When Julie Andrews returned to England in April 1958 to prepare for the London opening of My Fair Lady, she flew into the eye of a veritable media storm. The phenomenal success of My Fair Lady in America had generated intense public interest and acclaim, and the return of the show’s British stars was greeted as nothing short of a triumphant national homecoming.
While Rex Harrison and, to a lesser extent, Stanley Holloway garnered their share of attention, notably in the more ‘serious’ male-oriented press (Smith, 12), it was Julie who received the overwhelming bulk of popular media exposure. Her status as “local girl turned big star” was the stuff of cultural legend and the mainstream press was eager to mine its fairytale appeal. As discussed in a previous post, Woman magazine, the biggest-selling British periodical of the era, devoted a lavish five-issue celebrity profile to Julie to mark the opening of My Fair Lady where she was explicitly fêted as a real-life Cinderella: “a rather plain little girl…from an English village”, “a dreamy little girl who has made her dreams come true” and found “dazzling fame and fortune” as “The Golden Girl of Broadway” (Reeder, 29).
When the “Golden Girl” touched down at Heathrow on April 6, “so great was the crush around Julie” that her family had to wait over twenty minutes before they could greet her (Wilcox, 1). Scores of cameramen scrambled to get near her and even the most sober Fleet Street reporters grasped for superlatives. “Julie Andrews, the British actress who went to Broadway to make her name, came back to England yesterday–a STAR,” trumpeted the front page of the Daily Mirror (Wilcox, 1).
But alongside the breathless allusions to jet-setting celebrity and fabulous wealth––“Julie [is] reported to earn £1,000 a week,” gasped the Daily Mail–– there was a marked emphasis on the untarnished naturalness of “our Julie” and how she remained "just an ordinary girl…who adores her home, her family and the neighbours” (Reeder: 29). Almost to a person, reporters highlighted her guileless simplicity and girlish nervousness––“’I’m terrified of the opening night at Drury Lane,’ she confessed” (Wilcox, 1)––and profiled her interest in such homespun concerns as childhood sweethearts––"I love him! I love him! I love him!”–– “brothers, aunts and uncles,” and, even, her pet canary:
“It would be an understatement to say that she remains unspoilt by success. This adorably freckle-faced young lady, as simply dressed as the girl next door, made me feel as if we had known each other all our lives and it was hard to believe she had ever moved more than ten miles from home at Walton-on-Thames” (Johns, 35).
Following the airport media call, Julie was indeed whisked home to Walton-on-Thames for a neighbourhood reunion, a pack of camera-clicking newshounds in eager tow. As befitting this most homely of Home Counties stars, the party was a decidedly domesticated affair: fizzy drinks and ale, LPs on a portable player, and a Dolly Varden cake! Julie was even photographed perched on the floral chintz single bed of her childhood:
“Julie Andrews, honey-haired star of My Fair Lady and the toast of Broadway was the toast of Walton-on-Thames, her home town, last night. Nearly a hundred friends and relatives were there at her parents’ home to welcome back the girl who knocked New York sideways…Julie was so busy shaking hands and kissing old friends that she did not have time to change out of the white jersey frock she arrived in.
Amid cries of ‘Julie, Julie, you haven’t changed a bit,’ her mother shouted, ‘Telephone, Julie. Quickly now, dear.’ And, as Julie rushed to the phone Mrs. Barbara Andrews explained proudly, ‘Some of the people here tonight were actually at Julie’s christening’” (”Toast of the Town,” 8).
For over half a century, these unashamedly sentimental themes of nostalgic domesticity and familial warmth have continued to define the Julie Andrews star image, cemented with abiding force in her iconic screen persona as the world’s favourite super-nanny and played out since in various forms of repetition, revision and refusal––on-screen and off. It was perhaps inevitable then that when the star herself came to publish her own memoirs in 2008, she would give the book the simple one-word title: Home.
“I am told that the first comprehensible word I uttered as a child was ‘home.’
My father was driving his secondhand Austin 7; my mother was in the passenger seat beside him holding me on her lap. As we approached our modest house, Dad braked the car to turn onto the pocket-handkerchief square of concrete by the gate and apparently I quietly, tentatively, said the word.
‘Home.’
My mother told me there was a slight upward inflection in my voice, not a question so much as a trying of the word on the tongue, with perhaps the delicious discovery of connection . . . the word to the place. My parents wanted to be sure they had heard me correctly, so Dad drove around the lanes once again, and as we returned, it seems I repeated the word.
My mother must have said it more than once upon arrival at our house—perhaps with satisfaction? Or relief? Or maybe to instill in her young daughter a sense of comfort and safety. The word has carried enormous resonance for me ever since.
Home.”
(Andrews, 1)
Andrews, Julie. Home: A Memoir of My Early Years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2008.
John, Eric. “My Freckled Lady.” Theatre World. Vol. 54. No. 401, June 1958: 35-36.
Reeder, Joan. “Introducing Julie Andrews’ Own Story.” Woman. 26 April 1958: 29.
Smith, Godfrey. "Fair Lady's Man." Sunday Times. 13 Apr. 1958: 12.
“Toast of the Town is ‘My Fair Lady’.” Daily Mail. 7 April, 1958: 8.
Wilcox, Desmond. “I Love Him! I Love Him! I Love Him! Says Julie Andrews.” Daily Mirror. 7 April, 1958: 1
© 2018, Brett Farmer. All Rights Reserved