HISTORY LESSON: Hollywood Suicide

A title card from The Flapper, which ironically appears after Olive Thomas's character decides 

not to kill herself. This single slide could serve as the explanation many have

 as to why Olive's death was not a suicide but an accident-- 

she loved life too much to let go... Or did she?

As Halloween creeps closer, I thought it relevant to dip into the more macabre side of Hollywood. Since All Hallows Eve is embraced as a public indulgence in the sometimes very thin line between life and death, it seems a perfect holiday for La La Land. Hollywood itself, sometimes appearing as a glorious Heaven and others as a torturous Hell, has birthed multiple superstars but has too killed its own children. The most depressing and pitiable of these fallen angels are those who choose to take their own lives. In all cases, the deaths are shocking, unexpected, and heartbreaking, but there are a few that are so unbelievable that, even when given direct reason or motive, one cannot wrap his or her mind around the tragedy; at least I can't. Olive Thomas remains the first official poster girl for the inexplicable, self-inflicted death, which to this day remains debatable. One can continue to turn over the evidence, but the varying testimonies of husband Jack Pickford, the memories of friends, and the final conclusions of medical professionals all produce contradictory evidence. Whether suicide or accident, the outcome is still devastating and Olive still a victim. Journeying down this same vein of the unfathomable and unreasonable disappearance of some of our brightest stars, I've compiled the following collection of some of the most bizarre and yet little discussed suicides in Hollywood History. Years after their shattered ends, one can still cry "Why, oh, why?" to the Hollywood Hills and receive no answer but a pained echo for the lost souls, volleying without end.


LUPE VELEZ:

Lupe was branded the "Mexican Spitfire" due to her feisty, sensual, uncontainable spirit and her obvious heritage. Born in San Luis Potosi, she-- like Dolores Del Rio and Anna May Wong-- paved the way in the industry for "ethnic" girls, bringing her beauty, fire, and passion to the screen with full force. After a stint in vaudeville, Lupe landed in Hollywood where she made unprecedented, scene-stealing appearances in films opposite Douglas Fairbanks (The Gaucho) and Lon Chaney (Where East is East). The girl didn't just have "something," she had something indescribable. Who else in the history of cinema has outshone the Man of a Thousand Faces? Intensely sexual with a temper to match, she had a notorious romance with Gary Cooper-- whose placid demeanor was probably the only one who could withstand her raging bouts of anger-- and a failed marriage to an equal wild man, Johnny Weissmuller. Her career thrived through the silent era, where she gained a reputation as a comedienne with punch and panache, but the coming of talkies allegedly inhibited her career due to her obvious accent-- taking her out of the running of more acceptable, all-American leading ladies-- and later accusations of communist support dampened her public appeal. In her thirties, she did Broadway, returned to her native Mexico-- where she was very popular-- and landed back in Hollywood where she fell into the arms of actor Harald Maresch. Then, on Dec. 13, 1944, Lupe was gone, having taken her own life with the aid of Seconal. She was but 36-years-old. The reason for her shocking end was given by herself in a suicide note: "To Harald, may God forgive you and forgive me too but I prefer to take my life away and our baby's before I bring him with shame, or killing him, Lupe." The reason, therefore, for her desperate final act, was personal shame over the fact that Harald had gotten her pregnant and refused to marry her, but even in this there is controversy. 

Lupe may have gone to convent school as a child, but she was far from conventional. A vibrant, caution-be-damned kind of girl, it is doubtful that she killed herself to protect her own reputation and save her child from a life of ridicule.  The Lupe the world knew and loved would have most certainly socked anyone in the nose who so much as looked at her child the wrong way. There must be more to the story, and in the end it seems more likely that it was Lupe's own impulsive, defiant behavior that killed her. Perhaps after a lifetime of broken hearts, a lover's refusal of marriage became the last straw. One could argue that she killed herself more to hurt Harald for his betrayal or to simply give one last eff-you to the world that she had considered so cruel. Adela Rogers St. Johns would state that Harald had every intention of marrying Lupe, but simply refused to lie about the date of the nuptials in order to make their child the product of marriage and not conversely marriage the product of the child. If this is true, it makes the suicide even more head-scratching. More puzzling is the speculation that Harald was totally innocent in the debacle and that the child was that of Gary Cooper, with whom Lupe had maintained an on-again off-again affair. The most commonly accepted theory is that Lupe was not a well woman. Her vacillations in temperament indicate that she would have been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder had such a disease been recognized in her day. Friends too reported that, despite her bravado, in which she attacked life with chin out and up, Lupe had great pain and melancholy. On rare occasions, she would open up about her life's disappointments and what she felt was the absence of real love. Her death scene is too debatable because of the way it has been painted. Some state that she was found lying in a bed of white satin, completely composed and beautiful, the way she herself had dramatically staged it. Others attest that she had a violent reaction to the Seconal and died with her head in the toilet, drowning to death. Both are debatable: suicide is never a glossy affair, but one doubts that anyone could "drown" in a toilet, given that the weight of the human body would, if unconscious, naturally slump to the floor. The only hard core truth we can rely on is that Lupe left us all too soon, and whatever reason she had for taking her own life was not reason enough.


