As “Oz The Great and Powerful,” Disney’s prequel to “The Wizard of Oz,” readies to hit the big screen next weekend, it’s with a tang of bittersweet that I’m reminded of my friendship with one of Oz’s citizens. I’m talking about the late Karl Slover, a bonafide denizen of Munchkinland.
I first met Karl three years ago through some fellow members of the Little People of America, an advocacy organization for people of short stature. With a pair of dwarf kids myself, I’m privy to the tightly knit network of little people throughout the country. The world of small people is indeed small.
In early 2010 I arranged for the 91-year-old Slover to make an Atlanta appearance. This would include him signing autographs and participating in a Q&A before a screening of “Oz,” and also attending a meeting of our local chapter of the Little People of America.
Part of the arrangement included me providing meals for Slover while he was in town. I reached out to several restaurant owner friends, who were more than honored to host and provide a meal to a genuine Munchkin.
Our Way Cafe in Decatur was the first to open its doors to my newfound diminutive friend. They actually spread the word and throngs of people were there to greet Karl when he arrived. Some little girls were dressed in Dorothy costumes while others were clutching their “Oz” memorabilia for Slover to sign.
I hosted a brief Q&A at the restaurant with Karl, who liberally shared his on-set memories with the audience. Before stepping away from the microphone and digging his fork into his dinner, Karl offered an unsuspected surprise.
He burst into a chorus of “We’re Off to See the Wizard,” which not only caused an impromptu sing along, but also tears to well up in my eyes. It was a magical moment that rivaled any spell or otherworldly enchantment that takes place in the land of Oz.
The next day was Karl’s appearance at the Plaza Theatre in Atlanta for a special 35 millimeter screening of “Oz.” The sellout crowd packed the movie house to get a glimpse of Slover as he introduced the movie. When a 21-year-old version of Karl appeared on screen as a Munchkin trumpeter, the audience burst into applause. Afterword Karl stuck around and signed autographs for the massive crowd.
That evening my family took Karl and a celebratory group of friends and family to Mellow Mushroom in downtown Decatur for dinner. Slover wowed the dining party with tales of rubbing elbows with the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, and Lon Chaney, Sr.
At one point during dinner, my daughter Violet, who was 5 at the time, disappeared underneath the table.
Suddenly, to Karl’s shock, Violet popped right up and into his lap. Thankfully, he didn’t have a heart attack in mid pizza bite.
I asked Violet why she did it, and she replied, “I just wanted to give Mr. Karl some love.”
That was absolutely easy to do. Karl became our friend that weekend, and we fell in love with his gentle demeanor, unwavering optimism and overall sweetness.
Karl and I kept in touch throughout the next several years, and I would visit him at the retirement facility in Dublin, Ga. that he called home.
My last visit to Dublin was in November 2011 when I said goodbye to Karl. Today I can’t watch “The Wizard of Oz” without recalling the lively and loving spirit that was Karl Slover. Hopefully one day when I make it over the rainbow, I’ll see his cherubic face again.
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