MENTAL MONTAGE: And the Winner Is...

Olive Thomas and her perfect profile.

While researching this month's muse, I couldn't help but make connections between Ms. Olive Thomas and a plethora of other notable stars whose shot a fame was predicated on a random contest win. Just as Olive was given a leg up in the industry by winning Harold Chandler Christy's search for the "Most Beautiful Girl in New York" in 1914, so too would other fame-hungry hopefuls enter themselves into a hatful of names and faces for the chance of a lifetime. Winning these press gags would at the very least get them publicity, as well as assorted other prizes, but sometimes the victory too would buy them a straight ticket to Hollywood. Olive's path was less direct-- winning Christy's contest led to modeling for Harrison Fisher, which led to performing for Florenz Ziegfeld, which led to acting for Thomas Ince. For others, before the days of reality television and YouTube-- when any and everyone can become a star-- these press contests gave unknowns their time in the spotlight and also allowed already established stars the opportunity to keep their names shining. The following are those who had the gumption to take such opportunities to further their careers and eventually wind up as some of the biggest people in the biz. 

Ironically, another Hollywood beauty would have some help from HC Christy in obtaining stardom. Little, sixteen-year-old Clara Bow considered herself the least likely to succeed in anything. Growing up in Brooklyn, she somehow survived the shaky ground of an impoverished childhood, a mentally unstable mother, and an abusive father. Her release from this trauma was the movies. Her idol was Mary Pickford, and she constantly mimicked America's Sweetheart's every expression in the mirror when she came home from the latest flick. Imagine her excitement when her favorite movie magazine, Motion Picture Classic, announced Brewster Publications' "Fame and Fortune Contest" of 1921. On the hunt for the next great screen beauty, young female contestants were asked to send in two photographs of themselves, which would be judged by the artists Christy, Fisher, and Neysa McMein, along with Mary Pickford herself! Clara didn't have the money to get the photos taken, and her alcoholic father, Robert, performed perhaps the only kind act of his life in giving her the dough to get some taken. Clara wasn't happy with the results, but dropped them off at the contest manager's office anyway. He was immediately impressed, and left a note on her photos to the higher-ups that she had stopped by in person and was quite a looker. (The left publicity photo of Clara would appear in Motion Picture Classic to replace her cheaper entry pics).

Before Clara knew it, she was in the top dozen finalists and was called to Eugene Brewster's home for a screen test. Among the other girls, Clara was out of place. With her dismal wardrobe and third class upbringing, she immediately felt  like an outsider. The other gals confidently strutted before the camera and played out a scene in which they had to pretend to talk on the telephone; the shy Clara silently stood back and watched. Finally, her turn came. Instead of putting on airs, she decided to play the scene as herself-- not as an act, but as she would really do it. Her natural energy transferred, and she made it into the top two slots! She finally got up the nerve to tell her mother, Sarah-- who promptly fainted and then told her that she was going straight to Hell. Yet, in three days time, Clara received the call that she had won! Her picture appeared in Motion Picture Classic in Jan. 1922, and she was promptly summoned to Hollywood for her first film: Beyond the Rainbow. Her career should have ended there, but her innate charisma and gift at relaying honest emotion eventually made her Hollywood's "It" girl. (Clara rolls in "it," right).

1921 was clearly a busy year for talent scouts. At the same time Clara was answering the "Fame and Fortune" ad, Samuel Goldwyn was hosting his own "New Faces" hunt. (Ironically, almost as soon as the contest ended, Goldwyn was booted from his own company, but that's another story...). In the meantime, scout and former vaudeville star Bijou Fernandez was put in command of finding the newest male and female stars. The usual process followed, and a motley assortment of youths sent their photos for consideration. If attractive enough, they were called for a screen test, and eventually were signed to contracts at Goldwyn. It was a prime opportunity for any kid, especially someone like the wiseacre William Haines-- who had a zest for life but no specific ambitions. Legend has it that he was walking down Broadway when Bijou serendipitously spotted him and said, "I like your face" (see why, left). Billy responded in kind: "So do I, but it ain't mine." At her insistence, he entered the contest, having photos taken in probably the only nice suit he owned, and eventually wound up winning! His female counterpart was, unlike Billy, already an actress and a very driven one at that. Eleanor Boardman was a lovely, hard-working model when she saw this chance at a career boost. Naturally ambitious and talented, there are legends about her too, (such as the one involving her performing in the show The National Anthem, only to lose her voice half way through, and still pull off her performance completely in pantomime). After she and Billy made their screen tests, they were awarded contracts at the studio, and they rode out to Hollywood on a train together in March of 1922. They became fast friends and remained so for the rest of their lives. As two young hopefuls, they would both surpass and expand upon their own dreams. How could Eleanor have known that she would soon be Mrs. King Vidor, nor Billy that he would be soon be named Hollywood's Number One star?

Eleanor Boardman: gifted, glamorous, gorgeous.

The contests continued in 1922, but this time for different reasons. By now, Cecil B. DeMille (right) was one of the biggest directors in Hollywood-- big in professional stature, big in story, big in budget. Yet, after the success of The Squaw Man, Why Change Your Wife?, and Manslaughter, he was ready to top himself. In addition, he wanted to find out what the public was really in the mood for. So, on October 8, he ran an ad in the Los Angeles Times asking movie fans to write in ideas for his next film. The winner of the most creative story would receive $1000. In addition to keeping his name in the papers, Cecil used this cash reward press trick to both endear his audiences to him and keep his finger on the pulse of the nation. While reading through the multiple entries, he came across a letter from Mr. F.C. Nelson of Lansing, MI who wrote: "You cannot break the Ten Commandments-- they will break you." Finally, a worthy challenge! A religious man, Cecil was naturally drawn to the idea of exploring this Biblical moment, not just for the moral message, but because he already had dazzling images, set designs, and multiple taudry scenes dancing through his head. Mr. Nelson had hit the nail on the head; Cecil had his winner. However, he felt bad for the seven other people who, it turned out, had also sent in the Ten Commandments as a suggestion. To be fair, he sent all seven of them $1000 checks as well-- as always, a spendthrift. The Ten Commandments would be released the following year, and it remains just as startling and brilliant. For its time, and even today, the parting of the Red Sea is nothing to sniff at (thanks to the special effects of Roy Pomeroy, some gelatin, and gas jets).In effect, the contest spawned another contest-- one between Cecil and Cecil-- for he would decide to top even himself when he remade his own classic with Charlton Heston in 1956.

Jumping forward to the 1930s-- movie contests remained in full swing. This time, Clara Bow's home studio Paramount was about to feature another star-maker competition. Ironically, another Clara would win. Clara Lou Sheridan had absolutely no interest in acting. In fact, she was something of a tom boy who preferred working on cars to shopping. Nonetheless, her beautiful visage and curvaceous body made her a reluctant candidate for modeling-- despite the gap in her two front teeth, which she refused to fix. Her sister noticed that Paramount was featuring a "Search for Beauty Contest," the winner of which would receive a contract and a role in a major motion picture. Clara's picture was forthwith placed in the mail with the other contestants. Rumor has it that the deciding judge, flooded with so many photos, was having some trouble making up his mind on the winner, so he started throwing the pictures up into the air. Clara Lou's continued to appear face up when it hit the floor, and because she was a looker, she won the big prize. Signed to a one year contract, much to her chagrin, Clara Lou started making the rounds in B-pictures that showcased her beauty. After the year was up, she transferred over to Warner Bros, who made much better use of her earthiness by making her one of their many sexy-dames-with-an-edge. Cynical and direct, the newly named "Ann" Sheridan fit the Warner roster like a hand in a glove. Soon, she had gained enough popularity to earn the nickname she too would loathe: The "Oomph" Girl (see left). Maintaining her down-to-earth demeanor, the Texan girl always had a sense of humor about her random career change and the whole Hollywood biz. When asked later about the photo toss that won her her contract, Ann quipped, "Yeah, and I've been on my back ever since!"  

Lucille LeSueur would not achieve fame through a contest win; she got where she was going with a pinch of luck and a whole lot of grit and determination. However, a magazine contest too affected her life. Lucille had always had an inner drive and wanted nothing more than to distance herself from her turbulent relationship with her mother and her depressing childhood. Getting notice at a young age for her good looks, she got early work on the stage as a dancer, and she traveled around quite a bit in various shows. In time, she was discovered by a scout and subsequently landed a contract at the illustrious movie factory, MGM. It was here that she became pals with William Haines, who by now had taken to his new career path and was a huge screen star. Having mastered the art of film acting, Billy took Lucille under his wing and taught her how to play the part of the star on and off camera. After some minor roles and extra work, it was time for Lucille to renew her contract, but LB Mayer had a stipulation: he wanted her to change her name. He thought LeSueur sounded too much like Le-Sewer. At first, Lucille wanted to go by Billie Cassan, the name of the step-father who had shown her her only childhood warmth and whose vaudeville career had also introduced her to acting. In fact, all of Lucille's close friends already called her "Billie." However, Mayer didn't like it. Instead, to boost her public appeal and find an answer to the name question, he had the publicity department start a competition to find her a new one. On August 18, 1925, she received her new moniker: Joan Crawford (right). She was not happy. "It sounds just like Crawfish!" she complained to Billy. "Oh well," he quipped back. "They might have called you cranberry and served you every Thanksgiving with the turkey." (In the end, the contest got the new Joan Crawford two new names: thereafter, Billy always called her "cranberry"). Her first role as JC was with another JC, Jackie Coogan, in Old Clothes. Her new name soon became old hat, and twenty years later Joan Crawford would make the ultimate win, becoming an Academy Award winner for Mildred Pierce in 1946.

MENTAL MONTAGE: And the Winner Is...

STAR OF THE MONTH: Olive Thomas

Olive Thomas: "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World."

As are too many of our fallen idols, Olive Thomas is famous for dying. However, unlike all of the other Movie Town tragedies history has accrued over the years, unlike all other saucy scandals and continuing tales of human debauchery, Olive maintains the notorious position of being the First: Hollywood's first major movie star death and Hollywood's first major "Uh-oh" moment. At her death in 1920, she also served as our first glimpse into the true power of cinema celebrity: immortality. While Olive's body made the transport from Paris to New York City to be laid to rest, her movies were being shown in theaters across the nation. How was it possible? She had died, and yet she lived??? Audiences gasped at the sight of her face-- once remarked upon as the "most beautiful" in the world-- still laughing and smiling, still vibrant, though her skin was ice cold. This was the start of a whole other level of human fanaticism and adoration for the screen star: we had at last tapped into the fountain of youth, and none of us would ever be the same.

One of Olive's many costumes in the Follies.

But who was this girl who started it all? She was just that. A girl. The girl. Even at a young age, growing up in Charleroi, PA, Oliveretta Elaine Duffy marched to the beat of her own drummer, though she more likely skipped and twirled. Life was a sweet nectar she chose to savor to the fullest extent, and she made big plans for herself from the get-go. After losing her father, a steel worker, in a tragic accident at work, Olive was forced to step up and help take care of her mother and two younger brothers. The naive, bustling energy of youth convinced "Ollie" that she was ready for the real world anyway, and she promptly dropped out of school and got a job. But small town life wasn't enough for a girl with such huge dreams, especially with her drop-dead gorgeous looks. More than one head turned when she passed by, including that of clerk Bernard Krug Thomas, whom she promptly married. After trying on married life for a time, Ollie decided it was a bit too glum, and though she kept quite a handsome home, her spending habits often cramped Krug's style. Divorce was the next logical step. Armed with nothing more than courage, Olive left her husband and struck out on her own to pursue life in NYC, having decided that-- heck-- she was just as good-looking as those Ziegfeld girls she kept seeing pictures of. The world would disagree: she was better. After spending some time working as a salesgirl in Harlem, Olive blithely entered a beauty contest for artist Howard Chandler Christy-- who was looking for the "perfect model"-- and won. She was thus labeled as "The Most Beautiful Girl in New York City," only to top herself when Harrison Fisher would name her "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World"-- Not too shabby for a teenager from Pittsburgh.