GEORGE SANDERS:

Talk about unexpected... The Sultan of Snark and fastest s-wordsman of witty barbs taking his own life? No. Not possible. George Sanders, on screen and off, seemed to be the smartest of them all and ten steps ahead of everyone else. Sitting comfortably on a pedestal of intellect, he looked down his nose at a world of neandrethals and gloated at his own superiority. We counted on his smirking charm to add layers of humor and biting edge to films like The Picture of Dorian Gray and All About Eve, and with every opportunity to impress us with his entrancing voice-- one put to use as Shere Khan in The Jungle Book-- he succeeded. But this Englishman too must have been hiding a secret behind his superior jabs and polished deviance, for his life ended in April of 1972 by his own hand. Even more startling is the fact that he was well into his sixties when he committed this personal atrocity. One thinks of suicide as being the haven for discontented and bruised youths who have given up hope; apparently we never mature past our own insecurities and need for escape. After four marriages, one of which was to Zsa Zsa Gabor, George dwindled into ill health. The aid of alcohol certainly didn't help things, and in his later years he had become mentally unstable, experiencing moments of complete delirium, which resulted in angry outbursts. Losing his mental faculties-- the man whose shrewd mind was his key asset-- was something he could not bear. When he was unable to play his piano, he solved the problem by chopping it to bits. He wandered aimlessly, landing in Barcelona, where he finally said farewell as only he would, with annoyance and condescension: "Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck." His drug of choice was Nembutal. What remains so indiscernible is that a sharp man such as himself could suddenly become the butt of life's joke.


CHARLES BOYER:

The ultimate French lover, Charles Boyer could inspire amore in even the lowest of skunks-- which he did when Looney Tunes modeled Pepe le Pew after him. With unforgettable performances ranging from superb malevolence in Gaslight to pious romanticism in All This, and Heaven Too, his acting talents were enhanced by a single raised eyebrow that drew women to him like moths to a flame. In his private life, Charles maintained his suavity but had much less ego. Fairly shy but amiable, he was entrancing for reasons aside from his looks-- which was necessary since he was prematurely balding, short, and had a bit of a gut. Originally a student of philosophy and a fluent speaker of five languages, the equally religious man wed his only wife in 1934 and remained faithful to her for the next 44 years (although, James Cagney--also a loyal husband-- would recall overhearing ol' Charles putting the moves on a young actress on one of their WWII morale boosting tours). The classy Irene Dunne named him as one of her two favorite leading men, (Cary Grant being the other), and he was able to befriend even the intensely private Maurice Chevalier. However, despite a prosperous career and happy marriage, darkness too was lurking over Charles's shoulder. After losing his son, Michael-- who shot himself either by accident or suicide on his twenty-first birthday-- Charles lost his beloved wife Pat nearly fourteen years later in 1978. Two days after this tragedy, Charles took his own life, again with the aid of Seconal. It is believed that he did so because the great romantic could not bear life without his paramour, but there had to be more cracks in a man than a broken heart to spur on such a desperate act. Whatever pains he felt in his personal life, he kept hidden, therefore giving a performance that far outshone anything he did on the silver screen. Without Pat as the glue to hold him together against his demons, death must have seemed the only out, but the results still make one shake the head in consternation.


