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Snow White lived in a quaint, thatched cottage in the woods with seven little men; Adriana Caselotti lived in a Polynesian-style, wooden-framed bungalow in Los Angeles. Incongruously, however, there was a wishing well in the front garden and, when you rang the doorbell, the entry phone sang I’m Wishing and Someday My Prince Will Come.
Whenever I visited Los Angeles, I would call on Snow White. If the animated princess in the fairy tale represented a child-like innocence and naive goodness, Adriana—well into her old age (though she never looked old)—still embodied those qualities. In our more cynical age, there were those who dismissed her, at best as an eccentric, at worst as plain batty. […]
