The Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz

But in reality the diminutive stars of The Wizard Of Oz were more likely to be happy because they were high on booze and drugs. Behind the scenes of one of Hollywood’s most beloved family classics lie tales of drunkenness, debauchery, opium ­parties and midget sex orgies. With the death on Tuesday of Karl Slover, aged 93, one of the last surviving actors who played Munchkins in the 1939 movie, another piece of Tinseltown legend has disappeared, taking with him many secrets of the outrageous behaviour of the film’s “little people”, as they liked to be called. Slover played the lead trumpet in the fanfare for the Mayor of Oz who welcomes Dorothy to the Technicolor dream. He was among the 124 midgets, most born with pituitary deficiencies, hired by MGM for the 10-minute scene that includes the songs Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead and Follow The Yellow Brick Road.

They got smashed every night and the police had to pick them up in butterfly nets Judy Garland

On screen the Munchkins are child-like members of the Lollypop Guild and Lullaby League, singing in high-pitched little voices in a psychedelic land. But off-camera they lived large, running riot and creating havoc, claimed insiders. “They were little drunks,” alleged Judy Garland, who starred as Dorothy and knew a thing or two herself about battling addictions with booze and pills. “They got smashed every night and the police had to pick them up in butterfly nets.” Party central was the Culver Hotel, one of the earliest skyscrapers in Los Angeles. The six-storey building was near the MGM studios and producers housed all their Munchkin cast under one roof.

“They had sex orgies in the hotel and we had to have police on just about every floor,” claimed the film’s producer Mervyn LeRoy. It was probably the world’s biggest gathering of midgets ever assembled and provided an unprecedented opportunity for pint-sized sex and over-sized indulgence. They arrived from all across North America and Europe. Many had never seen another midget before. “It was a summit of epic proportions,” says Stephen Cox, author of The Munchkins Of Oz. “It will probably never happen again in the history of humankind. Proportionately correct midgets are a rarity today because of advances in hormonal treatments.”

MGM producers became increasingly alarmed by mounting reports of Munchkin outrageousness. A female midget sexually propositioned a full-sized stagehand. Some made advances to their full-sized cast and crew-mates and one even dated the 16-year-old Garland. L ife for midgets in Depression-era America was not easy. Several sought refuge as carnival freaks and sideshow exhibits or worked in vaudeville as comedy acts. Inevitably, some had fallen into unsavoury ways before being transported to Oz.

“Many Munchkins were midgets who made their living by panhandling, pimping and whoring,” claimed Bert Lahr, who played the film’s Cowardly Lion. “Assistants were ordered to watch the crew of midgets, who brandished knives and often conceived passions for other, larger personnel.” “You had to watch them all the time,” said the movie’s make-up artist Jack Dawn, who recalled that midgets loathed being treated like children. “They were adults,” he said. “They did not like us touching them or lifting them into make-up chairs.” The Munchkins were also being ripped off by a cut-throat manager, Leo Singer.

Their salary of $100 a week was substantial by Thirties’ standards but Singer took half their earnings as commission. More galling to the Munchkins was the fact that Dorothy’s dog Toto earned $150 a week. Despite the stories of debauchery, in recent years several of the few remaining Munchkin troupe have tried to paper over their alleged youthful indiscretions. Munchkin memoirist Cox, who interviewed more than 30 Munchkins for his book, believes: “There were parties but nothing like Hollywood legend.” Jerry Maren, aged 91, the original Lollipop Kid and one of three surviving Munchkins, says: “How could you get drunk on $50 a week?”