HOT SPOTS in CA: The Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum

In the old west you had to be "in it to win it." Could you stand days on end 

in this cramped space?

Marlene Dietrich is most remembered for her seductive roles in top and tails, but the German vixen was also a surprising hit in Westerns. Her most popularly remembered role is that of Frenchy in Destry Rides Again, but she also starred in The Spoilers and Rancho Notorious. Her co-star in The Spoilers just so happens to be last month's L.A. La star, John Wayne. So, in honor of both, here is further tribute to the Western via the delightful and very informative Autry National Center. Giddy up!

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Located in the seemingly infinite space of Griffith Park, this gem is housed right across the parking lot from the Los Angeles Zoo. Inside, there are both permanent displays that commemorate the very harrowing, inspiring, and sometimes violent roots of our nation's past and westward movement-- as well as the manifestation of this history in our cinematic past-- and temporary, rotating displays that showcase different artists, craftsman, etc, which are evidence of our still adherent yet evolving culture from these early days. The museum itself is named for Hollywood's favorite singing cowboy, Gene Autry, but gunslingers aren't the only faction of our culture that are examined: the American Indian, women, Chinese immigrants, Mexicans, etc. are all showcased, and the interrelations between these many peoples are thoroughly investigated.

Gene greets his guests.

The navigation of the fairly large building begins, as always, at the beginning. The front entrance is encased in a courtyard, smack in the center of which is a sculpture commemorating Mr. Autry. Behind him is a movie theater, which occasionally plays, of course, Westerns or other educational programs, and across from this is a small eatery. Attached to the main building is the gift shop, in which one can purchase anything from the usual cheesy knick-knack, to old movie posters, to American Indian crafts like the "secret box"-- which is a very intricately detailed and beautifully designed box that an unskilled person will have an incredible amount of trouble opening. Luckily, this wasn't my first rodeo. (BTW, if you're interested, I particularly like Heartwood Creations, which can be found here).

Alberto Valdes's "Christmas Child."

The inner sanctum is divided into an upstairs and a down. The upper left is dedicated to two rotating displays. When I attended last, I was fortunate enough to be able to view "Art Along the Hyphen: The Mexican-American Generation," which obviously honors the "Chicano" artists in our nation's history. All of the portraits and sculptures were very vivid in their perspective of Mexican-American life, from the beauty of to the struggle of the Mexican immigrant. The greatest surprise to me was my introduction to the artist Alberto Valdes whose provocative paintings were composed of such vibrant colors that they literally seemed to glow. His palette and use of shapes produce the most amazing emotional effects and equally stimulate the eye and mind. A few of his pictures were very specific in the images that they were trying to relate, while others were more intricate and subjective-- surreal but not bizarre. Forgive me, I'm not an art major, so I don't know the correct terms. In layman's terms, they were pretty and pretty cool.

Just a few strands of entwined grass. No biggie.

The next showroom possessed a collection of American Indian basketry. I know what you're thinking: "Baskets... Riveting." Well, it kind of was. In the center of the room was a large circular map of the entire country, and the locations of different tribes were delineated by examples of their particular weaving "style." It was a truly interesting thing to see how the different techniques and artistic penchants varied based on the separate tribes and their regions. As for the baskets themselves, which came in all shaped and sizes, these things were intricate! There were some jaw-dropping videos playing that showed modern weavers at work, and to say that their fingers are nimble is an understatement. I'm still not at all certain how they are able to make all of those delicious little patterns with the wicker and sweetgrass and whatnot, but my lack of awareness did not hamper my aesthetic enjoyment.

The gang's all here: Hollywood's favorite cowboys decorate

the downstairs wall in a jaw-dropping mural.

Moving downstairs, I was immediately hit in the face with an exquisite mural depicting early man's emergence in the west transitioning to the cowboy movie star. The portrait is literally a panorama of visual history. It begins with the hey-day of the American Indian, moves to the collision of natives and white settlers, and ends with movie and television stars like Gary Cooper, Tom Mix, and William S. Hart. It was at this point that I realized non-flash photography was allowed and all of the covert pics that I had been taking were unnecessary. I thought I was being stealthy; turns out no one cared. After taking some shots of the astounding painting, I turned directly behind me and ventured to the outdoor exhibit that tried to bring to life the physical environment and vegetation of the old west. A small space composed of a mini-waterfall and pond, there really wasn't much to look at, but a couple of kids were having a heck of a time "sifting for gold" at an educational exhibit.

One of many reasons I am proud to be a (modern) American-

better medical care.

Thus I re-entered and began my investigation of the historical portion of the museum. This turned out to be my favorite part. I have been to history museums before, but it has admittedly been awhile, so perhaps that is why I was so enthralled with all of the archaeology, or maybe it was the specificity of the subject matter that I found so fascinating. In any case, what I was about to witness was a thorough, moving, and surprising tribute to America's early expansion. The bottom level is divided into three portions: Opportunity, Community, and The Cowboy. I started in "Opportunity," and found myself looking at typical odds and ends of civilian life now made atypical due to their antiquated state. I was most impressed with an early medical kit, perhaps because I have two family members in the dental profession, and I found myself grabbing my jaw and thanking God that medical science has progressed. Much of this section was dedicated to the story of early militia or lawmen, and several compartments honored their efforts toward the establishment of order in the Wild West-- not an easy task as people continued to make their move into the unknown and ungoverned territory. Old uniforms, still in incredible condition, were showcased, as well as weaponry. Other items typically found on the long stage rides-- remember this is pre-locomotive-- were also on display, including luggage, toiletries, and an old coach in toto. Looking at the size of the thing, I was at once impressed by how much larger it was than I had imagined and also was in awe of the fact that, despite this, it still seemed far too small for so many people to be packed inside for such long travels. Our forefathers and mothers were certainly patient.

The integration of the American Indian into typical eastern ways was not 

smooth nor welcome. But here is an example of such 

assimilation-- native law adapts to "foreign" 

government to protect their own.

In the next section, I came across examples of every day life in the West. The most intriguing portion was dedicated to dissecting all of the different factions and how they operated independently from and also in relation to each other. Racism was an issue that certainly came to the forefront, and it was amazing to see even in these early days how many different religions and ethnicities co-existed and at the same time sought their own individual spaces from each other. Mormons, Chinese Immigrants, African American, Italians... You name it. in these early days, birds of a feather flocked together to produce some sort of stability amidst the chaos that came, not just from the danger and suspicion of the nature around them nor from the Native Americans observing them with equal puzzlement and frustration, but from each other. The color of one's skin, the religion he practiced, or the nation from which he had come, became defining factors that tied him to his own people and divided him from all others. As this co-mingling slowly merged into a (slightly) more civilized combination of communities, prejudice gave way to abundance. But along with the daily laundry and cooking, there too was need for fun, which is why the saloon room was one of the highlights of the exhibit for me. With an actual bar complete with ancient liquor bottles and beer advertisements, poker tables, and a roulette wheel, I could almost smell the tobacco. If there is one thing that brings all mankind together, it's liquor.

Can ya' smell the whiskey?

The final portion was completely dedicated to the life of the cowboy. In addition to a display depicting the famous shoot-out at the OK Corral featuring Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp, there too was a Colt gallery with some of the most amazing pistols I have ever seen: jewelry for men. Further down, several displays replicated the daily life and toil of the authentic American cowboy, and it was nowhere near as glamorous as the movies portray it, lemme tell ya'. These men worked hard, sweated, fought steers, tangled with barbed wire, and drove cattle across the country, not so much in the name of progress or money-- excluding of course the cattle baron-- but to survive. For the authentic cowboy, the lifestyle possessed no glamour and little respite. It was simply a job-- a way to make a living. Strange how the memory of these pioneers has evolved into perhaps the most romanticized piece of American mythology. However, our continuing appreciation is a good thing. Without these fellows of spur and saddle putting down roots, we wouldn't be sittin' so pretty in our ivory towers, now would we?

A couple of the prize Colts on display. Purty ain't they?

