiny," they ask, "in what do you sleep?"  The answer is
always the same - my glasses and a stocking cap, you weirdos!

Incidentally, the photographer indicated that this is possibly the most disturbing
photo she's ever had to take of me.  All I can say is, "Sweet dreams, everybody!"

Do you dream about Dream Pets?  Do you collect them?  Which is your favorite?  Does a giant Dream Pet defeat the purpose of these terrifically-tiny little toys?  Whether you dream of Dream Pets or White Christmases, we hope that all your holiday dreams come true!

"White Christmas" - Bing Crosby

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny