HISTORY LESSON: Art Imitating LIfe

Linda Darnell's too good to be true life story was the inspiration 

for one of her biggest films.

I have referenced multiple times in the past the fascinating mirror effect of reality and fiction. One such article, The Blurring of Violence, dealt with the way life has appeared at times to imitate art-- or at least claim to. Today's turn will examine the way art has imitated life in the movies, or more particularly how it has directly imitated the lives of its stars. Of course, there are a string of biopics about our celebrity favorites, from the Good, to the Grand, to the Ugly, (aka Man of a Thousand Faces, Chaplin, and Harlow), but while these direct tributes of celebrity life are fascinating-- a movie about a movie star making movies-- there too are examples wherein filmdom more indirectly borrows stories from stars' lives to spice up their scripts. Here are some occurrences when art has imitated the lives of its artists:

Linda Darnell's rise to fame and celebrity stature was just the sort of Cinderella story that made Hollywood the dream town of youths all over the nation. While "overnight success" is not really achieved overnight, the hard work and persistence that Linda put into her dream would pay off suddenly and shockingly to the 15-year-old when she signed with Twentieth-Century Fox in 1939. Suddenly, a switch was flipped-- Monetta Darnell was off, and Linda Darnell was on. After her breakthrough roles in Hotel for Women and Daytime Wife, Darryl F. Zanuck and company decided to capitalize off Linda's sudden appeal and "road to super-stardom" story. Thus, by the age of sixteen, a script was already being penned for the new starlet by Jessie and Ivan Kahn about her up-to-now life story... sort of. While the film did tell the tale of a small town girl turned movie gem, the old Hollywood spit and polish made things much more palatable to a glamour loving public, thus Linda's eccentric mother Pearl, for example, was not included in the plot. However, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star-- as it was originally titled-- did include some facts in its fictions. When Linda first came to Fox, she rode on the train with two fellow discoveries: Dorris Bowden and Mary Healy. In the film, later titled Star Dust, these two supporting characters were rolled into one, and Mary herself took on the role of "Mary Andrews." In the film, Mary's character was made to be a flop in pictures who finds happiness in the real world. This made Linda's light shine a little brighter as character Carolyn-- one of the few lucky, "chosen" ones. (This plot point was somewhat premonitory in that Mary's career never did take off like Linda's, and she made few feature films). Director Walter Lang also replicated Linda's original Fox screen test of "Two Nuts on a Sidewalk," even using her same wardrobe, though Linda admitted that the fake test was better than her original one. John Payne was added into the mix as another movie hopeful and love interest-- with a constantly broken nose-- to give the film a little romance, though Linda had no such beau upon her Hollywood arrival. Strangely enough, she was falling for cinematographer Pev Marley behind the scenes on this project. When the film premiered, Linda's name was above the title, with Fox declaring that Linda was a star before she'd had any real time to prove her mettle. In a little twist of life imitating art, Linda would immortalize her hand prints outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre after the film's premiere on March 18, 1940, just as her character had at the end of Star Dust. For one so young, it was totally unprecedented and a living dream come true. (Ironically, the movie that declared Linda a star was the same one she watched the night she suffered the fire that claimed her life. Linda is with Mary Healy and John Payne, left).

Katharine Hepburn (right) was superbly represented by another Kate, Cate Blanchett, in Martin Scorsese's The Aviator in 2004, but Kate actually brought a little of her true life to the screen over 60 years prior in the film Stage Door. When still a struggling thespian, Kate had performed in the play "The Lake" in the early '30s. It was a critical disaster that resulted in one of her most scathing reviews a la illustrious drama critic Dorothy Parker: "Hepburn ran the gamut of emotions from A to B." The negative reviews were certainly devastating to the young actress, who took her work very seriously. Having had previous raves for "The Warrior's Husband," the sudden change in mood was hard to swallow, especially since "The Lake" was basically her Broadway debut. Director/Producer Jed Harris was little help, having pushed her in his direction against her natural instincts, thus instigating a flawed performance. He too blamed her for the play's failure. As per usual, Kate took the lumps and pressed on chin up. Fast forward 4 years to Kate accepting the role of the socially oblivious but goodhearted actress Terry Randall in Stage Door. Kate would poke a little fun at herself, and perhaps at Dorothy as well, during an important plot point. Having snagged a role in "Enchanted April" from another actress, Terry finds herself underwhelming in her performance and unable to deliver the following lines with conviction: "The calla lillies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower. I carried them on my wedding day. And now I place them there, in memory of someone who is dead." These were actually the self same lines that she delivered on stage in "The Lake!" However, in Stage Door, as in her life, she was able to prove herself. After learning that the actress she had inadvertently wronged had killed herself, her performance in "Enchanted April" became jaw-droppingly honest and poignant. Terry could act after all! So could Hepburn. In later years, Dorothy Parker would recant her earlier assessment, saying that she believed Hepburn to be one of the finest actresses in the biz and that her original, infamous quotation had been a "joke." Good recovery, Dot. (Use of the play "Enchanted April" was another inside joke, as a film of that name had been an RKO failure a couple of years prior.)

Kate's co-star in Stage Door, Ginger Rogers, also indulged in a little game of live and tell. After Ginger won the "Texas State Charleston Competition" at the tender age of fourteen, she and her mother, Lela, rode across the enormous state in a continuing performance circuit. Immediately after this, she began an engagement working with bandleader Henry Santrey, which meant that she and Lela would continue traveling all over the United States. Needless to say, there were a lot of train rides. Because the dough needed to maintain one's career-- affording hotels, wardrobe, and food-- often made the cost of living higher than the rate of pay, the dynamic duo had to find ways to cut corners and save cash. One way was train fare. Mother and daughter came up with a scheme pretty early to have Ginger pretend to be two years younger, making herself twelve and thus eligible for child rates. To complete the illusion, along with her acting skills, Ginger carried a large Egyptian doll named "Freakus" around to both cover her face and make herself appear physically smaller. The plot worked like a charm until, fortunately, Ginger got far enough in her career to afford lawfulness and avoid a life of little white cons. However, she got a pleasant surprise when Billy Wilder sent her the script for The Major and the Minor, since Ginger's character pulls the exact same stunt as in her youth: she pretends to be a child in order to afford cheaper train fare only to find herself trapped in the illusion after meeting the handsome Ray Milland. Freakus, however, was substituted with a balloon (see left). Though feigning an eighteen year age difference was more difficult than a mere two year one, Ginger still pulled off the feat flawlessly. If it ain't broke... don't grow up.

Hollywood storytelling is not always a laugh, as our continuing subscriptions to rag-mags and website tell-alls can attest. The poster boy for movie star breakdowns in 1923 was America's favorite playboy, Wallace Reid (right). Having just lost his battle with morphine addiction, Wallace was cremated and put to rest at Glendale Forest Lawn cemetery, but his memory and untimely passing remained quite palpable in the public. His sad end would inspire a film, spearheaded by his grieving widow Dorothy (Davenport), about the devastating effects of drug abuse on family. Left alone with two young children, Wally Jr. and Betty, Dorothy became totally devoted to educating the nation about drug use. She equally wanted to finance a hospital in her husband's name that would care for addicts seeking mental and physical redemption. Wally's mother, Bertha, was opposed to the idea, not wanting her son to be remembered for the way he died, but Dorothy was adamant. She joined up with Harold Lloyd in forming the "Anti-Narcotics League of Los Angeles," which she too hoped to finance with profits from the movie, which was originally titled The Living Dead. 

Compiling a screenplay with C. Gardner Sullivan and signing on friend Elinor Ince as a producer (wife of Thomas), the movie got underway with the acting talents of luminaries such as James Kirkwood, Bessie Love (shooting up, left), and Dorothy herself. Jesse Lasky and the boys at Paramount had no hand in the film, which is perhaps emblematic of their guilt-- they were at least partially responsible for Wallace's dependence on morphine. Despite all of the intention, the plot was a bit over-dramatic and convoluted, involving the corruption of a taxi driver who becomes a substance abuser and, thereafter, a thief to support his habit. He then inexplicably pulls his lawyer down into the bowels of addiction with him, and the families of both men suffer as a result. However, while the lawyer finds absolution, the taxi driver does not and is killed in the end. The film was imperfect, but few critics would throw stones knowing that it was a legacy of love for Dorothy and a commemoration of one of their favorite, fallen soldiers. Some did argue that Dorothy was simply trying to profit off Wally's name-- in the film's opening she had credited herself as "Mrs.Wallace Reid"-- but with two kids to feed, who could blame her? Ironically, while the film was meant to save lives, it nearly ended two. Actors Harry Northrup and George Hackathrone were nearly killed in a collision when they had to jump from a car before being hit by a speeding train, (Oh, the days before special effects). While the end product of Human Wreckage had little to do with Wallace's life, it was a testament to what he had suffered and was notorious for its honest depiction of drug use, down to the painful realizations of withdrawal. If the story was able to save even one life, Wally certainly would have been proud.

Norman Maine (Fredric March) tries to balance his love of his wife, Vicki Lester (Janet Gaynor), 
with his jealousy over her career, as Adolphe Menjou looks on in 1937's A Star is Born.

There has been a great amount of controversy surrounding the back story of A Star is Born, a film that has been made thrice ('37, '54, and '76). The plot varies little between the different versions and involves-- similarly to Star Dust-- the meteoric rise of a young ingenue in the film business, as her lover/protege/husband's career crashes and burns. The character of "Vicki Lester" is coached into her career by fading idol "Norman Maine," whose decent into alcoholism in response to his jealousy over his new wife's career leads him to suicide. Even today, rumors abound in Hollywood, but just who the true source of this tragic tale is remains a hot debate. Many pinpoint MGM's silent leading man, John Gilbert (right), as the inspiration for Norman Maine's tragic hero. This is somewhat understandable when one compares the downward slide of Gilbert's career with that of Maine's--  in addition to his unfortunate taste for alcohol. However, many differences suggest otherwise. Gilbert was much more a victim in reality, whereas on screen the Norman Maine character is pretty much assumed the culprit of his own downward spiral-- a mixture of changing audience tastes, his addiction, and self-loathing. Some too may draw comparisons between the relationship of Norman and Vicki and Gilbert and Garbo, but Gilbert's kind guidance of Greta during her early studio days is vastly different from Maine's complete metamorphosis of and public campaign for Vicki in the film. Too, Gilbert did not commit suicide but suffered a heart attack, so the two characters there also have a divide. Yet, the method of Maine's self-annihilation-- drowning himself in the ocean-- does bring to mind a story as told by Marion Davies. Apparently, John-- who would occasionally fall into bouts of despair-- once fell under the spell of his own melancholia while at one of Marion's beach parties. Dramatically and drunkenly, he declared to all within ear shot that he was determined to kill himself. Some onlookers called his bluff and dared him to drown himself in the ocean. In defiance, Jack dove headfirst into the waves. A worried Marion called after him to stop, but the less sensitive wisecrackers assured her that Jack would not complete the task. When he was indeed washed back ashore not much later, he began weeping at his own cowardice to the jeers of onlookers. Marion's heart went out to her deeply disturbed friend, and she balled the jesters out. Since John's life is still causing inspiration, as seen in the latest The Artist, it is possible that A Star is Born also absorbed some of his tragic tale. 

But these likenesses between John and Norman are not the only bases for the film. Another popular lovers' feud often referred to with Star is that between Barbara Stanwyck and her first husband Frank Fay (together left). Babs was a struggling young actress of twenty-one when she married 36-year-old vaudeville comedian Fay in 1928. Under the more popular entertainer's protection and guidance, Babs was able to kick-start her own career and soon had movie offers. This story alone has spawned rumors, including those that allege the marriage was one of appearance only. There is argument that both Barbara and Frank were homosexuals who wed to cover their sexual preferences and protect their careers. However, if this was the case, it makes the situation that followed somewhat nonsensical. Almost immediately after the nuptials, the young bride went to Hollywood where she began working at United Artists, while funny man Fay continued on the road. Eventually, he made the move to Hollywood and was signed at Warners, but he failed to catch on with movie audiences like his wife had. This led to envious arguments that often turned physical. Friend and neighbor Joan Crawford was witness to more than one brawl. Allegedly, Frank wanted Barbara to give up her career and join him on the road when his contract was canceled in 1931, but she refused. After the duo adopted son Dion, Fay's drinking only increased.  The battling couple was a well-guarded secret in the press, but the bruises that Babs often sported were common knowledge around town. When an inebriated Fay threw son Dion into the family pool, Babs decided enough was enough and pulled to plug. They finally were divorced in 1935. Barbara would go on to become one of the most beloved and acclaimed actresses of her generation, and Fay's name would slowly disappear from the limelight. The sadistic nature of the relationship-- with the male as the dominating force-- could well have been one more bone in the spine of the Star story, especially as the inverted careers of the man and wife were the same as in the film.

Yet, there is even another story that could have served as source material: that of everyone's favorite flapper, Colleen Moore and producer husband John McCormick (together right). Colleen was an old-fashioned but ambitious young woman when she decided that acting was "the thing" for her. However, even as a youth, she was business savvy, and she understood that her atypical looks and somewhat boyish figure did not make her the symbol of female eroticism the guys usually went for. Still, there was something about her--including the fact that her eyes were two different colors--that caught the attention of John, who met her one night when the duo went dancing with Mickey Neilan and Blanche Sweet at the Sunset Inn. Not used to flattery and a wise little thing herself, the cynical Colleen merely raised an eyebrow when John asked her to marry him after three measly dances. But, before she knew it, she was head over heels as well, and the two were wed a mere day before her birthday. At first, life seemed grand. With John's support and her own ambitious spirit, Colleen's career started gaining steam, but as in the case of Babs and Frank, John's jealousy of her rising star and taste for alcohol impaired what had at first seemed a match made in heaven. Colleen kept the facts of her personal misery a secret for many years, never being one for gossip, but she did finally unleash the truth. John had been physically abusive, once nearly throwing her out a window, and finally-- when she told him she was going to leave him-- nearly choking her to death. His angry words, "You can't leave me. You're nothing without me! I made you a star!" would echo in her ears for years to come... and quite possibly in the script of Star. 

Mrs. Norman Maine ( Judy Garland) takes a hit from her alcoholic husband 

(James Mason) in 1954's A Star is Born.

One particular factor that ties the factual and fictitious versions together is a phone call that Colleen made while still married to John. At the time, Colleen's career was thriving, but she received word that her husband was about to be fired from their home studio. Though the marriage was troubled, Colleen was loyal. She called up top dog Richard Rowland and stated loud and clear, "This is Mrs. John McCormick. I just called to say 'hello." The message apparently was heard, and John's job was temporarily saved. The marriage was not, and Colleen finally left John and never looked back. History did, for in A Star is Born, the famous ending line uttered by the grieving widow/superstar, which she delivers to fans, is: "Hello, everybody. This is Mrs. Norman Maine." (Strangely, this is not dissimilar from Dorothy Reid's credit as Mrs. Wallace Reid in Human Wreckage...). Whether the tragic romance of Vicki Lester and Norman Maine was based in part on one or all of these tales is still uncertain. It is quite possible that the age old battle of the sexes and the conflicts that arise when gender roles are eclipsed (in her case) or failed (in his) are enough of a starting point for any good screenwriter. In any case, the elastic nature of the silver screen continues to give and take with its stories and its stars, giving audiences a little truth mixed with the fiction. As long as the material is good, the pond from which writers reel in ideas doesn't matter. Keep 'em comin'.

(A friend just tipped me off to the story of John Bowers as well, who may very well have been a significant source in the A Star is Born story).

HISTORY LESSON: Art Imitating LIfe

DIDJA KNOW: Didja Catch That?

This edition of "Didjas" includes a motley assortment of near misses. For one who is unaware, unobservant, or perhaps simply uninvested, these quick little ditties and bits of info may slip right past your nose, eyes, and ears. Perhaps now with a second look, you'll be able to catch them!

