Miss American Vampire accepts a statuette

The queasiest moment in Oscars history came in 1972. Marlon Brando decided to lend his weight to the native American cause by sending to accept the best actor statuette on his behalf one Sacheen Little Feather. Her real name was Maria Cruz, and, although she did indeed have what was then called Red Indian blood, she was not entirely representative of the Apache nation, being the winner of the 1970 Miss American Vampire contest, and later posing for Playboy. The preposterous Brando had given her a 15-page speech to read out, but horrified Academy officials insisted she restrict herself to 45 seconds.

When Vanessa Redgrave accepted a gong for Julia in 1977, she did at least make her polemical pitch against Zionism in person. She thus maintained the tradition of embarrassing podium performances, begun in 1943 by Greer Garson, who, at the end of a very long evening, rambled on for nearly six minutes, the longest acceptance speech ever made.

A winner, segregated even at the awards night

Not all Oscar winners are equal, as the story of Hattie McDaniel shows. The daughter of former slaves, she worked as an actress in Hollywood, playing maids on screen, and also, because her salary was so low, playing them for real in the homes of the wealthy. Gradually her pay improved, and she won the part of Mammy in Gone With The Wind. It was a role much criticised for feeding a black stereotype, but it won her an Oscar for best supporting actress.

What it didn't win her was equality. She could not attend the film's premiere in Atlanta because of the venue's 'no blacks' rule. When it came to the Oscars, she had to sit in the segregated part of the ballroom. Hattie died in 1952, and willed her statuette to Howard University in Washington, where she hoped it would act as a beacon of achievement. So it might still do, had not Hattie's Oscar disappeared one day in the 1960s during racial unrest. It was said to have been hurled in the Potomac river, but no proof exists, and the Academy refuses, unlike it has done with some other lost or damaged Oscars, to replace it. Unequal, even in death.

Great security breaches of our times

These days, security at the ceremony is obsessive. Zbigniew Rybcyznski can testify to that. After he'd collected his animated short gong in 1982, he stepped outside for a crafty smoke, and was then barred from re-entering because the guards mistook his assurances in broken English – "I have Oscar! I have Oscar!" – for madness, called police and had him arrested. But once upon a more innocent time, things were more lax. In 1937, supporting actress winner Alice Brady was at home nursing a broken ankle. When her award was announced, a nattily dressed man stepped forward to receive it, said a few gracious words, and left the stage. Neither he nor statuette was ever seen again.

The most startling security breach came in 1974, when, as David Niven prepared to open an envelope, a streaker ran across the stage, waving, among other things, a peace sign at the startled audience. He was Robert Opel, who, in addition to being a dedicated self-publicist, later owned a gallery that specialised in gay erotic photography. In 1979, two hoodlums burst in and, in the course of a robbery, murdered Opel.

How Joan Crawford upstaged everyone

No-shows by winners at the ceremony used to be common, like Joan Crawford's in 1946. Nominated as best actress for 'Mildred Pierce', but unable to face losing in public, she claimed flu, and took to her bed. But, ever the conniving old trouper, she had a make-up artist and hair stylist standing by just in case she won. She did, the statuette was despatched to her sick bay, closely followed by a posse of photographers and reporters. They were ushered into her presence, and, snuffling convinc­ingly, she posed for the pictures that stole the following day's front pages. Now that's upstaging.