Talking before a youth forum in Hollywood recently, Margaret O'Brien took the microphone in hand and announced to the packed hall: "All teenagers aren't delinquents. Most teenagers, in fact, are pretty wonderful. The trouble is the only ones you ever hear about are the small percentage that got into trouble. Kids are the same everywhere. They have similar interests. They ask the same questions, do the same things. They're good, intelligent and healthy-minded. Considering what the teenagers today will be the leaders of the world tomorrow, it might help if adults took a good honest look at us. They'd truly be proud- and perhaps give us a little more encouragement."
Then, as is typical of all the speeches Margaret makes for teenage causes, she ended with the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Prayer for Peace. Her teenage audience understood and responded with deep feeling. "It's important that each one of us, who are teens, try to combat some of the bad publicity we receive," Margaret sid later. Naturally shy and retiring, Margaret would just as soon face a raging lion as stand up to a packed auditorium of unknown faces. "But we have to face up to our responsiblities if we expect to be handed more important ones as we get older," she explains.
She tries always to remember this. Last year when she went to Japan fo rthe filming of "Girls Hand in Hand," forty thousand people stood at the airport to bid her welcome. With dignity, she humbly thanked them for the opportunity to visit their lovely land. Then, during her stay, with careful concentration, she followed their customs, absorbed the nature of their living. When the picture was completed, her Japanese host said, "You are gentle and tender- more Japanese almost than Japanese girls." This was a tribute to Margaret and her efforts to appreciate national differences.
It wasn't her ability to handle chopsticks, but rather her very nature that won the Japanese. Gentle, soft-spoken, humble and shy, Margaret captured the heart of the world as a child. If anything, since then, the wistful fey part of her personality has become stronger. At eighteen, she has developed a basic personality that will not change ever. "Being the kind of person I am," Margaret reflects today, "has been both a help and a hindrance to my growing up. I am aware that I'm what most girls would consider emotionally immature because I didn't start dating till last year. But when they started dating at fourteen or fifteen, they were going to a coed school and it was a necessary social move. When I was that age, I was completely absorbed in my acting. My mother and friends were enough for the small amount of time I had left over. And I'm glad I waited to date. Because I'm having a wonderful time now when other girls my age are getting bored with dating. I have crushes and get excited about a boy, and yet I'm old enough to know it's puppy love!"
Margaret is delightfully typical of the feminine teenage logic. Admittedly lazy about household chores, she did acquire a sudden spurt of interest in the grocery shopping when the owner of the Royal Market put his ex-Navy son on the delivery route. Margaret discovered an overpowering fondness for the market. She enjoys dating but prefers not to date just one boy all of the time. With no intention of marrying for several years, she is having for the first time the full social life of a teenager and loving it. "She's a far cry from the little girl who scalped her dolls and lived in a tepee in the living room." flashed her vivacious mother, Gladys. "Frankly, I'm relieved that she's enjoying herself so much outside of her career. But I learned a long time ago that Margaret grows up in her own time. She will not be pushed. I thought for a while she'd never by interested in anything by acting. It's still the passion and dedication of her life, but now she's having the happiness of other interests. Someone said once when she was a little girl that Margaret was like a poet- lost in her own imagery of fairy tales. In one way she still is in her own world, and that's because of me. Trying to be mother-manager, teacher and all things to one tiny person. I took all the reponsibilities and decisions on my own shoulders. Now, when I try to give some to Margaret, she finds she likes it the old way."
"The other day," she remembered, "a producer called about a script that was just right for Margaret. So I handed her the pone before she realized what it was all about. She stuttered and fumbled and finally said she'd think about it. When she hung up, she turned to me and wailed, 'Why did you do that? You know I can't talk about myself!' But she's learning." "Margaret is learning to take the initiative, make decisions and stand on her own feet. Like any teenager, she is setting her own abilities. Sometimes successfully and other times falling flat, but at least she's trying. Under her quiet nature," Gladys said thoughtfully,
"Margaret has a determination about her career that is as strong as any I've seen. She has never stopped acting. When she was released from M-G-M at that 'awkward age,' she immediately turned to the stage and television. Her inner drive has never let her contemplate for a moment the possibility of life without theatre. "She learned a lot in that period. While everyone was advising her to relax and wait until she was old enough for ingenues, Margaret was reading scripts constantly. She learned the thrill of a live audience when she toured with 'The Intruder.' Then she found the perfect part in Clare Booth Luce's 'Child of the Morning.' The play didn't make it to New York, but Margaret's reviews put new strength and determination in her. She was consistently called a young Helen Hayes. And when she won a nomination for her performance in 'Jennie Kissed me' from Chicago's Sarah Siddons Society, she was estatic. Not so much at the thought of winning the award, but rather that she was competing with Lillian gish and Deborah Kerr."
Her performance in Chicago broke all records for four years. Margaret played winter stock, summer stock, television and did one motion picture during that period. Columbia starred her in "The First Kiss." However, the name had to be changed to "The Romantic Age when all agreed that Margaret's little pixie face and long dark hair gave her the appearance of a child, much too young for a first kiss. She was fourteen at the time and she didn't get kissed. It was during this period that her mother and her aunt, Marissa, started the insidious campaign to whack off their protege's long tresses. The answere was a firm but gentle, "Nope." Margaret liked her hair long. "Short hair will make you look older- more mature," argued her agent. "If the script calls for long hair, you can wear a wig," wailed Gladys. "Short hair will make you look sophisticated-smart," urged Marissa.
As producers in all entertainment media continued to look at her as a sweet, young twelve-year-old, she suddently acquiesced. "At first," she said patting her swirling short hair, "I felt naked. But then I got to like it- temporarily that is. When I am twenty or twenty-one, then I'll let it grow long again. But for now, it's effective." She was sitting on the stage of RKO's studio 10 waiting to be called for a scene. She is back in pictures as an ingenue. She is ready now for the next lap in her career. David Butler, the producer-director of "Glory," is so pleased with Margaret you would think he'd conjured her up himself. Margaret excused herself as she was called for a scene. After a brief conference with Mr. Butler, she went to her coach, Gladys O'Brien. They had a low studied conversation. Margaret took her place in front of camera. "Roll em," said David Butler softly. Margaret's eyes filled with tears, inner defeat fought its way to her sensitive features, her body slumped slightly in dejection. The tears flowed fully. "Cut," murmured David. He walked up to Margaret, took her hand in his and said, "Thank you." Wiping her eyes, she smiled timorously. "Was it all right?" "It was slightly wonderful," he responded, and Margaret dropped back on the folding chair with a bright smile and asked her mother, "What were we talking about?"
Her ability to create a mood and snap out of it over and over again has been the subject of much comment since she was a chiild. One memorable time as a tot, she climbed up on Edward Arnold's lap and gave a long speech with only an occasional answer from Arnold. Time after time she would go through the scene, even veteran actor Arnold would fluff one of his few lines. It was a heart-rending scene. But after each take little Margaret would go smiling back to her mother and talk the things that little girls talk until time to go back and do it again.
Here on the set of "Glory," she was proving unconsciously that she hadn't lost her ability to become completely absorbed in her character and then flash back to normality at the sound of Cut. "Glory," incidentally, is the kind of a picture that has every one in the cast and crew crowing. It is the answer to the 'awful teens.' It's a beautiful picture of a girl's love and faith in a horse. With Charlotte Greenwood and Walter Brennan backing her, the horse finally wins for her. To prove how grown up she is, Margaret also wins John Lupton, the hero! Gus Schilling, who plays an important role in the picture, was really enthusiastic. "Psychologically, I think we're all tired of the downbeat pictures about kids- motorcycle maniacs, hot rodders, drug-addict dandies. 'Glory' is the turning of the tide. It's a clean picture, beautiful and exciting, and the kids are real. Everybondy's excited about it. I've been in movies since Thirty Eight. I've never seen a cast so concerned with each other. Nobody steps on anybody else's lines or upstages. I think Margaret's quiet dedication has a lot to do with the whole atmosphere."
Gus didn't mention that for the first time Margaret lets loose with her vocal chords in this picture. She sings three numbers. The title song, "Glory," has a chance of being a hit. She also does a blues number, "Gitting Nowere Road," that will prove to many that she is not a kid any more. When Margaret fluffs, it is painful to watch her self-condemnation. While recording one of the songs with Byron Palmer and three other fellows, she fluffed a few times. "What a stupid jerk I am!" she would moan pounding her head. "Honey, even Peggy Lee doesn't always get it perfect the first time," soothed David Butler. But Margaret would not soothed, she's the villain and she knows it. "I'm so sorry," she would apologize, her big eyes full of humiliation. "It's all my fault." Then she would settle into complete concentration and do the job. For Margaret is a perfectionist where her career is concerned. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she is not a perfectionist in her personal life.
Margaret is guilty of youth's number one crime- laziness. When not working, she will not, except for the cause of fire, move. She will sit all day. She will walk down-stairs only under duress. She loves to be babied and is overjoyed when Gladys succumbs and brings her breakfast in bed. She is completely blind about household duties- seeing nothing that needs doing. And her clothes are exactly where she steps out of them. Although she loves to design her own clothes and decorate her home, and particularly her own room, after the creative end of the job is done- so is Margaret. She decorated her own bedroom with green carpet and drapes. The drapes match the quilted bedspread of green with strawberries. Now she has a hankering to redo the whole room around a fancy canopied bed. She helped Gladys decorate the house in a green and white motif, but once her aesthetic sense is appeased, her interest waned. Upkeep and tidying are unknown to her. She is particularly addicted to skirts with contrasting blouses. These she dresses up with scarves and belts. With her deep brown eyes and lovely glowing complexion, she leans toward pinks, reds, navy blue and white. She has a passion for costume jewelry and, as Margaret has no money sense whatsoever. Gladys is continually speechless. It seems Margaret has learned that old American pastime, 'Charge it.'
She must, admitted Gladys in despair, "have at least five-thousand dollars worth of costume jewelry. She doesn't think to ask the price and I've found out the hard way that costume jewelry can be very expensive. I caught her stuffing something under the sofa pillow when I came in the other day. "What are you hiding, Margaret?" I asked. "Just a cheap old string of pearls," Margaret explained pulling her treasure out in the open. "When the bill came in, I almost fainted," Gladys continued. "That cheap old string of pearls cost three hundred dollars! She picked up another television set the other day- only three hundred dollars. Now we have a set in every room in the house. She loves to buy clothes, but she usually wears the same small group of dresses all the time. Once she paid two hundred fifty dollars for an evening dress and after wearing it once gave it to a girl friend.
Because her mother is anxious for Margaret to make her own decisions, the sudden sprees are accepted with as little show of apoplexy as possible. As money means nothing to Margaret, it is taking time to get across the intricacies of high finance. A few weeks ago, the spending subsided and it was felt that Margaret was beginning to get the point. Whereupon she returned home one day driving a beautiful white Victoria Ford. Proudly showing off her new possession, she explained judiciously, "I was almost sold on the Thunderbird, but I remembered what you said, Mother. I figured it would only seat two people- so that was two thousand dollars a seat. That was too expensive, so I bought the Victoria!"
Perhaps that unusual childhood explains a lot of the too-young, too-old complexities in Margaret's personality. As a child she met more dignataries than Queen Elizabeth. She had lunch two and three times a week with Prime Minister Atlee at Ten Downing Street; she has been to Europe three times and around the world. At five and six she was a habitue' of the Stork Club. Twenty-One and the best hotels and restaurants of the world. It is little wonder that she found no desire to date just to go someplace when other girls were beginning to stir impatiently at their limited world.
"I know," she continued with a twinkle, "that I haven't grown up completely. I've never wanted to be older than I am. I don't think girls should try to hurry. We fool no one but ourselves. If we take our time and learn by our mistakes, we manage to get to adulthood pretty well rounded." Margaret's ability to admit her mistakes readily and with a sense of humour comes partly from the good teaching of her mother and partly because of her steady devotion to her religion. She has always combined her spiritual life with everyday living as much as humanly possible. Her deep faith in God has given her a balance wheel of humility and gratitude to overweigh the onus of being a child star. She regularly attends services at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Beverly Hills. Her dainty dressing table is covered with religious statues. One beautiful one of the Christ with teh crown of thorns was given to her by Charles Laughton. As he handed it to her, he muttered, "Don't tell my wife, Elsa I gave this to you. I stole it from her!"
