Judy Holliday
The mid-twentieth century American stage and screen offered particular rewards to performers who could move between comedy and music without losing their footing in either. Judy Holliday was one such performer — an actress, comedian, singer, and songwriter born in New York City on June 21, 1921, who built a career that crossed film, theater, and jazz.
Working across those forms, Holliday brought something to each that the others didn't supply. Her stage work earned her the Theatre World Award and the Donaldson Awards, early recognitions of a talent that translated well to Broadway's demands. That theatrical grounding did not confine her to a single medium; her film work drew its own attention and its own honors, culminating in the Academy Award for Best Actress — one of the more consequential prizes in American cinema. She returned to the stage with equal seriousness, and the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical acknowledged what her Broadway audiences had already seen. Her work as a jazz musician and songwriter gave her yet another register, one that sat alongside rather than beneath her acting career.
Holliday died in New York City on June 7, 1965, the city where she had been born forty-three years earlier. The range of recognition she accumulated across her working life — stage awards, a major film prize, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame — reflects how thoroughly she moved between forms that other performers often treated as separate territories. The Library of Congress catalogs her under the authorized heading "Holliday, Judy," a small institutional marker for a body of work that drew sustained critical attention across more than one art.
Quotes by Judy Holliday
I'm trying to eliminate every vestige of my own personality, style, approach and get into somebody else's skin. Sometimes I feel I've accomplished it. But when I don't, I'm nobody at all, having left myself at home.
I was bargaining for time away from Hollywood, and Columbia was bargaining for money. I got what I wanted and they got what they wanted. They knew I was so anxious to do Born Yesterday that I’d have done it for a dollar. They gave me the next best thing.
I’ve always loved words. I ate up all the books I could get my hands on, and when I couldn’t get books, I read candy wrappers and labels on cereal and toothpaste boxes.
We gained a great deal of prestige, but not much money. We liked to work so much we couldn’t hide it and the club owners paid us accordingly.
In repose, my face looks as though I had gone through a terrible deal in the last five minutes. I have to disguise the expression and get a glassy-eyed look. That’s something I learned from my dog.
I get very nervous whenever I think about it. I’ve never done a serious play, and I have such awe of the woman – she’s really my only idol. It’s going to be a big stretch – certain people come out on stage and your face muscles automatically tense and you get ready to smile.
You have to be smart to play a dumb blonde over and over again and keep the audience’s attention without extraordinary physical equipment.
I’m trying to eliminate every vestige of my own personality, style, approach and get into somebody else’s skin. Sometimes I feel I’ve accomplished it. But when I don’t, I’m nobody at all, having left myself at home.
I’m a born and bred New Yorker. I belong here. Everytime I leave it’s like losing a leg.