Which brings me to the final portion of the museum: "Imagination." This section was dedicated entirely to the cowboy as a cultural icon and the way he has manifested himself in several mediums, including music, television, and-- of course-- movies. From the silent heroes, to the rhinestone cowboys, to the singin' Gene Autry, every brand of Western celebrity was investigated. Movie buffs will be pleased to see costumes from some of their favorite films as worn by their favorite performers, including Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, and Betty Hutton. Because the Western genre has become somewhat buried in present cinema, it was nice to see so much of it revived for public viewing, and the true impact that it has had on this country and its descendants was blatantly identified. Perhaps because this is a history that only we as Americans possess, do we cherish it so greatly. Of course, the power of the cowboy and the Western has drifted into other countries and affected other filmmakers and other film goers, but it is a past that is undeniably in our bones and a part of our souls. There is no cowboy but the American cowboy, which is perhaps why the stars of the silver screen who adorned their heads with ten gallon hats remain some of the most revered in the history of film.

The costumes of Duke and Kate from Rooster Cogburn.

My voyage of the museum over for the time being, I reluctantly departed. As I drove through the winding roads of Griffith Park in the luxury of my Mazda, I found myself grateful for the fruits I had been gifted after a hard won progression of others' labors. But too, I found myself envious of a rugged life of sweat and determination-- a life earned every day by the mere cost of living it. Though the history that I encountered at the Autry Museum is, indeed, history, I don't feel that what I witnessed there is dead. I think every American and every man, woman, and child who ever has or ever will come to American shores for a better life, possesses within him the same inexplicable need to carve out a niche for himself in an open space wherein he can toil, battle, and finally thrive as the keeper of his own destiny. With crowded cities and cement everywhere, it is hard to see the forest without the trees, but our personal adventures of stakes and claims continue. The Wild West, therefore, will always grow and expand within us, for we carry it in our hearts.

A few of Chuck Connors's belongings.

To visit The Autry Museum:

Griffith Park

4700 Western Heritage Way
Los Angeles, CA 90027-1462
T: 323.667.2000
Tuesday–Friday, 10:00 a.m.–4:00 p.m.

Saturday–Sunday, 11:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m.
Closed on Mondays.

$10 for Adults.

$6 Seniors and Students

$4 Children 3-12 years-old

Free for Children under 3.

Free Parking.

HOT SPOTS in CA: The Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum

STAR OF THE MONTH: Marlene Dietrich

Marlene Dietrich is one of those incredibly annoying people who makes everything look easy. From her flawless appearance and sense of fashion, to her unparalleled career on the silver screen and on the stage, to her tireless efforts and ceaseless energy, to the inexplicable way she could attract the opposite sex (or her own), the woman always seemed to get what she wanted. But, "seem" is the key word here. While fans may be hypnotized by her infectious persona and sultry sensuality, there was much work that went behind the make-up. The dignified, impenetrable force of Dietrich's strength-- the core of her integrity-- is the true source of her allure, and why her camera-beloved face remains as well-known and worshipped today as it did during her Hollywood reign. With Marlene, we are always "falling in love again." We can't help it.

Marlene Dietrich

Marie Magdalene Dietrich, nicknamed "Leni," was born in Schoneberg, Germany just outside Berlin on December 27, 1901. From the beginning, it was clear that the child was special, if only because of her exceptional beauty, which every passer-by seemed to comment on. But there was something else to Leni. She was not studious and obedient like her elder sister "Liesel". While she did adhere to her parents' rules and learned early about responsibility and cleanliness, there was too a bit of mischief brewing within that was just waiting to erupt. Leni never connected with her father, Louis Erich Otto Dietrich, who was an imperial officer, but rather watched him curiously from afar. She bonded more with her mother, Josefine Felsing-- of the clockmaker family-- from whom she learned a love of cooking. One piece of education that Leni did not grasp was this concept of "gender roles." Her mother's need to keep up the household and her undeterred respect for her husband-- despite his philandering and slow decent from public dignity-- was at once embraced and refused by her youngest daughter. Leni could accept the duty but shirked the lack of freedom. After her father died-- probably from syphilis, though the girls were told it was from a heart attack-- Leni was parted even more from her understanding of male authority. She never completely learned to open herself up emotionally to any man. There was always a distance, a misconception, and a space she needed to live in to feel safe. She was eternally conflicted. Her need to adhere and rebel would be forever ingrained in her subconscious. 


While sister Liesel excelled at school and went on to become a teacher, Marlene-- as Leni was now more glamorously calling herself-- was not so inclined. She received good marks, but had no use for education outside of violin lessons and French class, which she loved. When her favorite French teacher was forced to leave the country when WWI commenced, Marlene had her first taste of war, her first taste of the prejudice it brings, and her first taste of poverty. Her single mother worked hard to keep her girls clothed and fed, but eating potatoes and turnips day after day was unbearable, though as a well-behaved child, Marlene knew never to complain, even when every one in town's skin started turning yellow from the forced diet. Marlene insisted that her skin alone maintained its glorious, porcelain glow-- already she was building a legend for herself. The lack of dairy products also led an older Marlene to believe that the continuous bone breaks she suffered were due to her poor childhood nourishment and lack of calcium. She would never forget these days: not for their want nor for her mother's courage in pulling them all through. Thankfully, Josefine was able to attract the attention of a new husband, another army officer, Lt. Eduard von Losch, who gave the new family firmer legs to stand on and plenty of money to survive. He would too die early, leaving Marlene fatherless yet again, but he did not leave his grieving widow destitute, thank heavens.

A young Marlene in her Weimar years.

As a teen, Marlene decided that she was going to be an artist: a musician. She studied music in Weimar, however, she suffered a tendon inflammation in her wrist that brought her dreams of playing the violin to an end. Her next idea was to become an actress. When she wasn't accepted at the Max Reinhardt Drama School, Josefine must have breathed a sigh of relief, but that wasn't going to stop her Leni. Unlike Liesel, Marlene liked attention. Despite her mother's protestations that she should be more ladylike and demure, Marlene could not deny that she enjoyed capturing male glances and dressing a bit more colorfully. Her ability to put clothes together came from her grandmother, who passed on her own talent for fashion composition. Living in a country that was bereft of the majority of its men only instigated Marlene further in her independence. Weimar women learned to fend for themselves: and Marlene was not going to give that up when the boys came home. She enjoyed engaging in romances with them, though. Her intense sexual passions were born early, and she honestly penned her attraction to both sexes in her diary. While she may have been nursing a crush on screen hero Henny Porten, it would be Rudolf Seiber aka "Rudi" who earned her love and loyalty. After doing some modeling, scoring some small roles in plays and silent films-- such as her debut, The Little Napoleon-- Marlene met her soul mate when auditioning for an extra job on Tragedy of Love. With so many beautiful girls in attendance, she nearly went unnoticed until Rudi caught a glimpse of her bright, green gloves. He cast her in the small role of Lucie, wherein she stole the show-- with her monocle an boa-- and Rudi's heart.


After the duo was married on May 17, 1923, Marlene quickly became pregnant with their first and only child. She took to mothering like a duck to water, and at first thought of giving up the stage to nurture her little Maria. This is symptomatic of much in Marlene's character-- there was always a divide between her natural sense of duty to the ideals of her mother and her own desires. Needless to say, the state of domestic bliss did not remain entrancing. Submission was never in the cards for Marlene, particularly to a man. Thus began one of the most unconventional families in Hollywood history. Marlene and Rudi's physical relationship came to an end, though they remained husband and wife until his dying day. Their mutual love and respect remained, they were best friends, but Marlene needed her freedom, and Rudi was forced to give it to her. While both enjoyed sexual relationships outside the marriage, with Rudi taking in his permanent mistress, dancer Tamara Matul, and Marlene accruing a great number of her own lovers, it seems that it was the absence of sex with each other that was the saving grace of their marriage. They were friends, business partners, and parents. Maria thus grew up with three parents, including Tami, and whatever random "Uncle" or "Aunt" Marlene brought around. While Marlene continued pursuing her career, taking roles on stage and in films-- most of which she would refuse to remember in her later years-- Rudi supported her decision and acted as a business advisor to her. Yet, it would be another man who would truly advance her career.

Marlene eclipses the man who won the first Academy Award for Best Actor, 

Emil Jannings, in the film that made her a star: The Blue Angel.

Josef von Sternberg was commissioned to make Germany's first talking picture in 1929, quite the compliment. The Jewish filmmaker from Vienna actually came to Berlin from the United States, where he had been working and building up experience from the editing room to finally the director's chair. While not initially ecstatic about being re-teamed with the ornery Emil Jannings for The Blue Angel-- having worked with him previously on his Academy Award winning performance in The Last Command-- Josef could not turn down this career coup. Finding the girl to portray the desirous and dangerous Lola Lola from the Heinrich Mann novel Professor Unrat (The End of a Tyrant) was another problem all together. With many actresses coming at him for the plum role, Josef was dissatisfied with all of them. Then he happened to catch a glimpse of Marlene on stage in "Two Bow Ties," ironically when sizing up co-star Hans Albers. He would indeed cast matinee idol Hans in the film, but it was a surprise when he called Marlene in for a screen test. She was so certain that she had no chance, due to the disinterest Josef had shown her in their past meeting, that she came to set unprepared and without costume. Her indifference and outright antipathy worked to her benefit, because Josef was completely fascinated with her. Her devious and sensual quality came through in her test wherein she sang, "You're the Cream in My Coffee." Her attitude, allure, and ability to speak fluent English (which was needed, as they would be filming two versions of the film for universal release), in addition to her legs, won her the coveted role. She became a sensation in Germany overnight, though the United States would not catch a glimpse of Lola Lola until after Marlene made her first American film. 

Marlene grabs America's attention, and Gary Cooper's, in Morocco.

The Paramount scouts came calling, after it became apparent that Marlene-- an unknown-- had stolen the film from the incomparable Emil Jannings. She and Josef were brought to Hollywood, and she was forced to temporarily leave Rudi and Maria behind. She was put to work on Morocco opposite Gary Cooper where she strolled on camera in a top and tails and sent shock waves through the nation. Audiences loved it: her beauty, her ambivalence, her modernity. Women started wearing trousers and copying Marlene's in-control swagger. The English version of The Blue Angel soon debuted in the US, and shortly thereafter the German version was re-released to rave reviews. Marlene was a star, and a star of her own variety. At first, she was pegged as the German answer to Greta Garbo. No, no. She was "Dietrich," and there was no other. Morocco would earn her her first and only Oscar nomination, and she would continue teaming with Josef von Sternberg on the films that would establish her early Hollywood identity. Josef was hard on her, demanding, insulting, tyrannical, but-- at least at first-- Marlene did not argue or stand up to him. She could not deny the results. She studied the way she was lighted and perfected her makeup to give her the soft and ethereal beauty that wonderfully contrasted the morally questionable characters she portrayed. She was both beauty and the beast; unable to be trusted but unable to be resisted. Androgynous, mysterious, warm, yet detached. From Morocco to Blonde Venus, to The Shanghai Express, to The Devil is a Woman... while Josef's films were often lacking in interesting plot, they were rich in scenery. His mise en scene, frame compositions, and the beauty with which he filmed his favorite actress made his movies aphrodisiacs to a hungry, salivating public. They too made Marlene Dietrich a star.


However, in time, Marlene outgrew Josef and his controlling tantrums. She had learned all she needed to know and could control her image without him. Josef returned mistakenly to Europe, and Marlene remained in America. However, despite her savvy business sense, she had sticky fingers, and often spent money she didn't have on herself and family, basically becoming the breadwinner after Rudi, Tami, and Maria joined her in the U.S. This forced her hand, and she had to accept less than stellar roles in films that weakened her appeal and reputation. Yet, she stuck with it, even after she was labeled box-office poison. The faith of Joe Pasternak brought her back to the limelight in Destry Rides Again, and she reached the closest she would come to acting genius when friend Billy Wilder cast her in Witness for the Prosecution. Through it all, whether her films were flops or not, she maintained audience loyalty, and her public appearances brought out crowds in droves. Her bed was never cold either, and her list of lovers allegedly included everyone from Douglas Fairbanks, Jr, John Wayne, Mercedes de Acosta, Jimmy Stewart, and Jean Gabin-- the only man who came close to stealing her from Rudi. To her lovers and friends, she was part vixen and part mother hen, cooking her mother's favorite recipes for those she took a liking to and making her special soup for anyone who seemed ill. She too had a knack for re-arranging closets. Her crews loved her, for despite her growing fame and her need to control her own lighting and wardrobe, she was friendly and accommodating. She was a pro who came to set knowing her lines and ready to work with the team. When she felt one of her co-stars or someone on crew was being mistreated, she would simply walk off until things were set right.

Marlene entertains the boys during WWII. She considered it one of the most 

enriching and important acts of her life.

This heroic part of her nature is her most compelling feature. Though her acting is something to behold-- at times brilliant, at times hammily overdone-- it is not her film work so much as her persona that makes her a lasting fascination. Marlene time and again lent her strength to those in need, to those weaker than herself, or to those who did not possess her same go-get-it attitude. While men like Ernest Hemingway and Noel Coward were drawn to her beauty and intellect, they were enveloped by her warmth, which was far-reaching. She made a direct point to try to save the life of John Gilbert after his career had plummeted, and in addition to being a guiding force that reunited him with his daughter, a grateful Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, she too took him out in public and tried to get him working again. It was a valiant effort sadly failed. She would mourn his passing deeply but remained a caring mother figure to Leatrice. Most noteworthy are her efforts during the war. Marlene was vocal from the beginning that her home country was being enveloped by madness, and she forsook her homeland to become a grateful American citizen. She pressured America to get invested in WWII before anyone would admit such horrors could touch us, and after we did, she became one of the soldiers' favorite entertainers. She would generally enter on stage by slipping one of her famous legs through the curtain, then use her musical talents to sing a wartime favorite, such as "Lili Marleen," or play the musical saw. She went uncomplainingly without her usual glamour to bring peace to men fighting a battle she found all too familiar to that of her youth. When she traveled in a one woman show in her later years, many of these boys returned to see her back stage and thank her for what she had done.

Marlene stuns Tyrone Power with her stems in Witness for the Prosecution.

Whatever personal pains or torments Marlene possessed, she always kept hidden behind her exquisite mask of professionalism and personality. As she aged, the softness of her beauty gave way to a hardened look-- the result of pulling her skin back beneath her wig-- that turned her into somewhat of a caricature of her former self, yet a still beloved one. After scoring in Stage Fright, A Foreign Affair, and Judgment at Nuremberg-- for which she had to give the painful "we did not know" speech that she did not agree with-- Marlene slowly faded from the silver screen. She embraced the stage of her youth, touring with Burt Bacharach or playing to packed houses in Las Vegas. However, despite the fact that she defied her own age, she could not escape it. Repeated falls and broken bones, which she always ignored in order to continue the show, caught up with her. A dependence on pain pills and alcohol too took their toll. After her husband Rudi died, Marlene became further despondent, especially as her always loving but complicated relationship with her daughter suffered. She ended her days alone, hiding from the world, and bedridden, too ashamed to show the world that the beauty they had so long counted on had faded. Friends like Billy Wilder or Doug Fairbanks, Jr. would try to call and cheer her only to be met with a fake French accent insisting that she wasn't there. Marlene had always insisted that she would die young. She would live to be 90, passing away on May 6, 1992. She wanted to be buried in her beloved Paris and, always conscientious, wanted to be placed in a cemetery next to a nice restaurant, so her visitors would have somewhere to eat. She was instead sent home to lie near her mother Josefine in Berlin. Her homecoming was warmly welcomed by locals, some of whom during the war years had shunned her and had even spat at her when she returned post WWII to perform. Time had healed those wounds; she re-emerged as an international hero. After spending a life away from her native soil, Marlene was finally home.

Quintessential Dietrich: taken while filming Seven Sinners.