Her religiion has given her an outgoing interest in others. She does charity work in all denominations of churches. She never turns down a request to do a benefit. She received a citation from Washington, D.C. for Most Funds for Overseas Veterans. It was a total of seventeen million dollars and it took over a year to do. One of the projects closest to her heart is the youth program of Dr. Irving Ress. A leading Los Angeles gynecologist, he works with youth on the theory that "I bring more babies into the world than anyone else. I want to help them to grow up to be good citizens." Dr. Ress' theory captivated Margaret. She has made at least six speeches at youth forums of B'nai B'rith from Hollywood to Baltimore.
Margaret's confidence in God and people is heart-warming. To her everyone is creative. She loves plain people. Gladys has taught her not to jealous of anybody. "If you can't be better than they are, then that's your fault," she told her daughter. And Margaret learned her lesson well. But her quiet determination to get what she wanted was inborn. When she read the script of "The Life of Esther Costello," she knew the part was for her. A girl, deaf, dumb and blind, who eventually gets her faculties back in a dramatic climax- that is bread and butter to an actress. "Mother", she cried, "you've got to get this for me." She promptly started saying a prayer each night for the part. "You're the only one who can get it," her mother explained.
"Once Margaret makes up her mind, you can't change it," her mother added. She loved her role in "Journey for Margaret" when she was a tiny girl so much that she decided she was Margaret. So we went to court to legalize it. The judge looked at her and said, But what if your name is Jennie in your next picture? Will you want to change it to Jennie? She looked at him steadily and said, 'My name is Margaret.' He stared at her a moment and then legalized the change. "And now," Gladys continues, "she's obsessed with this part. David Butler wants her to do two more pictures, but she honestly can't talk about them until the Esther Costello picture is settled."
The closing day of shooting on "Glory," Margaret decided to give a dinner party at her favorite Chinese restaurant, Kowloon's on Pico Boulevard. By seven-thirty the long table was filled with guests. David Butler sat at one end of the table and Margaret at the other. It was hard to realize that the lovely and very proper young hostess was full of delightful idiosyncrancies. Delightful things like knowing where everything is in her very cluttered bedroom or being terribly late or terribly early for every appointment because she doesn't know the meaning of time; or buying a whitge car because someone told her the color was easier to keep clean; or being horribly hurt when she got a parking ticket (she put three diems in the one-hour-for-one-dime meter); or always being in a hurry or working on nervous energy when she's acting and not moving a muscle when she's not. Who knew of her most precious possession- a Christmas gift given her by the late Lionel Barrymore when she was a little girl? His grandmother's pin of amethysts and seed pearls. To her they are the crown jewels of the Royal Family of the theatre. And she remembers what Lionel Barrymore said as he watched "Journey for Margaret." "She's the only actress besides my sister, Ethel, who has brought tears to my eyes in thirty years."
But that was long ago. The maturing, beautiful young lady at the head of the table was not resting on past laurels. She has never rested. She was still on fire to prove herself as an actress. David Butler stood up and came the long way down to Margaret. He is a big man. He leaned down to speak to his hostess. "Honey," he said quietly, "I may have a chance to produce and direct 'The Life of Esther Costello.' If I do, no one but you will do the part."
Margaret's brown eyes gleamed, then she said very simply, "Thank you. I'll continue to pray, Mr. Butler." THE END

The article is accompanied by a half page black and white phot of Margaret getting out of her car- "It's important that each on of us, who are teens, try to combat some of the bad publicity we get."; a small black and white photo of Margaret looking into a mirror putting on ear rings- Maggie's mad about costume jewelry- has no money sense at all. Mom faints when the bill comes in.; a quarter page black and white photo of Margaret in a sweter and black pedal pushers walking toward the camera- She didn't start dating until last year- too absorbed in her acting; a small black and white photo of Margaret kissing John Lupton- In "Glory," John Lupton gets Maggie's first screen kiss.