Jimmy Stewart’s Daughter Reveals the Truth About Him

Jimmy Stewart was born on May 20, 1908, in Indiana, Pennsylvania, into a modest household that offered little hint of the extraordinary life ahead.

After graduating from Princeton University in 1932 he headed to Broadway and summer stock, eventually making his way to Hollywood.

His first official film roles arrived in 1935 with The Murder Man and continued with You Can’t Take It With You in 1938.

The following year Mr. Smith Goes to Washington propelled him to stardom and earned his first Academy Award nomination.

The Philadelphia Story in 1940 cemented his status. When war came he joined the Air Force and served with distinction as a pilot.

His first postwar film, 1946’s It’s a Wonderful Life, struggled at the box office yet grew into a beloved holiday classic that still defines him for millions.

He later explored darker territory in Rope and Rear Window, found comedy gold in Harvey, and rode the range in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.

Nothing seemed able to stop his career, yet something essential remained missing. Despite the image of the approachable everyman, Stewart was surprisingly shy.

MGM chief Louis B. Mayer worried about his lack of interest in romancing co-stars and arranged dates for him.

In time the same qualities that made Stewart a box-office draw also made him a sought-after bachelor.

His wartime record, handsome yet approachable looks, and distinctive voice drew the attention of Hollywood’s most glamorous women.

He was linked to Olivia de Havilland, Ginger Rogers, Loretta Young, Norma Shearer, Dinah Shore, and Marlene Dietrich.

Some connections were brief, others more serious, but none proved lasting. Then he met Gloria McLean, a socialite, actress, and model, at a dinner party.

He later admitted it was love at first sight, though the match was far from obvious.

She was divorced and already the mother of two sons, Michael and Ronald. When Stewart married her in 1949 at the age of forty-one the headlines declared that the Great American Bachelor had finally settled down.

Gloria confessed she had worried he might resent the constant presence of her boys. Those fears vanished on his first day off after the wedding when the new family shared a picnic on the beach.

She said he turned every ordinary moment into an occasion and proved a natural hit with the children.

In 1951 the couple welcomed twin daughters, Kelly and Judy. At last Stewart had the family he had long wanted.

His career continued until 1991, when he recorded dialogue for the animated film An American Tail: Fievel Goes WeSt. A few documentary appearances followed in the nineties.

The death of Gloria in 1994 marked the true end of his professional life. His health had already begun to fail.

He needed a hearing aid, survived skin cancer, and struggled with heart probleMs. On July 2, 1997, at the age of eighty-nine, an embolism lodged a blood clot in his lungs and ended his life.

More than three thousand mourners attended the memorial service, which included full military honors. President Bill Clinton called him a national treasure.

Yet the richest measure of his legacy came not from awards or roles but from the family he left behind.

None of the Stewart children pursued acting. Daughter Kelly became an anthropologist, teaching at the University of California, Davis, and living with her husband Alexander Harcourt.

She has said her father would have been relieved she stayed far from the film business.

As a little girl she visited him on set and decided the constant fussing over hair and makeup held no appeal.

She still recalls him sitting in his special chair at home, silently mouthing lines from new scripts without ever speaking them aloud.

That image remains vivid. Yet once he walked through the front door, Hollywood stayed outside.

The boundary made her feel noticed and loved in a way many children of famous parents never experience.

Kelly does not describe her father as a traditional or hands-on parent. He was not the type to help with homework or change diapers.

Instead his life itself served as the example of how to behave. His enormous success never inflated his ego.

The respectful, All-American demeanor audiences saw on screen was genuine. He was invariably gracious with fans and never refused an autograph.

People still told stories of writing him letters in high school and receiving personal replies.

In later years a secretary assisted, but he always signed. His distinctive drawl was equally real and appeared whenever he told long, meandering stories about his life, stories his daughter loved even when they took their time reaching the point.

The light in his eyes dimmed only after Gloria died. Kelly remembers that both parents shared a gentle sense of humor and never leaned toward strict discipline.

When her mother was gone, Stewart seemed to have had enough of the world. He was not clinically depressed, yet he spent most of his remaining days in bed with his two dogs.

Still, she believes he knew he was deeply loved and appreciated the wonderful life he had lived.

Kelly considers It’s a Wonderful Life as relevant now as ever. The film encourages dreamers while reminding viewers that a life’s true value is measured by the people it touches.

She is grateful to those who have made it part of their holiday traditions and regards that tradition as a gift to her family.

It was also one of her father’s favorite projects, largely because of his repeated collaborations with director Frank Capra.

Capra was the one who convinced him he could return to acting after the war.

Stewart was equally proud of his military service, even though the experience left him with nightmares of bombers.

Kelly also remembers him as a warm and attentive grandfather whose presence enriched the lives of all the grandchildren.

Stewart nearly missed his breakthrough role in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington; the part was first offered to Gary Cooper before the studio chose Stewart’s everyman quality instead.

He won an Oscar for The Philadelphia Story yet remained unsatisfied with the award and almost skipped the ceremony until someone persuaded him to attend.

He turned down several future Oscar-winning roles, including On Golden Pond because he could not imagine treating a daughter the way the script required, To Kill a Mockingbird because of its racial themes, and Network because of its language.

Television proved the one medium where he could not succeed. The Jimmy Stewart Show lasted only twenty-four episodes in 1971, and another series in 1973 ended after thirty-seven despite a Golden Globe.

He found the medium too stressful. He also fought against the colorization of classic films and helped persuade Congress in 1988 to require disclaimers on any altered prints.

Acting was never his only passion. By the end of the 1930s he had logged more than four hundred flight hours.

He flew more than twenty combat missions during the war and remained in the Air Force Reserve until 1968.

He later starred in a biopic of Charles Lindbergh, was inducted into the Aviation Hall of Fame in 2009, and has an airport near his Pennsylvania hometown named in his honor.

He was also a poet. The piece he read about his dog Beau on The Tonight Show in 1981 moved Johnny Carson and the entire audience to tears.

A collection of his poems sold more than three hundred thousand copies. Through every chapter, the quiet man who once seemed destined to remain a bachelor proved that the greatest roles are the ones played off-screen, in the ordinary moments of family and quiet integrity that outlast any applause.