'Tis Herself
Biography & Autobiography
Simon and Schuster
Mar 1 2005
336
The Hollywood star traces her career and personal life, discussing such topics as her relationships with fellow actors, her marriage to plane crash victim Charles F. Blair, and her work on specific causes.
Maureen O’Hara recently received a life time achievement award at the Irish film and television awards. While she will always be remembered as the red-haired spitfire Mary Kate Danaher in The Quiet Man, it comes as a surprise to realise just what an amazing career this Ranelagh-born actress has had. Having left Dublin at the tender age of 18 as a protégé of Charles Laughton, Maureen O’Hara became one of the most sought after actresses in Hollywood.
Spanning six decades, her CV includes an enviable string of classic films including Rio Grande, The Brave and The Beautiful, How Green Was My Valley and Miracle on 34th Street. O’Hara has starred opposite some of Hollywood’s most dashing leading men including Jimmy Stewart, Henry Fonda and Rex Harrison, while her most enduring partnership, that with fellow Quiet Man star John Wayne, encompassed five films and 40 years of friendship.
One of the few survivors of Hollywood’s Golden Age, O’Hara, now a sprightly 84, decided to set some things straight “before some self-serving writer pens a heap of rubbish about me after I’m gone from this earth”. And straight up she is. Age has not diminished her and she pulls no punches, whether talking about her troubled relationship with director John Ford or, more personally, her first two difficult marriages.
‘Tis Herself is a wonderfully anecdotal romp through Hollywood of the 1950s and 1960s and O’Hara is as unstinting in her admiration for many of her co-stars as she is critical of others. Jimmy Stewart was “a remarkable actor, but not a generous one” and Rex Harrison purposely belched in her face during dance sequences while Henry Fonda, nicknamed Ol’ Weepy Eyes because he could cry on cue, she considered gifted and tough.
A good portion of the book is devoted to O’Hara’s work with John Ford and John Wayne, particularly the “silly Irish story that won’t make a penny.” Although O’Hara’s prose itself turns Technicolor when she talks about Ireland, The Quiet Man was a strange time for her. Ford, who she affectionately called Pappy, became obsessed with her, sending her a series of odd love letters, breaking into her house and badmouthing her around Hollywood. It’s to O’Hara’s credit that, even though her career was affected by his spiteful behaviour, he didn’t manage to sink it completely.
Written in a delightfully confiding style, the only problem with ‘Tis Herself is that it’s over all too soon. A memoir as classy as the lady who penned it. 