John Wayne, Monty Clift, and Walter Brennan in Red River: 

their belt buckles were about to be upgraded.

The film Red River turned out to be a triumph for everyone involved. Howard Hawks crafted one of our most perfect Westerns, John Wayne proved that he could act (and age) with great grace and conviction, and Montgomery Clift made an astounding cinematic debut. Hawks was so proud of the film and all those who took part in it that he gave the cast and crew members a piece of memorabilia: a belt buckle with the infamous cattle brand featured in the film-- which symbolized one of the plot's major sources of contention between the main characters. The design included a "D" for Thomas Dunson-- Wayne's character-- two wavy lines signifying the river, the words "Red River," the date, and the recipient's initials. But didja catch a sight of this belt onscreen? The Duke wore his belt-buckle on camera in several of his future movies, including Rio Bravo and El Dorado. Allegedly, in order to honor their professional and personal relationship, Duke wore the buckle in all of his later Hawks-directed films. It has been spied in his wardrobe in nine films total. If you squint, maybe you'll see it too.

A sample of the Red River Belt Buckle.

Duke had a habit of honoring those who had helped him in some way. Just as Hawks helped boost his career and earned him respect in the industry, idol Harry Carey had inspired and aided him in his early days as a prop boy and B-Western star. They would even appear in several films together and, in addition to Duke befriending Harry's wife Ollie Carey, he too would take his son, Harry Carey, Jr. under his wing and treat him like family. After Harry passed away in 1947, Duke was despondent and missed his friend and mentor terribly. He was too supportive of Ollie in her grief, which was still palpable when they began filming another classic, The Searchers, even ten years later. In this film, Duke would find a way to pay homage to his late, great friend. Didja catch that stance he does at the very end of the film? After Duke's Ethan Edwards returns niece Debbie (Natalie Wood) to the arms of the rest of her kin, he stands alone in the doorway, grabs his right elbow as he takes in the reunion, and slowly turns and saunters off (see left). This posture was reminiscent of Carey and wasn't even in the original script. While filming, Duke was going through the scene as rehearsed when he happened to glimpse Ollie standing behind the camera. Stopping to honor her late husband, he prolonged the already poignant moment by grabbing his arm as Carey would have done. Thus, as he completed one of the best Westerns ever made and sealed his place in time as America's favorite cowboy, he too gave tribute to one of the ghosts of its past. The moment brought tears to Ollie's eyes and to a great deal of fans' as well. (An interesting side note is that Duke, who had typically been imbibing the night before-- most probably with Ward Bond-- was incredibly hung over during the scene. Later, an equally touched Harry Carey, Jr. arranged to have a sign placed on Duke's hotel room door at Goulding's Lodge. It read: "In this room, John Wayne got drunk before he shot one of the most famous scenes in motion picture history").

 Keeping up with the frenetic pace and overlapping dialogue of Howard Hawks's His Gal Friday would give anyone a migraine-- albeit one that they would thoroughly enjoy. The film in its day was groundbreaking in portraying human speech the way it truly occurs-- with one person talking over another and interrupted thoughts cut off mid-sentence. This tactful style created a more believable atmosphere for the fast-talking reporters of the newspaper world, in which lead characters and divorcing spouses Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell battle with verbal spears (right). Russell and Grant, both British, pulled off the speedy American banter effortlessly and made Hollywood history in the process. People may not have understood everything they were hearing all the time, and some viewers certainly struggled with choosing which eclipsing voice to listen to, but box-office revenue proved that no one minded. Thrown into the mix was a reference that many may have missed. Didja catch that zinger Cary made to an ominous politician? He stated: "The last fellow who tried to threaten me was Archie Leach. He cut his own throat two weeks later." Archie Leach, of course, was Cary's born name. For those who noticed, it was yet another cherry on a rip-roaring, nearly indiscernible sundae. 

