NFR Project: “The House I Live In”
Dir: Mervyn LeRoy
Scr: Albert Maltz
Pho: Robert De Grasse
Ed: Philip Martin
Premiere: Nov. 9, 1945
10 min.
First, I can only defer to Art Simon’s masterful essay on the subject, which you can read here.
This short film had a profound impact on people. The title song became a big hit. Frank Sinatra performed it throughout his career. Half of its creators were later blacklisted or surveilled by the government.
The project originated with Sinatra, who pitched it to the successful screenwriter Albert Maltz (“Destination Tokyo,” “Pride of the Marines”) and director Mervyn LeRoy (“Little Caesar,” “I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang”). The idea to illuminate the highest ideals of America at a point, immediately after World War II, when it seemed as though we had saved the world, was messianic.
The title song premiered in 1942 in the musical revue Let Freedom Sing. It was the creation of composer Earl Robinson and lyricist Lewis Allan, aka Abel Meeropol, who wrote the classic anti-lynching ballad “Strange Fruit” in 1937.
This is classic early Sinatra. He is as skinny as a toothpick. He is shown in the studio, recording “If You Are But A Dream.” He stops and goes into the alley, for a smoke, of course. Everybody smoked then.
He sees a bunch of kids chasing a little kid, knocking his books out of his hands, treeing him on a pile of garbage. Frankie interposes himself. What’s going on?
The kids all hate the little kid because they don’t like his religion. (It is implied that he is a Jew; the script is not so specific.)
Well, first Frankie tells them they’re a bunch of Nazis. Which the kids don’t like. But then Sinatra launches into an eloquent defense of racial and religious equality. He demonstrates that blood transfusions don’t discriminate. “Religion makes no difference, unless you’re a Nazi or somebody as stupid . . . God created everybody. He didn’t create one people better than another . . . Do you know what this wonderful country is made of? It’s made of 100 different kinds of people, and 100 different ways of talking, and 100 different ways of going to church, but they’re all American ways.”
He tells of them of an interfaith bombing crew that destroyed a Japanese warship. He convinces them that being prejudiced is for dopes. “Don’t let anybody make suckers out of you,” he says.
He goes to reenter,
but the kids stop him and ask him what he does. “I sing,” he replies. “You’re
kidding!” they fire back. Frankie launches into the song. There is no montage;
the camera stays trained on Sinatra as he puts the tune over, using his impeccable
phrasing.
“What is America to me?
A name, a map, or a
flag I see;
A certain word,
democracy.
What is America to
me?
The house I live in,
A plot of earth, a
street,
The grocer and the
butcher,
Or the people that I
meet;
The children in the
playground,
The faces that I
see,
All races and
religions,
That's America to
me.
The place I work in,
The worker by my
side,
The little town or
city
Where my people
lived and died.
The howdy and the
handshake,
The air of feeling
free,
And the right to
speak my mind out,
That's America to
me.
The things I see
about me,
The big things and
the small,
The little corner
newsstand,
And the house a mile
tall;
The wedding and the
churchyard,
The laughter and the
tears,
And the dream that's
been a growing
For a hundred-fifty
years.
The town I live in,
The street, the
house, the room
The pavement of the
city,
And the garden all
in bloom;
The church, the
school, the clubhouse,
The million lights I
see,
But especially the
people;
That's America to
me.
The kids, all happy now, walk away. One kid helps the picked-on kid down, and off they go, side to side.
Now, there were more lyrics. The studio thought they were too liberal, so they didn’t use them, which incensed lyricist Meeropol. Here they are:
My neighbors white
and black,
The people who just
came here,
Or from generations
back;
The town hall and
the soapbox,
The torch of
liberty,
A home for all God's
children;
That's America to
me.
The words of old Abe
Lincoln,
Of Jefferson and
Paine,
Of Washington and
Jackson
And the tasks that
still remain;
The little bridge at
Concord,
Where Freedom's
fight began,
Our Gettysburg and
Midway
And the story of
Bataan.
The house I live in,
The goodness
everywhere,
A land of wealth and
beauty,
With enough for all
to share;
A house that we call
Freedom,
A home of Liberty,
And it belongs to
fighting people
That's America to
me.
Pretty hopeful words! They are inspirational and aspirational. And hopelessly against the tide of the sentiments of today. Or are they? It’s a propaganda film, sure, but it’s sincere. This articulation of the ideals of equality and enough for all was enough to get you, even then, as a creative person, in big trouble with the powers that be.
The government didn’t respond well. The Second Red Scare was soon to encroach on the body politic. Sinatra was untouched, but screenwriter Maltz was later blacklisted for his leftist stances; composer Earl Robinson was blacklisted as well. Lyricist Meeropol was scrutinized by the government; he famously adopted the orphaned sons of the executed Rosenbergs.
This is Hollywood liberalism at its finest. It articulated desires that have been crushed by reality. Can America live up to the words in this song? We shall see.
The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: ‘The Lost Weekend.’
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