Simply Ollie

Olive's gorgeous features made her a popular model, and soon her face was on magazine covers and advertisements everywhere. It wasn't long before Florenz Ziegfeld came calling with an offer, and Olive found herself in the Follies (though she would protest that she brazenly had  asked for the job herself). An affair between the gorgeous new muse and her notoriously womanizing patron began, despite his marriage to the long-suffering Billie Burke. Due to her public appeal and her natural charms, she soon became a featured girl in the act, participating in several numbers. Wealthy men from all around the world would lavish at her feet and douse her with jewelry. She would thus strut around bedecked in accoutrement that was worth more money than most people would make in a lifetime. Only thing was, while Ollie enjoyed the pretty stuff, she never took any of it seriously, and she was constantly losing these baubles. As her popularity grew, she was moved to the new and uber-risque Midnight Frolic. While she could have had her pick of any of the many swooning men left gasping in her wake, Ollie would finally succumb to ladies' man and scalawag Jack Pickford, whose irresistible charms immediately won her over-- much to Ziegfeld's chagrin. In addition to her incredible beauty, Ollie's general goodness, wit, and spirit, won Jack over as well. The two fell madly in love. Ziegfeld was about to lose his main attraction, but not just to Jack.

Olive was a great animal lover.

The movies finally got a hold of Olive in 1916 when she appeared in an episode of the Beatrice Fairfax series: "Play Ball." That did it; she had a new obsession. Thomas Ince of Triangle scooped her up and put her to work in her first lead role in Madcap Madge. Olive was no great actress, and she knew it, but she wanted to be. Her ferocious energy was just as present in her mind as in her physicality. She quickly became known around the Triangle lot as "Miss Inquisitive" or "Miss Encyclopedia," for she asked endless questions about everything. Not just the filmmaking process-- EVERYTHING. She quickly learned the racket and mastered it, becoming as popular a personality on the silver screen as she had been on the Follies stage. Many friends predicted that with her temperament and knowledge, she would have gone on to direct pictures in the future. In the meantime, while honing her skills in films like Heiress for a Day, she secretly married Jack. She specifically chose to keep the nuptials from the public, because she wanted to prove herself as an actress without any help from the powerful "Pickford" name. After starring in film after film to great success, her popularity and box-office appeal revealed that she had paved her own way, and she finally announced that she was indeed Mrs. Jack Pickford-- though it is rumored that mother-in-law Charlotte and sister-in-law Mary never approved. 

One of many magazine covers she would grace.

On the surface, Jack and Ollie seemed to be the perfect couple. They both spent exorbitantly, buying expensive gifts for each other and for themselves. They enjoyed throwing caution to the wind and living loud and large. Both had "lead feet" and got into constant fender benders, both enjoyed the night life and party crowds, but only Olive seemed to possess the ability to keep it from affecting her work. There were strains: jealousy, fiery tempers, high-strung personalities... but these volatile qualities also amplified the duo's passions, and it honestly seemed that they were the only people who could keep up with each other. Distance was a contributing factor to marital discord: Jack was often making movies back West in L.A, always with Mary's help, while Olive was in New York. Her fame increased after she signed with the newly formed Selznick Pictures in 1918 as its first official star. With Myron Selznick at the helm, father L.J. and brother David  Selznick all put their faith behind Ollie and advertised her out the wazoo. She had the great honor of having her name up in electric lights for her film Upstairs and Down. In addition to being the center of the largest electric advertisement of the time, she had countless ads drawn up for her in magazines, and once had three billboards up in Times Square at the same time, setting a record in doing so. Not even Mary Pickford ever accomplished that. Of course, all of the attention may have had something to do with the fact that Myron, like many men, had fallen in love with her. She seemed to have that effect. Selznick Pictures certainly did its best to make her feel safe and loved, even sending her more cash when she (frequently) overdrew her accounts.

The Flapper

As a woman of firsts, Olive would also be the first "Flapper." Colleen Moore would later be credited with truly defining this version of feminine youth, but it was Olive who initially breathed life into one of the most notorious characters of the Twentieth Century. She still maintained her long, light-brown locks, no 'bob,' but what she possessed that would indeed translate to those eternal girls of the 1920s was her spirit. A new woman was about to be born in a new decade: one potently sexual, rambunctious, liberated, and independent. Her appearance in The Flapper seems like a far cry from what Clara Bow or Louise Brooks would later bring to the table, but the spark is still there, and the world would soon catch fire. After wrapping on the film, Olive decided to reunite with Jack, with whom she was still having problems, and the duo went on a well deserved vacation and shopping spree in Paris. Jack would return. Olive would not.

Ollie shows her fun side and goofs with a drum set.

Just what happened to Ollie remains a mystery. What is known is that she and Jack went on the town on Sept 5, 1920, partying and dancing with the Dolly Sisters at infamous Parisian hot-spots like The Dead Rat, before returning to The Ritz somewhere between 1 and 3am. In the early morning hours, Jack claimed he went to bed and was awakened by Olive's screaming. She had swallowed a fatal dose of bichloride of mercury and was dying. For years, it has been debated as to whether the act was one of accident, suicide, or even murder. The truth may never be known, since the only man to witness it all, Jack, had his own reasons for distorting facts. See, the only reason that the bichloride of mercury was even present in the room was because Jack, who was now popularly known around Hollywood as "Mr. Syphilis," had been using the substance to topically treat his disease. It has been alleged that when Olive discovered her husband's malady, and equally the fact that he had been unfaithful-- and perhaps had infected her-- she had killed herself. It too has been suggested that in the midst of one of their many turbulent arguments, the oft impulsive Olive had defiantly taken the poison as a way to enact revenge against her husband and end her own personal suffering. However, the idea of suicide to many just doesn't seem to be in keeping with Olive's light-hearted demeanor. This leaves murder a possibility, but though Jack was imperfect, this too is often ruled out-- the only person Jack ever really hurt was himself. This leaves the theory that it was an accident, and author Michelle Vogel suggests that Olive  stumbled into the bathroom in the night to take a sleeping pill-- as she often suffered from insomnia-- and mistakenly ingested Jack's concoction in the dark. Then again, perhaps there were darker corners to this bright, young woman's mind that may have driven her to a desperate state. The mystery continues...

Olive with Jack, leaving for Paris.

It took 5 days for Olive to finally die, during the span of which she both lost her ability to see or speak. Early attempts that Jack had made to have Olive regurgitate the poison had only served in burning her vocal chords further and prolonging her painful death. It was unfitting for a woman so full of life, so beautiful... On the morning of September 10, with friend Dorothy Gish and Jack by her side, Ollie finally succumbed to acute nephritis. Ironically, Jack would pass away 12 years later in the same hospital, The American Hospital in Paris, at only 36 years of age. Olive's death was ruled an accident, and the incident sent shock waves across the world. The first Hollywood tragedy, society had as yet no idea how to handle the situation. For now, Hollywood itself was safe, pointing the finger at dirty, debaucherous Paris as the true villain-- a nasty city of depravity who had seduced a young girl to ruin! Magazine articles vividly depicted and exaggerated Olive's last night, painting her as an innocent woman tempted by drugs and booze who had taken her own life in shame. But, in almost exactly one year's time, the death of Virginia Rappe would bring the finger of blame back to Hollywood, and this time there would be no scapegoat except for poor Fatty Arbuckle. Olive became, thus, our first martyr; a symbol of the highest of highs, the most beautiful of girls, brought to the lowest and ugliest of lows. After Fatty came William Desmond Tayor; after WDT came Wallace Reid, and so on and so on and so on. The train wreck continues.

Alberto Vargas's "Memories of Olive," finished after her death.

But there is more to Ollie than her death. Her life is just as forgotten as her silent grave in Woodlawn Cemetery, where she rests alone without her Jack, whom was buried in the family crypt in Forest Lawn of Glendale-- again, the lovers separated by a continent. Olive will never go down as an amazing actress, but she was one of Hollywood's brightest personalities. What she brought to the camera wasn't her grand emotional skill nor her malleable abilities of characterization. She brought energy and fun. She brought her "A" game and left plenty of room to play. Too few of her films remain, with only The Flapper being available to mainstream audiences. But still, in just this one film, or any of the meager scraps and scenes that haven't been ravaged by time and decay, you catch a glimpse of Ollie's magic; as in her life, you can't take your eyes off her. And so, Olive Thomas, dead too soon at 25, continues to live forever, and we continue to drink from the great silver screen chalice of her eternal youth. Before Elizabeth Taylor, Olive was the first girl with the violet eyes. Before Marilyn Monroe, Olive was the first sex symbol, influencing Alberto Vargas even after her demise in one of his most famous paintings. Before David O. Selznick, there was just David, who added the "O" to his name in memory of the woman whom he said had helped cement his family's reputation in Hollywood. Before now, there was then; and then, Olive was very "now"-- present, alive, vivacious, always.

STAR OF THE MONTH: Olive Thomas

MENTAL MONTAGE: Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

There are many key identifiers that can clue you into someone's personality: the clothes he wears, the type of dog he has, or the way he decorates his home par exemple. Even more key is perhaps, not so much the car he drives, but the way he behaves behind the wheel after he's turned the ignition. As such, it sometimes seems that lives of danger or tragedy are prefaced in a star's vehicular life. Here are a few tales of Cars vs. Karma. "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night."


(I apologize. I published this on Thurs 5/12, but somehow it disappeared overnight. Here it is again. Sorry for the repeat)!!!

James enjoyed whipping around town on a motorcycle

when such vehicles were still seen as a novelty.

Because of the way James Dean lived and because of the way he died, it is difficult to imagine him anywhere but behind the wheel of a car. In addition to his famous "chicken" race in Rebel Without a Cause, Jimmy also did a lot of racing in his private life. In accordance, he picked up more than a few tickets from the po-po, including one on the day of his tragic death: James was pulled over for going 10 miles over the 55 mph speed limit. After receiving the citation, he glumly accepted his error and conceded that he had better slow down, if not for his own safety, then to make sure that Little Bastard didn't get worn out before its first big race in Salinas. (Jimmy named his Porsche 550 Spyder "Little Bastard" because that's what his pal, stunt driver, Bill Hickman, called him. He in turn called Bill "Big Bastard"). Sadly, even though Jimmy eased up on his lead foot, he neglected to put on his seat-belt. Not too long after receiving his ticket, Jimmy was struck at the 41/46 junction when an opposing car came into his lane. This spot now bears his name in memoriam: The James Dean Junction.

James checks out his car in preparation for his race.

Up until this point, Jimmy had been invincible behind the wheel. His father, Winton, once remarked, when reminiscing about his son's early motorbike stunts, that "If he'd only fallen once, things might have been different." Yet, even as a child, while JD suffered the usual cuts and bruises, he always seemed to walk away from his daredevil feats unscathed. (The worst he was to suffer was losing his four front teeth while playing acrobats with friends in the barn. Even this, he shook off). His impenetrability was not pure luck, but the product of intense focus. A powerful driver, Jimmy seemed to be almost hypnotized when behind the wheel, always remaining perfectly in control and unruffled. Yet, James did suffer a minor catastrophe when driving in a Memorial Day race in Santa Barbara. Jimmy bent the rules by entering the race in the first place, for George Stevens had requested that he lay off racing during the filming of Giant. During the competition, James started out in eighteenth place. Before he could gain much ground, another Porsche swerved in front of him, cutting him off and nearly hitting his bumper. To avoid the collision, James stealthily veered his car to the side, where it luckily hit only hay bales. Dave Watson, who was watching, said that had it not been for Jimmy's ability, the accident could have been fatal. Luckily, "he didn't miss a trick." James pulled himself together and worked his way back into fourth place before he was forced to pull out-- his engine blew under the strain. Perturbed at his loss, James remained cool as a cucumber. Better luck next time, he thought. For now, he and his automobile exited unhurt.

Wallace Reid (left) too had a knack for car racing. From an early age, and far before he'd acquired a license, Wally enjoyed racing around in his parents' car. This need for speed would continue into adulthood, where neighbors grew accustomed to Wally blazing through town in his various automobiles, usually accustomed with a horn that tooted out the latest song. In keeping with his racing films like The Roaring Road, which he remains most famous for, Wally also entered into competitions in real life. In those days, there was an open track-- The Santa Monica Race Route-- composed of Ocean Ave, Wilshire Blvd, and San Vicente Blvd. The area where the then dirt roads of Ocean and Wilshire met in a sharp 90-degree turn was known as "Dead Man's Curve." Wally was proud when he set the new record high for this turn at 110 mph. But Wally's carefree, innocent immaturity behind the wheel came at a price. He had many collisions, scrapes, and mishaps. On Jan. 22, 1913, he was driving so recklessly up Mountain Road to Parma Park that he and his friends careened off the road and were literally hanging over the edge. The car couldn't be removed, so they had to leave it dangling until assistance could be found. But, more horrendously, Wally would be in a tragic car accident when he and pal Thomas Ince were rushing down the PCH in 1915. The facts remain fuzzy, as there was the usual subsequent studio cover-up, but Wally, who had probably been drinking, lost control of his vehicle and slammed into another car, which carried a family of five. The father was killed, and the mother and three children where seriously injured. Thomas too suffered a broken collar bone. Wally walked away from his totaled car with only cuts and bruises. The damage he did to himself psychologically was another story. When he later came to bury his personal pains in morphine, this is but one of the episodes he was running from.

Steve McQueen was another actor who seemed perfectly positioned in a sleek sports car (see right). Like James Dean, Steve loved the thrill of a race. Friend and co-star James Garner would recall this fire foot causing a ruckus in Germany when they were filming The Great Escape. Along with doing many of his own driving stunts, Steve was always returning to the set with another speeding ticket-- he was constantly getting into trouble with the local authorities for his reckless driving. An interesting story involves not his driving acuity but his mental stealth. When filming the series "Wanted: Dead or Alive," he was irked when the show wouldn't give him time off the shoot the film The Magnificent Seven. In response, he purposely crashed his car so that he could claim injury. When the studio gave him time to recuperate, Steve neglected his bed rest and shot The Magnificent Seven instead. After Steve was all healed aka the movie had wrapped, he returned to work on the TV series as fresh as a daisy. Clearly, this was a guy operating on all cylinders.

Clark Gable (left) remains one of the biggest stars that MGM ever had. Nay, that moviedom ever had. Needless to say, he could afford to buy the best of the best, and he had definite taste when it came to his choice of vehicle. While he wasn't born with driving in his blood, there are rumors that some of the demons that drove him were the direct cause or result of various auto related events. Most memorably, Clark become incredibly morose after the death of his beloved Carole Lombard, and he took to motoring rapidly through the Hollywood Hills as if to tempt fate with his own life. Lucille Ball, a close buddy of Carole's, was a good friend to Clark at this time and was one of the many urging him to pull in the reigns. Rumor has it that he took more than a few spills, but he finally got a lot of his anger and regret out when he served valiantly in WWII in Carole's memory. Previous to this, there was another Clark controversy. There is still debate over whether or not the following is true, but many in Hollywood would recall Clark making a frenzied call to Howard Strickling in 1933. He had allegedly hit and killed a pedestrian when drunkenly turning onto Sunset Boulevard! If true, MGM did its best to cover up the hit-and-run and salvage their growing star's name. Legend has it that MGM paid a studio employee to take the blame, offering him a lifetime's employment at the studio. Interestingly, as author E.J. Fleming adeptly pointed out, the heretofore unknown MGM man John Huston was reported in the papers to have hit actress Tosca Roulien on Sept 22, 1933. Huston went to court, the accident was ruled as such, and the case was closed. John, of course, went on to enjoy quite a healthy directing career. But, did he have Clark to thank for this?

While Frances Farmer didn't suffer any major collisions that I can recall, she did survive one wreck of a life, and a lot of it is due to a 1942 altercation over her driving. Frances was a fiery and impassioned actress, smart and perhaps a little too reactionary. When leaving a party one night, during war time, she was pulled over for having her headlights on in a dim out zone. Frances, predictably, resisted her citation, which quickly escalated into an arrest. The defiant girl was hauled into jail and charged for a DUI-- which obviously wasn't the source of the argument. In any case, Frances paid an initial fee and was let go, but she failed to completely pay the full charge. This resulted in a bench warrant for her arrest. When a hairdresser later accused her of dislocating her jaw on the set, it was all the police needed to go after Frances and haul her in, guns blazing. She was located at The Knickerbocker Hotel, dragged through the lobby wearing allegedly nothing but a shower curtain, and subsequently locked up in a mental institution, with her loving [haha] mother acting as legal guardian and holding the key. Damn those headlights... Ironically, Frances would later be given a car when she appeared on the show "This Is Your Life" in 1958 after her "rehabilitation." Her career, however, never recovered from the scandal nor the false accusations of insanity. Like too many other strong, independent women, Frances was punished for her brazenness. In the old days, she would have been burned as a witch. In Hollywood, it was her fame that was left to fizzle. (Frances films Flowing Gold with John Garfield, right).

