They say the happiest days are those when babies arrive. Frank and his wife Maud felt that way in the spring of 1898, because this upcoming niece or nephew carried special significance.

The father was Maud’s brother, Thomas Clarkson Gage. Their mother was a leading suffragist. Clarky, as his family called him, was a businessman. After graduating first in his class at Cornell, he struck out for Dakota Territory. There, he started a successful store, helped his family invest in Western real estate, and even found time to marry Sophie Taylor and start a family.

Daughter Matilda arrived in 1886. Although they wanted a bigger family, pregnancy proved elusive. It was five years until daughter Alice was born—and quickly died later the same day. The tragedy was made worse by happening just before Christmas 1891.

Despite their grief, they kept trying to have another child. And trying. And trying.

Then, just when it was starting to seem hopeless, fortune smiled on them. Sophie became pregnant a third time, with the baby expected in June. The child they had longed for since losing little Alice was now within reach.

Frank and Maud were ecstatic for their extended family. Maud and Clarky were close; the little sister wanted only happiness for her big brother.

Besides, looking forward to her new niece or nephew’s arrival helped Maud take her mind off her own less-than-ideal circumstances.

Though she dearly loved husband Frank, his career had been as haphazard and checkered as her brother’s had been spectacular.

Frank had hopscotched over the years from one random job to another. He had been an actor, a playwright, a theatre manager, a general store owner, a chicken farmer and a newspaper editor. Lots of positions, but always the same result: failure.

With the 19th century winding down and now in his early 40s, he was living with Maud and their quartet of growing boys on Chicago’s West Side. Although he alternated between newspaper reporter and traveling salesman to keep his family fed, he was itching to jump into yet another new field, one that worried Maud most of all.

Frank wanted to write children’s books. An “iffy” proposition at best.

So, Maud channeled her anxiety into something positive by looking forward to her relatives’ upcoming blessed event and praying that it would soothe the lingering hurt from the daughter they had lost.

Sure enough, Frank and Maud were over the moon happy when word finally came on June 11, 1898. Dorothy Louise Gage had arrived. The couple rushed to Bloomington, Ill., where Clarky, Sophie and now 12-year-old Matilda lived.

Aunt Maud instantly fell in love with her tiny niece, doting on her nonstop. Dorothy was a sweet baby, smiling sooner than most infants. Maud went to Bloomington every time she could, swaddling Dorothy with nonstop attention and affection.

But as the leaves began turning color that fall, Dorothy suddenly became sick. Her condition worsened, her little body growing weaker each week. The doctor diagnosed it as “congestion of the brain.”

On Nov. 15, Dorothy closed her eyes for the final time. She was five months old.

The family was distraught. But it hit Muad the hardest. She was truly devastated, taking to her bed and staying there for long periods.

Frank tried to console his grieving wife. Since he was working on his first children’s book just then, her decided to lift her spirits by giving the best gift an author can bestow.

He named the story’s lead character, a young farmgirl from Kansas, Dorothy Gale, in honor of little Dorothy Gage. Maud was deeply touched by the thoughtfulness.

It was the tale of a girl who runs away from home, is blown over the rainbow by a twister and has fabulous adventures with a trio of friends while being chased by a wicked witch.

When “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” was released in September 1900, it was a huge hit, selling more than three million copies over the next half-century. Frank would write a total of 14 Oz books, and the story would be made into a classic movie starring Judy Garland in 1939.

It took a while, but L. Frank Baum finally found the success that had eluded him for so long. And by touching countless readers and even more moviegoers over the decades, he assured his lost niece’s legacy will live on well into the new millennium.

Have comments, questions or suggestions you’d like to share with Mark? Message him at jmp.press@gmail.com.