Oscar. The Academy Award. By any name, it inspires the same hush of reverence. For those fortunate enough to receive one—deserved or not—it represents the brass ring of Hollywood achievement, the ultimate benediction bestowed by one’s peers. Such was the moment for Margaret O’Brien, an eight-year-old girl widely regarded then—and now—as one of the most gifted child performers in screen history.
By Allan R. Ellenberger
In 1945 she was given a Special Academy Award as Most Outstanding Child Actress of 1944 for her shining role in Meet Me in St. Louis. The award was a miniature Oscar statuette. This award was only given sporadically in the 1930s and 1940s. Some of the other winners were Mickey Rooney, Deanna Durbin, and Judy Garland who was Margaret's co-star that year as well.
Born Angela Maxine O'Brien, Margaret's rise was quick and incredible. Signing her for one line in Babes on Broadway (1941) came as soon as an MGM executive spotted her photo gracing a magazine cover when she was four years old. It proved more than enough to get her noticed. Studio bigwigs instantly saw her uncommon naturalism and emotional savvy, giving her a starring role opposite Robert Young in Journey for Margaret (1942), a wartime tearjerker. The picture also gave her her new moniker.
More bit parts followed, then came Lost Angel (1944), her first film written especially for her. Later that year, MGM cast her as Tootie Smith in its new Technicolor extravaganza Meet Me in St. Louis at the request of director Vincente Minnelli.
MGM went all out, reportedly spending $100,000 building a replica St. Louis street on its back lot. Joining O'Brien were Judy Garland, Lucille Bremer and Mary Astor. Meet Me in St. Louis included such future standards as "The Trolley Song", "The Boy Next Door", and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", gently sung by Garland to her kid co-star.
Released near the end of 1944, the film was a sensation. Critics across the country singled out Margaret’s performance for special praise. The Hollywood Reporter declared her the hottest property on the MGM roster: “Hers is a great talent… The O’Brien appeal is based on her naturalness. She’s all America’s child—the type every person in an audience wants to take into his arms.”
The acclaim was international. In London, Meet Me in St. Louis became the city’s biggest hit in months. The Daily Express predicted what would soon come to pass, noting that her “quiet, compelling acting, worthy of an Academy Award, steals the show.”
The Academy agreed.
On March 15, 1945, at a ceremony held at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, Margaret O’Brien was presented with her Special Oscar by director Mervyn LeRoy. The evening’s emcee, Bob Hope, lifted the diminutive winner to the microphone so she could be heard by the national radio audience. “Will you hurry up and grow up, please?” Hope quipped, wrestling gently with the moment.
As LeRoy handed her the statuette, he said, “To the best young actress of the whole year of 1944. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Margaret replied earnestly. “I really don’t know what to say. Thank you very much.”
She did have a speech prepared—one that her mother had written for her. But she scrapped it at the last second and decided to talk from her heart instead.
Margaret O’Brien would earn many awards in her lifetime. She would even have her hands and footprints embedded in Grauman’s Chinese Theatre forecourt. But for Margaret, nothing was as special as that little golden Oscar. Unfortunately, she would never get to keep it.
In 1958, at the O’Brien home on Beverly Drive, Margaret kept her awards in a separate room. The family’s maid, who had polished them before, took the Oscar and several other trophies home for cleaning. After three days, she failed to return. Mrs. O’Brien called to dismiss her and demanded the awards back. Shortly thereafter, already in fragile health, Margaret’s mother suffered a relapse and died.
In the fog of grief that followed, the Oscar slipped from immediate memory. Months later, Margaret attempted to contact the maid, only to find the phone disconnected. The woman had moved without leaving a forwarding address. The Oscar was gone.
Years passed. The Academy graciously provided a replacement statuette, but it was never the same. For more than three decades, Margaret quietly scanned memorabilia shows and catalogs, hoping against hope that the original might surface.
It finally did—by accident.
In late 1994, Saugus resident Steve Neimand, an avid collector of baseball memorabilia who frequently browsed antique shows and swap meets, stumbled upon a miniature Oscar at a swap meet held at Pasadena City College. The statuette was being sold alongside two other awards O’Brien had won, and Neimand paid $500 for the trio. He later recalled that he had seen the same Oscar two years earlier at a Rose Bowl swap meet for $100 but had passed on it, unsure of its authenticity. This time, realizing he might never encounter it again, he purchased it.
Shortly thereafter, a photograph of the Oscar appeared in a memorabilia auction catalog. A member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences recognized it immediately as stolen property and alerted the organization. Neimand was stunned. “When I found that out, I wanted to get it back to her,” he said. “She even came over to my office and told me how it had been stolen.”
Memorabilia collector Steve Neimand, who found Margaret’s Oscar at a Pasadena swap meet and the actress receiving the statuette.
On February 7, 1995, nearly half a century after it was first placed in her hands, Steve Neimand formally returned Margaret O’Brien’s original Oscar in a ceremony held at the Academy’s Beverly Hills headquarters. Despite having paid $500 for the statuette, Neimand and his friend—attorney Jim Gurdine of Canyon Country—refused reimbursement. “He’s one of those good-hearted kind of people,” Gurdine said. “He just wanted to give it back to her instead of selling it.”
For Neimand, the experience was worth more than money. “The good news,” he said with a laugh, “is that she invited me and my wife to the Academy Awards ceremony that year.”
Margaret O'Brien holding her long-lost statuette with me beside her (no, I'm not intoxicated... just one of those unfortunate moments from the lens). (Photo Credit: Michael Schwibs / Author's Collection).
Above is Margaret's Oscar and two other awards that her maid had taken home to clean. All three awards were together when found at the Pasadena swap meet.
Fortunately for me, I was able to witness the event firsthand. A few years previously I had met Margaret through our mutual friend, Randal Malone, when I was doing research for my first book, a biography of silent screen star Ramon Novarro. Margaret knew Novarro when they worked together in Heller in Pink Tights (1960) and I interviewed her for my book. That was the start of a friendship that blossomed as we kept in touch. We finally agreed that after I finished the Novarro book we would concentrate on a biography and film chronicle of Margaret's career and we would meet for lunch or dinner to discuss her life and films.
So, when she learned that her long-lost Oscar was finally going to be returned in a formal ceremony at the Academy’s headquarters, she asked me to be there—not only as a friend, but as a witness for the book. Standing beside her that day was a thrill beyond words, a genuine once-in-a-lifetime experience. And in a moment, I never could have anticipated, I found myself holding my very first Oscar—albeit a miniature one, but with history, perseverance, and a happy ending, decades in the making.
Addressing the press, Margaret O’Brien summed up the moment simply: “For all those people who have lost or misplaced something that was dear to them, as I have—never give up the dream of searching. Never let go of the hope that you’ll find it, because after all these many years, at last, my Oscar has been returned to me.”
It was Hollywood’s happiest ending—not on screen, but in gold.
Editor's Note: As the story of Margaret O’Brien’s lost Oscar reminds us, Hollywood history is often shaped as much by chance and memory as by gold statuettes—and few careers better reflect that delicate balance than hers. Readers who wish to explore O’Brien’s extraordinary life beyond this singular episode, from child stardom through her later achievements and legacy, can find a full, authoritative account in my sanctioned book, Margaret O’Brien: A Career Chronicle and Biography, written with her cooperation and insight, and available at the publisher, McFarland or on Amazon.
If you enjoyed this story of Margaret O’Brien’s long-lost Oscar and its remarkable journey home, please take a moment to comment, rate, and share—it helps keep Hollywood’s forgotten histories alive.
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