MARGARET SULLAVAN:

Everyone's favorite girl-next-door ruled the silver screen in roles that showcased both her warmth and resilience. Close friends would be impressed with these qualities in her private life, including Jimmy Stewart who was head-over-heels for her in his early career. Maggie was a fighter, and proved it by overcoming a muscular weakness that prevented her from walking when she was a child. Rebellious in spirit, she overcame this malady and grew into a tomboy who shrugged off familial disapproval to pursue a career in dance and theater. When they cut her off financially, she paid her own way, making it all the way to Hollywood and cementing herself as a leading lady with grace and gumption. One of her most remarked upon qualities was her voice, which did not ring out clear as a bell, like so many young ingenues, but was instead deep and lush. Few knew that this was because she had a hearing problem diagnosed as otosclerosis: only by speaking at a deeper register could she even hear herself. As she aged, her condition worsened, which deeply affected her psychologically, as did her divorce from third husband Leland Hayward. After her three children forsook her to live with their father, Margaret was crushed. Separated from her family, she felt alienated and it gave her great pain to see the lives of her loved ones fall apart-- all of her children possessed her same rebellious spirit if not her focused drive. She became increasingly depressed, finding it difficult to sleep, and spent a great deal of time on her own. Though she continued to work, her only real companion seemed to be the foggy static that used to serve as noise in her increasingly isolated and lonely life. After spending time briefly in a mental institution, she was found home in bed suffering a Barbituate overdose on New Years Day 1960. It was too late to save her life. It continues to be argued whether the death was accidental or purposeful, but examining the evidence it seems that Maggie's flinty strength finally succumbed to her emotional abandonment. To make things even more tragic, two of her other children-- Bridget and Bill-- would later commit suicide, continuing the sad legacy. Only daughter Brooke remained to pen the novel of her family's breakdown: Haywire. Watching Maggie's movies today, she remains one of the least likely candidates for such a death, yet there the hard truth lies-- etched in stone. 


LOU TELLEGEN:

Lou is a rarely remembered film personality. If he is recalled at all, it is only by history buffs who know him as the one-time husband of screen siren and opera star Geraldine Farrar. A handsome man, he clearly had something in the way of charm, since he was able to woo some of the biggest and most untouchable women in show business, including the illustrious Sarah Bernhardt in addition to Farrar. Charm also helped him in his acting career, where it has been reported that what he lacked in talent he made up for in personality and the ability to forge the correct "relationships." He got his start on the stage after seducing Bernhardt, who cast the young man as her leading man. He had no experience and at the time had just been released from prison. His drive for success was perhaps propelled by his status as an "illegetimate child." The legitimacy that he lacked in infancy, he clearly sought to attain in adulthood through prosperity. His ambition revealed itself in his first marriage-- to a countess. The name of his auto-biography, therefore, seems befitting: Women Have Been Kind. With his good looks, he clearly knew how to play the game to suit his needs, but after three failed marriages he still had not found what he was looking for. Thrown into the mix was his dwindling career, which included stage plays and film roles (including 3 Bad Men), often playing unsavory characters with an agenda. Things took a turn when his handsome face was damaged in a fire, thus leaving him without his oft played Ace. By 1934, he too was suffering from Cancer (a fact that was kept from him) and bankruptcy. With no career, no woman to save him, and a lifetime of mistakes and lost opportunities, Lou at fifty-one had nothing. This makes his death not necessarily surprising, as his sad state was obvious to those around him; what makes his suicide shocking is its execution. Lou's method was masochistic: standing before a mirror, he stabbed himself with a pair of sewing scissors... seven times. Legend has it that this was done while he was surrounded by newspaper clippings of his past glories, which is true figuratively if not literally. 

The mysterious and saddening ends of W.S. Van Dyke, Max Linder, Phyllis Haver, Brian Keith, Everett Sloane, etc. could be added to this never-ending list. The question is, is Hollywood really a major contributing culprit in their deaths, or does living larger-than-life simply project a more intense version of universal truths? Clearly, when you have climbed higher than the rest, you have farther to fall, and for those who have once tasted ambrosia on Mount Olympus to be left with only memories of past glories, a quiet, solitary life does not seem as inviting as the eternal silence of death-- which will shut out their unfulfilled desires with their sorrows. If Hollywood were erased from the equation, it seems that all of these stories would have ended the same way, for it does not appear that the loss of fame tipped the scales against Margaret Sullavan or Charles Boyer as it more fully did to Tellegan. Why is it then that this city still seems to be to blame, at least partly? Life in show-business, so rich, passionate, and dramatic seems to induce equally dramatic ends. Just as plot-twists give unsuspecting film viewers a thrilling whip-lash, tabloid truths have too taken us for a loop when things don't end the way we expect them to. Perhaps these deaths seem more brutal because we never expect our stars to die at all-- even when they do die, they don't. Olive Thomas still uproariously mugs at us in her remaining masterpiece, The Flapper-- a film in which she ironically backs out of a half-hearted suicide attempt-- and she has been gone for nearly one-hundred years. This haunting quality only adds to the Hollywood mystique: light and shadows, glamour and debauchery, flecks of gold and celluloid dust. For every lost life, thousands of movie fans are born to take its place; to continue carrying the torch for lights snuffed out by the cool hand of death.

HISTORY LESSON: Hollywood Suicide

MENTAL MONTAGE: When First We Met

In the larger-than-life land of La La, one would expect every interaction between celebrities to be as dramatic and cataclysmic as on the big screen. Sometimes, they are, but mostly they are just downright comical. Here are a few of the most infamous and entertaining tales of movie star meetings:

Young ingenue, Marilyn Monroe.

When Marilyn Monroe was a young, hopeful starlet just starting out in Hollywood, she used to make the rounds at various cocktail parties and shindigs. Sometimes, this was merely part of the job description-- being paid to smile at executives while handing out cigarettes-- and other times it was part of her ploy to meet as many important people as possible and get her name and face out there. Well, her gorgeous face did catch the eye of many men, one of whom was so taken with her that he asked her to sit down beside him on the staircase, where he was getting sloppy drunk. After introducing himself in the distinguished and sardonic voice that she recognized, Marilyn told him her name as well. He then surprisingly asked her to marry him, to which she politely answered "No." He took the rebuff admirably, responding that he understood her hesitancy to marry an actor for "An actor is not quite a human being-- but then, who is?" Then, he passed out right next to her in an abrupt snore. Ironically, Marilyn would meet George Sanders again when they performed in All About Eve together, one of her big career-boosting films. In it, they would share another scene on a staircase.

Marilyn and George Sanders relive the old days

in a scene from All About Eve.

Marilyn's meeting with Bette Davis was not as hilarious as her interlude with the humorously snide Sanders. A huge fan of Bette's, Marilyn was nervous to meet her for the first time on Eve, but she tried to impart her deep appreciation for her work. Bette, being Bette, saw only a beautiful tart who, to her, was just one of a zillion pretty faces trying to make it in Hollywood. To a great actress like herself, Marilyn was a hack-- a little girl who just wanted to be famous and had no respect for the art of performance. For this reason, Bette shunned her, although that may too have had a lot to do with her own insecurity and the fact that she was being eclipsed by a younger, more beautiful woman. Throughout the shoot, Marilyn would overhear Bette taking out her wrath, most particularly during the theater lobby scene. Between takes, Bette could be heard saying (purposely loud enough for Marilyn to hear ),"That little blonde slut can't act her way out of a paper bag!" Such altercations depleted Marilyn's confidence and increased her terror of the infamous Bette. In the end, Marilyn had the last laugh, for although Bette churned out another flawless performance, Marilyn stole every scene she was in (as seen left). The camera loved Diva Davis, but it was in love with Monroe.

Ava Gardner (right) had a meeting with Bette that was not completely dissimilar. Ava was also agog at the movie queen's power. When she met her at a particular soiree, she told Bette that she was truly honored to meet her. Again, Bette raised the classic eyebrow, but perhaps sensing that Ava had a great deal more bite than the timid Marilyn, she offered only the crack:  "Of course you are," and walked off. (Bette is perhaps the only woman in history who can be perfectly bitchy and still perfect).

Bad, bad Bette.

Bette's meetings with men were different. A bit of a sexual tigress, Bette enjoyed the company of attractive leading men like Paul Henreid or George Brent. However, during her early film days, she often complained that she was cast opposite lackluster actors-- rising stars who had not yet reached their summit. She felt snubbed and craved an actor with whom she could go mono e mono. For this reason, she was ecstatic when she learned that she would be starring opposite the great Charles Boyer in All This and Heaven Too. Finally! A handsome talent that she could sink her teeth into. However, on the first day she was to perform opposite Charles, Bette was confused. She scanned the set, but didn't see him anywhere. When she saw a pudgy, balding Frenchman intruding on the sound stage, she tried to have him removed, only to discover that he was, in fact, Charles Boyer! Turns out that good ol' Chuck had to wear a toupee and a girdle for his film roles to appear more dashing, making his offscreen appearance almost unrecognizable. Shocked, Bette didn't think she could feign attraction to, well, a schlub! But, in a magical way that only the classy Boyer could do, he was able to transform into a heroic, charming, and handsome romantic as soon as the director called "action." Bette had no further complaints.

Ironically, Bette was to play the more matronly character

in All This and Heaven Too opposite an elegant Boyer.

