Some of the Munchkins in 1939's "The Wizard Of Oz" were children, not midgets, and they've had some trouble getting respect:
Everyone knows about the Munchkins, portrayed by 124 pituitary midgets in the 1939 motion picture starring Judy Garland. These days, the word "Munchkin" -- now included in some dictionaries -- is synonymous with small. Credited in the film as the Singer Midgets, the diminutive cast was comprised of little people from all over the United States, with the core group being part of the famous troupe of performing midgets managed by Leo Singer.
But not all of the Munchkins were little people. It may be a footnote in Hollywood history, but let the news be spread that about 10 young girls of normal height, ranging from 7 to 9 years old, danced and sang alongside the little people 70 years ago on MGM's massive Soundstage 27.
...Last year, the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce honored the entire diminutive citizenship of Munchkin Land with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame near Grauman's Chinese Theatre that simply reads: "The Munchkins." Nothing about "midgets only." Yet, the handful of former child Munchkins who had been invited to the event were denied introduction and participation in the unveiling because they were not "vertically challenged." Where is the Lollipop Guild and their sweet greeting when you need them?
"That was disappointing because my family was with me," says Todd, of West Covina. "You can pick me out as clearly as any of the midgets in the film, but they knew the midgets would draw the crowds, I guess."
..."I can pick myself out in the movie right there on the yellow brick road, dancing the skip, and I recall it so vividly," says Clark, a former dancer and now a grandmother of four who lives in Corona del Mar. "The set was so huge. I was in awe. I felt like I was in the middle of a fairy tale . . .
...The girls didn't have a lot of interaction with Garland. Bruno recalls that she tried to get an autographed picture from the young star: "It was frightening. I'd go up to her trailer and knock on the door and ask for a picture. I remember screwing up my courage every day. When I asked, she'd look down at me with those great big eyes and she'd say, 'I'm sorry, I don't have a picture today. Can you come back?' "
...Clark can still kick up her heels and do the Munchkin skip, the choreography they learned on the yellow brick road. Her grandkids have begged her to teach them the recognizable step.
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