The greatest Christmas movie ever made, by virtually universal acclamation, is Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). In the aftermath of the Second World War, Capra, a veteran of the war, crafted, with lead actor and fellow World War II veteran Jimmy Stewart, a holiday tale of a despairing small-town man who realizes at Christmastime that his seemingly insignificant life has actually made a vital difference in the lives of thousands of other people.
Today, It’s a Wonderful Life is #21 on the Internet Movie Database’s list of the top 250 films of all time. It’s not just a great Christmas movie; it’s a great movie. And yet, of the millions of viewers who have viewed and cherished the movie during one Christmas season after another, relatively few have read the modest little short story that inspired Capra’s classic film.
How fortunate it is, then, that back in 2014, the good people at Simon & Schuster offered the world a Christmas gift, in the form of a fresh, red-bound reprinting of Philip Van Doren Stern’s 1943 short story “The Greatest Gift: A Christmas Tale.” It is a lovely little story, and the unlikely saga of how it became the basis for one of the best-loved films ever made could constitute a small Christmas miracle of its own.
Philip Van Doren Stern was a hard-working writer and editor who built a strong career at publishing houses like Alfred A. Knopf and Simon & Schuster. During the Second World War, he led the U.S. Office of War Information, and directed the production of “Armed Services Editions,” small and easy-to-carry editions of popular American books that would fit inside the pocket of an infantryman’s M-43 field jacket. As the war was ending, he edited an edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s work for the Viking Portable Library; bringing together as it does letters, poems, stories, and nonfiction by Poe, with thoughtful commentary by Stern, The Portable Edgar Allan Poe (1945) remains an essential edition of Poe’s work (and one that holds a special place of honor on the shelf of my library here in Northern Virginia). And Stern wrote a number of American Civil War histories, of which his Secret Missions of the Civil War (1959) is probably the best-known – fun, engaging, well-illustrated works of popular history.
But for all that success over the course of a lifetime advancing the cause of American letters, Stern today is best known for a 35-page story that he crafted in 1943, near the beginning of his career as a fiction writer. As his daughter Marguerite Stern Robinson explains in an engaging afterword, Stern was not having much success placing his Christmas story “The Greatest Gift” with publishers, and therefore he decided to send the story out, as a sort of literary Christmas card, to his circle of friends. How surprised and flattered Stern’s friends must have been to receive, as their Christmas card from the Stern family, this extraordinary labor of love – and how interesting it is to wonder what one of those original Christmas cards is worth today.
The Greatest Gift starts out on a note that will be strongly familiar to It’s a Wonderful Life’s legions of fans: “The little town straggling up the hill was bright with colored Christmas lights. But George Bailey did not see them. He was leaning over the railing of the iron bridge, staring down moodily at the black water” (p. 1). His dangerous meditations on “how long a man could stay alive” in the icy water below are interrupted when he is interrupted by “a quiet voice beside him” speaking the words, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you” (p. 2).
George Bailey wonders who the shabbily dressed stranger beside him might be, observing that the stranger “was a most unremarkable little person, the sort you would pass in a crowd and never notice – unless you saw his bright blue eyes, that is. You couldn’t forget them, for they were the kindest, sharpest eyes you ever saw” (p. 2). The stranger is not called Clarence – indeed, he is never given a name – and he is never designated as an Angel Second Class (AS-2). As in the film, however, George is irritated, and at the same time abashed, at the stranger’s knowledge that George has been considering suicide: “You know you shouldn’t think of such things – and on Christmas Eve of all times!” (p. 3).
George Bailey, in response to the stranger’s insistence that George has much to be thankful for, pours out his feelings of despair: “I’m stuck here in this mudhole for life, doing the same dull work day after day. Other men are leading exciting lives, but I – well, I’m just a small-town bank clerk that even the Army didn’t want. I never did anything really useful or interesting, and it looks as if I never will. I might just as well be dead. I might better be dead. Sometimes I wish I were” (pp. 4-5). In passages like this one, it is easy to see the genesis of the more fully developed character of George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life – a talented and ambitious young man who dreams of traveling the world and doing great things, but who feels bitter at never having gotten to leave his job at the Bailey Building and Loan in Bedford Falls, New York.
When George follows up on his nihilist thinking by saying that “I wish I’d never been born!”, the stranger seizes upon George’s words with an odd sort of excitement: “Why, that’s wonderful! You’ve solved everything!” The stranger then informs George that “All your troubles are over. Your wish, I am happy to say, has been granted – officially” (p. 5).
The stranger then sends George off to explore his brave new world – giving him a satchel of brushes, so that George can pretend to be a brush salesman; it’s the 1940’s, after all, when one might see brush salesmen going from door to door in many U.S. communities.
And with that send-off, George starts discovering what the world would have been like if he had never been born. The bank that would have been his place of employment is closed; without George to take the bank job, and do that job conscientiously and well, his rival Marty Jenkins took the job. Marty Jenkins then stole $50,000 from the bank and fled, and the bank closed as a result.
Visiting his parents (who, of course, don’t know him), George sees a picture of his brother Harry, asks about Harry, and is told by his father that Harry has “been dead a long while. He was drowned the day that picture was taken.” George then recalls a long-ago summer day when he and Harry “had gone swimming. Harry had been seized with a cramp, he remembered. He had pulled him out of the water and had thought nothing of it. But suppose he hadn’t been there!” (pp. 20-21)
As in It’s a Wonderful Life, George finds that his absence from the scene has caused bad consequences to pile upon one another, in an escalating cycle of unhappiness. Marty Jenkins’s act of embezzlement from the bank caused his brother Art to turn to drink; Art subsequently married Mary Thatcher, the woman who was to be George’s wife, and one of the most painful scenes of the story shows George seeing that Mary is now trapped in an unhappy marriage with a drunken and quite-possibly-abusive husband.
George hurries back to the bridge that he considered jumping from – and thankfully, the stranger is still there. George pleads with the stranger: “Change me back – please. Not just for my sake, but for the others. You don’t know what a mess this town is in….I’ve got to get back. They need me here.” The stranger says that he understands, and adds that “You had the greatest gift of all conferred upon you – the gift of life, of being a part of this world and taking a part in it. Yet you denied that gift” (p. 31).
At first, the stranger seems disinclined to grant George’s request for reinstatement to his former life – “You brought it on yourself” – but then adds that “since it’s Christmas Eve” (p. 31), George should close his eyes and keep listening to the Christmas bells and see what happens…
In the above-mentioned afterword, Marguerite Stern Robinson writes with evident love and pride about how her father’s story, inspired by a dream, found its way into the hands of Frank Capra. “After reading The Greatest Gift, he became excited about its possibilities as a film, and wanted Jimmy Stewart for the leading role” (p. 41). We all know, of course, how very well that film project turned out; and admirers of the film who find their way to this delightful little book will no doubt agree with Robinson’s closing declaration that “The Greatest Gift is as compelling today as it was seventy years ago because, in this story, lies a powerful message about the significance of the lives of all of us” (p. 53).
This edition of The Greatest Gift is a great gift indeed.