Veronica Lake could also be described as a hot-tempered little dollop. When filming I Wanted Wings, which was to be her first major hit, she was often picked on and chewed out by director Mitchell Leisen. While Veronica would stand silently and take the tirades, which were incredibly humiliating, she did find her way to fight back. After one particular yelling match, Veronica jumped in her car and raced off to new hubby John Detlie, neglecting to tell anyone where she was going. That Mitch could kiss her canola, for all she cared! However, one should never drive angry, especially when on the verge of tears. While hurrying to reach her beloved, her car began to slide on the surprisingly icy roads of Needles, CA. Suddenly, she spun out of control and went spilling over the side of the mountain, nose first, flipping over and over. The tough cookie was luckily numbed by the snow and cold, and it took time for her to realize the pain in her knee or the fact that her toes were broken. Looking a bloody mess, she somehow managed to climb the hill back to the road where she flagged down a passing pickup. Inside, a surprised farmer and his family looked at the bloody beauty like she was nuts, but they still gave her a ride to town. She eventually made it to John, and when the studio located her, she had even more motivation to tell them to stick it where the sun doesn't shine. She got her way, and returned to work, where Mitch was forced by the studio to hold his tongue. (Ronni wisely lets Joel McCrea handle the driving, left in Sullivan's Travels).

Howard Hughes is more renowned for his abilities in the cockpit (as seen right), but he too had some adventures on wheels. When squiring his latest infatuation, Ava Gardner, the two went out dancing at The Cocoanut Grove. Howard was irked that Ava remained immune to his charms or money. The following situation didn't help matters. Upon leaving the club, Howard stopped at a red light to see another car also in wait in the opposing lane. Beads of sweat started to trickle down when he realized that the other driver was his seventeen-year-old protege/fiance Faith Domergue, driving the very car he had given her for her birthday. Gulp. Faith recognized Howard too, and when the light turned green, she busted a u-ey and started following the flustered couple. Weaving in and out of the lane, she nearly caused a wreck, forcing Howard to pull into an empty parking lot on Fairfax to avoid disaster, or so he thought. Faith immediately pulled around, lined herself up directly against the passenger side, gave Ava the look of death, and started ramming the car repeatedly. Luckily, another passerby entered the altercation, which brought things to a halt, and Howard asked the stranger to take the fuming Ava home. Howard was left to repair the damage and console his irate, immature mistress, but the damage had been done.

Superman George Reeves (left) had many auto altercations, as well. In fact, toward the end of his life, he had so many uncanny accidents and near death vehicular incidents that it seemed that it was more than just fate that had it in for the hero. The source of this bad karma was probably directly related to his recent break-up with Toni Mannix, wife of Eddie Mannix-- the MGM man with mob connections. Toni was more than miffed when her darling boy left her for the younger-- albeit not classier-- Lenore Lemmon. Consequently, in 1958, while driving his Alvis, (ironically a gift from Toni), he experienced a little rough driving from two passing, black cars. Luckily, this time around, the intimidation resulted in nothing more than George being a bit spooked, and he shook it off. Not much later, he was nearly plowed down in front of his home by a similar dark car. He had to dive onto his front lawn to avoid being hit! Then, in April of 1959, George was out in his new Jaguar. The new car didn't bring him better luck, for as he was rolling down the hills of Benedict Canyon, he realized that his breaks weren't working. Struggling to maintain control, he ran into a light pole at Easton Drive. When the cops arrived, they found that the actor had nearly gone through his windshield and had suffered a severe gash to his forehead, which required thirty stitches. They also found that all of George's brake fluid had been drained. Clearly, whoever was out to get George realized that vehicular manslaughter wasn't gonna do it. He was found dead with a bullet in his brain on June 16, 1959. Of course, it was ruled a suicide.


That being said, drive safely...

MENTAL MONTAGE: Cruisin' for a Bruisin'