Another case of mistaken identity occurred for Grace Kelly. She and Cary Grant became great chums on the set of To Catch a Thief (left). For this reason, Cary decided to invite her to a party being thrown by Aristotle Onassis on his yacht. The two arrived together, with Cary looking his usual, elegant self, but Grace looked more like a school teacher in her casual wear and thick eyeglasses. As glamorous as she was onscreen, away from the cameras she was down-to-earth and shy, becoming somewhat of a wallflower. An unaffected person, her beauty was something she merely turned on when necessary, not something she luxuriated in. For this reason, Onassis didn't even recognize the great movie goddess! When she and Cary made their exit, Onassis pulled Cary aside and thanked him for coming. He also told him to feel free to bring his charming "secretary" along again next time. That he did, for Cary and Grace remained close pals until her untimely death.

Groucho Marx (right) also had a bit of trouble recognizing a certain actress the first time they met, but for very different reasons. While in the Thalberg building, Groucho once entered the elevator to find it inhabited by a woman with a very large hat. From what he could make out of her profile, she looked familiar. Was it? Could it be? Not one to be shy, the funny man reached over, lifted the woman's hat, and took a peek. Sure enough, it was Greta Garbo. You couldn't mistake a mug like that! Of course, being the aloof and socially awkward woman that she was, Greta offered little in the way of conversation. Thus, to neutralize the situation, Groucho simply said: "I'm terribly sorry, but I thought you were a fellow I knew from Kansas City."

Greta ponders Groucho's quip.

Some of the most interesting cases of star meetings occur on the set. When paired up for the first-- and sometimes only-- time, the nature of an introduction says a lot about the relationship two actors are to have with each other. When Clark Gable finally and begrudgingly took on the role of Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, the punctual pro was irritated that his leading lady was late to their first publicity photo shoot. Pacing back and forth, he muttered to the photographer something to the effect of, "Where the Hell is this lady? If this is the way she works, I'll walk off right now!" Suddenly, ringing out behind him as clear as bell, came a sweet, English voice saying, "I quite agree, Mr. Gable...  I'd tell that Vivien Leigh to go straight back to England and f*ck herself!" Clark turned around to see his stunningly beautiful co-star, Vivien, and offered her a big grin. All anger was forgotten, and after taking her hand, he led her to their place in front of the camera and started the romance to crush all movie romances (left). Their relationship remained contentious: one minute they were locking horns about a scene and the next they were playing Battleship together.

Katharine Hepburn had wanted to act with Spencer Tracy for some time by the time they were both cast in Woman of the Year (right). Kate had great respect for Spencer's straight-shooter acting style, and-- though a confident lady herself-- she was surprisingly nervous the first time the two were to meet. Prior to shooting the film, Kate happened to be on the backlot when she bumped into Spencer and Joseph L. Mankiewicz on the stairs. After an initial "Hello, nice to meet you," Kate, who was in heels, found herself surprisingly tougue tied, and after referencing their upcoming film together, she spit out: "I'm sorry, with these shoes I'm afraid I'll be a bit tall for you." Spencer just mulled her over, not saying a word, trying to make out the strange but intriguing woman in front of him. Finally, Joe piped in with, "Don't worry, he'll cut you down to size." Indeed he did. The confusion and butterflies initially felt turned to love once the cameras rolled.

William Powell and Myrna Loy are remembered as one of the greatest film teams of all time, portraying most infamously the madcap couple Nick and Nora Charles of the Thin Man series (left). Their initial meeting was just as chaotic and hilarious as any of their crime solving buffoonary. Things were moving rapidly their first day of shooting on Manhattan Melodrama. In fact, the two didn't even have time to be properly introduced by W.S. Van Dyke before they were rushed into "take one." In the scene, Myrna's character was to rush into Powell's cab, so William sat waiting in the car for her to enter. Van Dyke called "action," but instead of saying the written lines when Myrna entered, William quipped: "Miss Loy, I presume?" Myrna burst out laughing. The two became fast friends, and the wisecracks and hijinks ensued throughout their numerous films together.

A less gentlemanly handshake occurred when legendary screen siren Joan Crawford met hot new leading man John Garfield. The two were assigned to do Humoresque (right), a film about a wealthy patroness and her kept man/musician. The lusty Joan was excited to work with John, who had become the talk of the town with his bold and earthy characterizations. When introduced their first day on the film, Joan held out her hand saying, "It's very nice to meet you." John responded by reaching out and pinching her breast. A moment of silence passed. Joan then calmly looked up, met John's gaze, and responded: "You know, I think we're going to get on just fine." That they did, performing superbly and sensuously on film and off, enjoying a brief and amicable affair. Only in Hollywood...

MENTAL MONTAGE: When First We Met