Wizard’s Coat

We chuckle as the munchkins push each other out of the way to introduce themselves to their young savior, and we smile as the scarecrow dances his way off his

perch and onto the yellow brick road. While it's become a beloved part of cinematic history, read today, the film carries behind it a legacy of conflict, injuries and ballooning budgets that only pulled in three million dollars during its box office run in nine well behind a little film you might have heard of called Gone with the Wind, which was reported to have grossed almost two hundred million

dollars by the time it left theaters. But after the success of Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Hollywood saw Fantasy as the next big thing. MGM pulled out all the stops for its adaptation of L. Frank Baum's novel and put Judy Garland, one of the brightest stars, front and center, surrounded by a who's who of talent, Margaret Hamilton's as the Wicked Witch of the West, Roger Boulger as the Scarecrow, and character actor Frank Morgan as

the Wizard himself. Actually he was more than that. Yes, he played the Wizard, but Morgan also portrayed the carriage driver, one of the Emerald city guards, and the gatekeeper, you know, the guy who talks to Dorothy and her companions about horses of a different color. But there was one role in the film of special import to Frank Morgan, Professor Marvel,

the fortune teller at the beginning of the story. The role is small, only on screen for a few minutes, but there's something special about it that makes it one of the most magical moments ever captured on film. You may remember Professor Marvel's costume from the movie, but in case you can't allow me to jog your memory, he wore checkered pants, a white ruffled shirt with a high collar and a wide dark tie. Over his shirt, he wore a patterned vest and on top of it all,

a long coat. The vest looked like repurposed upholstery from an old church, the pants and shirt mismatch of eclectic styles that appeared old even when they were new, and the coat, well, the coat was a serendipitous find. According to Mary Meyer, the publicist of the movie at the time, the coat really brought the whole ensemble together and gave

Professor Marvel a look of lost grandeur. He was a man with little to his name, and unlike the Scarecrow or the tin Man, who required custom costumes due to their technical nature's, Professor Marvel's was a hodgepodge of second hand scraps. But the coat, the coat needed to be something just a little bit different from the rest of the costume. The director wanted the character to wear something

that had once been nice but was now tattered. Rather than make something new and then weather it, the wardrobe department just searched thrift shops all over Hollywood for the perfect coat, and soon enough they found it. It was a green Prince Albert jacket with wide lapels and long tails. It was the jacket of a man of stature, at least it would have been at the turn of the century. Now it was a hand me down for a fraud

stir in a Hollywood fantasy, and it was perfect. Frank Morgan arrived at the studio for test shots a few months before his scheduled filming date. A costume and makeup people needed reference photos to use when it came time for him to shoot his scenes. They styled his hair and dressed him in the various pieces they had acquired to round out Professor Marvel's unique look, finishing it all

off with that coat. It was on one hot afternoon when Morgan decided to empty his pockets to lighten his load, and he came across something. It was a name sewn into the inside of the jacket pocket. No one could believe it. The costumer contacted the coats tailor back in Chicago to verify the discovery, and, as it turned out, a piece of clothing they owned did in fact belong to someone intimately tied to the film they were working on.

The ratty coat hanging on Frank Morgan's shoulders had belonged to a man from New York who had passed away some years before. He had once advocated for the women's suffrage movement, and he had given the world fourteen fantastic tales of people and places living somewhere over the rainbow. Frank Morgan's coat had been made for the man who had, in a way given him the most important role of his career, a man named L. Frank Baum. We've seen them on TV, mediums who claim they can speak to

the ghosts of deceased loved ones. Perhaps it's a letter of the alphabet that triggers them, or a smell or someone's name, whatever it is. The person on the other side is always astounded by how much the medium claims to know. You'd think they were really talking to the dead. We know better now, and we're able to see through

a lot of the techniques. Mediums used to dupe their audiences how they speak in generalities and convinced the other person to give up more information without even realizing it. But at the turn of the century, Hans had fooled them all. He wasn't a medium, but he had convinced everyone that he had all the answers. Complicated equations, difficult words to spell musical riddles. Hans knew it all. He traveled all over Germany with his translator, Wilhelm von Austin,

right there beside him. Hans was known to gather crowds of men, women, and children who tried to push him to the limits of his expertise, and every time he came out on top, no one could stump him. One man, however, thought that he could catch him. Dr Oscar Funks was a psychologist who wasn't convinced of Hans his talents. He saw something else going on while everyone was distracted by his big brain. Doctor Funks discovered Hans didn't know anything at all. I mean, he knew some things, but not

as much as everyone. But Hans, like today's TV mediums, had mastered the art of cold reading. When he was close to an answer, he'd watched the person's body language change. If they tensed up, if their lip twitched, or their hands shook, he knew he had them right where he wanted them. He'd give his answer based on that shift, and over of the time he was right. Doctor funkst published his findings to better educate the crowds coming to see Hans perform but Hans didn't care, neither did the

throngs of people coming to see him. He continued to travel around Germany for several years until his translator died in nineteen o nine. But some good did arise out of doctor funkst work. He came to the conclusion that every person gave off the same body language Hans had noticed. No matter how hard they trying to suppress it, there was no way to hide it, and so his work

is still used by comparative psychologists today. When they conduct studies, they keep their subjects in complete isolation, so they can't read each other's mannerisms and ticks. In some studies, computers are used to administer questions and record the answers. Since they're incapable of emotion. It's called the clever Hants effect. Today, a commonplace to find it an action is in drug

sniffing dogs used by police. They're often given subconscious cues by their handlers to find drugs where they don't exist. But that still leaves a big question unanswered about Hans and his special skills. If he was so good at it and made so much money from it, why did he stop. Why didn't he just hire another translator. The answer, it turns out, is simple, because Hans couldn't hire anyone.

He couldn't talk, at least not with his mouth. He gave all of his responses by using his foot, stomping out the answers to math questions and musical riddles, among others. He'd been taught to do simple algebra, tell time, read spell, and calculate for actions. All of this sounds pretty basic, I know, like something any adult or even a child could do. So what made Hans so special? It's really simple.

Hans wasn't an adult. He wasn't even a child. Hans, you see, was a horse, and his translator, Wilhelm von Austin, was also his trainer. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me

Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious,