our house was not a home--10/16/26

16 Oct 2026

our house was not a home--10/16/26

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Today's selection-- from Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! by Liza Minnelli. The dream house of Liza Minnelli’s childhood turned out to be something very different than a dream:

“Mama, Sid, and I moved into an amazing new house in the summer of 1953. I'll never forget the first time I saw it. For me, it was like that moment in The Wizard of Oz when everything changes from black-and-white to color. 144 South Mapleton Drive, tucked into a corner of Holmby Hills near Westwood, was something else.

“Suddenly, we were living in a beautiful two-story, nineteen-room house that was more than a mansion. It was a Tudor-style estate. The only question was–could we afford it? With production just beginning on A Star Is Born, Mama and Sid had no doubts. The big bucks would be rolling in soon enough. Well, good luck with that. If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. I know now that South Mapleton Drive was a symbol of dysfunction from the start. Sid was a gambler, determined to impress Mama. She was struggling with pills and alcohol. Not exactly the right moment for two people to bet their future on a movie yet to be made.

“I was seven years old on the day we moved in, and just walking through the house was an overwhelming experience. Five bedrooms. Five baths. A forty-foot living room with a vaulted ceiling, a black Steinway piano, a huge dining-room table, even a trampoline in the backyard. There were beautifully decorated bedrooms for me and my new baby sister, Lorna, who was born several months before. Talk about luxury! We had two spacious dens. Renaissancestyle chairs. A golden rug. Italian statues. This was the home where I'd grow up over the next seven years. And it seemed to be the epitome of a very rich person's house. A symbol of the American Dream with a picture-perfect family lucky to be living there.

Minnelli with her mother on the set of Summer Stock in 1950

“But who were we kidding? My life on South Mapleton Drive would be anything but normal. Looking back, I realize that moving into that beautiful albatross of a house was strike two for the end of my childhood. (Strike one was kicking Mama in the head several years earlier. We'll get to strike three in a bit). I've often said that I became an adult too early and a child much too late. Our years as a ‘family’ in Holmby Hills would be turbulent and unpredictable, every day. Life was luxurious, unstable, and in many ways very scary. Mapleton is where I began my first real adult job, as a caretaker for my mother–something no kid should ever experience.

“But it was also here, in this tree-shaded oasis, that my dream and determination to become a dancer, actress, and singer took root. I spent hours in my room, learning songs from Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, of course Mama, and all the greats from the American Songbook. It's the house where I sang at parties for her friends and spent hours practicing my dancing in front of a mirror. I was fascinated watching Mama rehearse new material at the piano with Roger Edens. He was her original vocal trainer at MGM, a lifelong friend and a major creative force in the studio's Golden Age of Musicals. As I watched, she gave me a master class in how to be, and not to be, an artist, and I was a quick study. My memories of her are as vivid today as they were back then, the very best and the very worst of everything.

“We were living in a dream house, but it was not a home for long. By 1960, when I was fourteen, Mama and Sid were forced to sell the place under foreclosure. They were no longer able to outrun their mounting income-tax and financial problems. This was a shock but, in truth, the turbulence jolting our family began before we even moved into the new house.

“My sister, Lorna, a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl with golden curls and a beaming smile, was born on November 21, 1952. I was so excited to have a baby sister. I practiced taking care of her with my dolls, even before she arrived. I'm happy to tell you that she was, and still is, much more fun than any doll! I've always adored her and my brother, Joey, born three years later.

“Soon after Mama came home from the hospital, we thought she'd be happy, too. Within days of returning, she tried to kill herself.

“We now understand that Mama was wrestling with postpartum depression, made worse by overdosing on barbiturates, amphetamines, and alcohol. A cycle of chemical highs and lows that was beyond any comprehension–not just for me, but for all the adults around her. She was wrestling with terrible demons that arrived and departed with zero warning. It was a foreshadowing of what my own life would become decades later.”