After I had gotten comments on my script from everyone in the cast, Arthur Freed said, “You’ve caught the tone perfectly, Sidney.”
Judy recorded the score and production began.
From time to time, when Judy was not shooting, she would come into my office for a chat.
“It’s going well, isn’t it, Sidney?” She sounded nervous.
“It’s going beautifully, Judy.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she asked.
I took a closer look at her. She seemed clenched and I wondered what she looked like under her makeup.
I began to hear disturbing rumors. Judy was always late and she had not learned her lines. Production was being held up. She would telephone George Sidney at two o’clock in the morning to say she was not sure whether she could make it to the set that day.
Production finally closed down and that same day, the studio announced that Judy Garland was being replaced. I was saddened. I tried to call her when I heard the news, but she had already run off to Europe, devastated.
The part of Annie was offered to Betty Garrett, a talented young actress who had starred in my play Jackpot and who was married to Larry Parks, who had played Jolson in The Jolson Story.
Benny Thau met with Garrett’s agent.
Thau said, “We want an option for Betty’s next three movies.”
Garrett’s agent shook his head. “You can only have her for this picture and no options.”
So, because of her agent, Betty Garrett lost the role of a lifetime. Betty Hutton was signed to play Annie and the production went forward without any further incidents.
One morning during the shooting, Irving Berlin came into my office and said, “Sidney, why haven’t we done a Broadway show together?”
My heart skipped a beat. Writing a musical with Irving Berlin was a virtual guarantee of a successful show. I tried to sound cool. “I would love to write a show with you, Irving.”
“Good. I have an idea.”
Irving began to pace and tell me about his idea.
I peeked at my watch.
“I hate to interrupt you,” I said, “but I have a luncheon date at twelve-thirty and I have to leave now. Let’s pick up this discussion when I get back.”
“Where are you having lunch?”
“In Beverly Hills, at the Brown Derby.”
“I’ll ride over there with you.”
And Irving Berlin got into my car and rode with me to the restaurant while his chauffeur followed, so that Irving could keep talking about his idea, instead of waiting until I got back from lunch, in an hour. I had never seen such enthusiasm.
That same afternoon, Irving told me he was going to East Los Angeles because a new young singer was going to sing one of his songs. That was Irving Berlin in his sixties, a dynamic genius at the peak of his creativity.
The years were not kind to him. When Irving Berlin was in his nineties, he became paranoid. One day Tommy Tune, the talented Broadway producer and choreographer, telephoned him.
“Irving, I want to do a Broadway musical based on some of your songs.”
“No. You can’t.”
Tommy Tune was surprised. “Why not?”
Irving Berlin said in a whisper, “Too many people are singing my songs.”
To my regret, we never did get around to doing that musical together.
One of the many pleasures of writing Annie Get Your Gun was meeting Howard Keel, a tall, rugged leading man with an incredible voice. Howard had to practice shooting skeet for a scene in the movie, so he and I would go to a skeet range and compete with each other.
He always won.
The production went well under George Sidney’s direction, and the post-production was finally finished.
When Annie Get Your Gun opened in 1950, the reviews were unanimously ecstatic. The New York critics called it the “Top screen musical of the year.”
“Annie Get Your Gun puts movies back on must list.”
“Screen’s Annie better than stage version.”
“Give credit to Berlin and the Fieldses. Runaway hit.”
Betty Hutton received the Photoplay Award as the Most Popular Actress and I received the Writers Guild of America Screen Award for my screenplay.