Marlene's last screen appearance was in Just a Gigolo, an error in judgement perhaps, but a necessary one considering the spending habits that had left her a bit destitute. She demanded to appear with a veil covering her face to mute her age. She was reluctant, nervous about appearing on camera in less than her usual top form. Members of the crew were surprised at first to see the frail, 75-year-old woman exiting her dressing room-- they had spent their lives worshipping a much more vibrant Marlene on the screen. But, as always, she did not disappoint. After taking one look at herself in a full length mirror, Dietrich emerged. Her confidence and poise in tact, she went to set and belted her heart out one last time for the cameras, leaving not a dry eye in the male-packed house. That was Marlene, and that is the Marlene we still see. She refused to ever disappoint her audiences, but doing so required her to forever meld with the image of a tempting, unattainable siren. Never a great "actress," she still leaves us in awe. Never a great singer, she still lures us to dangerous yet inviting waters. Josefine once called her, "my little soldier." So she was. So she remains.

STAR OF THE MONTH: Marlene Dietrich

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

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part VI

Ginger Rogers: the face that launched a thousand woos. 

Just ask Burgess Meredith...

During the Hollywood hey-day, Ginger Rogers was one of the silver screen gals whom the men of America considered a dream come true. One thing that set her apart from her contemporaries was her approachability. As flirty and sassy as she was, her sexiness had a cuteness to it that made her both desirable and obtainable. She was the gorgeous girl-next-door who danced her way onto the silver screen and sang her way into men's hearts. The proof of her effect on the opposite sex could be seen early in her career. In addition to garnering a great amount of fan attention, her co-stars and co-workers often found themselves mooning over her. While working on the Broadway hit musical "Girl Crazy" in 1930, her scene partner Allen Kearns revealed his smitten condition before a live audience. During a scene together, Allen was to say to Ginger's character (Molly Gray), "Molly, I love you," (as seen left). Instead, he blurted out, "Ginger, I love you!"The audience started cracking up, and after a blush, the duo had no choice but to keep the scene going as if nothing had happened. However, the slip-up was so charming that they decided to do it again on purpose for the remaining shows. As a result, when the film version was made at MGM starring Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, Garland's character became "Ginger," both in honor of the preceding leading lady and the embarrassing romantic blunder that helped endear the show to audiences.

Burgess Meredith can be identified as another one of those pinched by Cupid's arrow in Ginger's presence. He made no secret of his affinity for the beautiful actress during the filming of their mutual project Tom, Dick and Harry (both in the film right) and flirted openly with her. He wanted to "woo" her, as would become blatantly obvious. Their attachment would never become truly romantic and was more of a friendship in which Burgess would poke fun at both Ginger's star persona and her enchanting effect on the opposite sex. As a prank, he started to send her lavish gifts every day on the set. The first was a box of chocolates, or rather a "candy woo," as he called it. The only problem was that the yummies were actually made of paper. He then sent her phony flowers as a "flower woo," fake jewelry ("pearl woo") and a ratty fur coat ("fur woo").  The rest of the cast and crew got very caught up in the hilarity, even going so far as to give Burgess suggestions and pointers on how to attack next. They came up with a "diamond woo" and a "car woo"-- the former involved an enormous fake gem and the latter a broken down Model-T Ford. Eventually, the gag got old and Burgess wore himself out. The two laughingly established an armistice and enjoyed the rest of the shoot. Ginger would always look back on this film fondly because of Burgess, whose shenanigans earned him a special place in her heart. In that respect at least, the wooing worked.

Speaking of pranks, it wasn't always the gents having fun at the ladies' expense. Sometimes, the girls got to have a little revenge as well. Hollywood's earliest Comedienne Fatale was Mabel Normand, whose carefree and boisterous humor made her a popular girl with friends and fans alike (see beauty, left). Part of her charm lied in her ability to lighten the mood when others were taking life too seriously. Sam Goldwyn would learn this when the gorgeous pip, unbeknown to him, was following him around  making faces while he lectured a film crew. Upon discovery, the perturbed Sam couldn't stay mad at her long. This was not just because he was in love with her like every other guy on the lot, but because no one could seem to stay mad at Mabel. Not even Ben Turpin, who had good reason. While filming one particular scene, Ben was to do a bit with a live bear, which terrified him. In the days before computer generated effects, actors had to duel with live animals all the time, and this kind of authenticity scared the bejeezus out of the cross-eyed clown. As such, he insisted that a stuffed bear be used instead. This was a logical request, but Mabel-- who had done her share of animal stunt work-- decided to have a little fun at Ben's expense. Ben crawled into bed beside the fake bear and, just to be sure it was phony, stuck one of Louis Fazenda's hat pins in it. It laid still, so Ben relaxed. Little did he know that Mabel too was in that bed with him, buried beneath the stuffed mammal. No sooner had the camera started rolling , then Mabel moved the bear's arms around Ben, who jumped up in fear and shot out of frame! The moment was so hilarious that it was used in the final print. Mabel thought it was a gas. After all, if a little lady like her could go mono e mono with a lion (in The Extra Girl), then a grown man like Ben could be teased a little about his lack of carnivore courage.

Ben Turpin, armed and ready for Mabel. (I wonder if she's the

 reason he went cross-eyed in the first place)?

Sid Grauman was known for two things in Hollywood: being the greatest showman in the motion-picture business and being the grandest prankster. As lush and extravagant as his movie palaces were-- like the Egyptian and the Chinese theaters in Hollywood-- so too were his gags. One of his favorite marks, and every one else's apparently, was again Sam Goldwyn. The uptight, no-nonsense businessman clearly needed to be taken down a peg or two. Since Sam was an early movie mogul, it was easy for him to find young women willing to go out and enjoy the town with him, and he certainly could have his pick of the prettiest, eagerest ingenues around. Thus, Sid decided to enlist the help of his pal and fellow funny man, Charles Chaplin (both pals right), to teach the egomaniac a bit of a lesson. Charlie offered to set Sam up on a date with a gorgeous girl: "And I mean gorgeous, Sam. You won't find another like her!" Sam, to no surprise, agreed to the blind date, and nearly went blind himself when he found himself sitting across from Sid... In drag. (Pause for spastic laughter as Chaplin grabs his side and hits the floor howling). Another kindly cruel joke was played on friend Ernst Lubitsch, whom Sid knew for a fact had a fear of flying. One day, when Sid caught wind that Ernst was about to (reluctantly) take to the air, he concocted another scheme. After the plane had taken off, he paid two actors dressed as pilots to run from the cockpit and exclaim, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting outta here!" They then jumped from the plane (with parachutes one hopes) leaving a shaking Ernst in their wake. Luckily, there were still authentic pilots flying the plane, and Ernst made it home safe, where he most certainly gave Sid a swift kick in the behind.

Gloria Swanson's hands are immortalized at Grauman's Chinese 

Theater with the help of pal Sid.

Not all of these guffaw-inducing moments were purposeful, however. Sometimes, in fact, certain people were not even aware that they were the butt of the joke. Take Gary Cooper, for example. Coop certainly had his charms and could throw out a dirty limerick or two, but he wasn't really known for his side-splitters. Nonetheless, he could be accidentally entertaining from time to time. Just ask neighbor Veronica Lake. Ronni (right in Ramrod) had taken to Coop, since he was a salt of the earth kind of guy and not one of those stuck-up, pretentious types who so annoyed her. Thus, when she would see him passing by atop his horse in the hills near her home, it would always bring a friendly smile to her face... and a bit of a chuckle. See, Coop had a habit of going for midnight rides when he couldn't fall asleep, especially on Friday evenings. So, he'd climb on his horse and ride a pace, only to  finally conk out in the saddle. The first time Ronni saw his snoring, slumped form ambling by, she probably cocked that iconic eyebrow with a "What the...?" But she got used to it. She was more worried when she didn't see Coop's horse-aided somnambulism than when she did. "No need to wave. Coop's just sleep-riding again. Saturday morning, and all's well!"

Coop on his horse and much more alert.

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part VI