D.W. Griffith is notorious for his star-making relationships with his ingenues, but he also did a great deal for Wallace Reid. By casting the struggling artist in his controversial classic, Birth of a Nation, he ignited Wally's career, which was a bittersweet event for Wally, who would have preferred a career behind the camera. Nonetheless, audiences responded to him heartily-- mostly because the handsome actor appeared shirtless and consequently showed his brawn in an impressive fight sequence. But Wally's role as the savory Blacksmith was not his only contribution to the film. Didja catch those cameos by Jesus Christ? Well, it wasn't Jesus, it was Wally. It turns out that Wally performed in several of the tableaux Griffith had concocted featuring the Son of the King, though most them hit the cutting room floor. One such sequence featured Abraham Lincoln and Christ shipping the African slaves back to their native land. Another featured Jesus hanging from the cross-- the filming of which was very difficult on a shivering, scantily clad Wally. The crew continuously fed him brandy to keep him warm, and as a result he was so drunk when he was finally pulled down that he had to be carried off the set. Most of these images featuring Christ were considered too graphic and were cut after the Los Angeles premiere, but his superimposed image is still see at the film's end (left), which I am assuming is all Wallace Reid. (In addition: Didja catch those faces in Griffith's Intolerance? Many of Hollywood's elite, Wally included, made uncredited cameos in the Babylonian battle sequence. Some of the stars to take a piece of another controversial Griffith pie were Douglas Fairbanks, Seena Owen, Erich von Stroheim, King Vidor, Monte Blue, and Owen Moore. Most notoriously, Lillian Gish appears as the woman rocking her baby in the intermittent sequences bridging the film's four storylines together: "Out of the cradle, ceaselessly rocking").

Douglas Fairbanks (right) was Hollywood's favorite hero during his reign as the ultimate swashbuckler and carefree righter-of-wrongs. The films made at his summit, from The Three Musketeers to The Iron Mask, came to define and perhaps even create the cinematic epic. A physical dynamo and equally creative chap, he had a direct hand in pushing the envelope of filmic possibilities technically and artistically. By the time he made The Black Pirate, he was one of the biggest stars in the world, and he showed this by using his clout to implement the new color process into this film as well as staging one of cinema's most famous and thereafter oft-repeated stunts: his character slices through a ship's sails and slides down. But, another interesting moment happens amidst his outrageous actions of daring do. Didja catch that kiss? When Doug finally plants a wet one on his leading lady, the camera hones in on the embrace behind the girl's back, showing only the back of her head. In fact, it was not the movie's actress Billie Dove giving Doug a smackaroo-- it was his wife, Mary Pickford. Turns out she was on the lot shooting Sparrows and decided to stop by for the scene, not out of curiosity but jealousy. She insisted on being the woman Doug kissed, so director Albert Parker staged the scenario so that it could be done. Doug probably didn't mind, since he always loathed romantic sequences. He was always more comfortable working with a saber than with his lips.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was a phenomenon. The comedic performances of Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe in their roles as the feisty Dorothy Shaw and the deceptively dimwitted Lorelei Lee caused a sensation. The musical numbers, ridiculous plot, and show-stopping "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" sequence resulted in a bona fide hit, thanks again to this column's apparent savior-- director Howard Hawks. The costuming by Travilla was also something to behold, with lavish gowns that adorned two of cinema's favorite figures with great panache and sex appeal. One glorious gown barely made an appearance but remains a notorious piece of cinematic fashion history. Didja catch that gold dress? Marilyn wore it while dancing with Charles Coburn (Piggy) in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it aside. It is more memorable as being the dress that Marilyn wore in one of her most famous photos, where she lusciously entices the camera as only she could do (left). Yet, though she was the actress to make the gown famous, she was not the first to wear it. In truth, Ginger Rogers gave the glittering threads their debut when she wore the same gold lame gown previously in Dreamboat. Marilyn, with whom Ginger had become friendly while filming Monkey Business, happened to stop by the set of Dreamboat one day and saw the dress. She liked it and asked to wear it in Blondes, which is exactly what happened. Of course, Marilyn totally stole Ginger's thunder, and the latter lady is rarely given credit for debuting this piece of cinematic gold.

Ginger models a slightly more demure version of the dress in Dreamboat.

The dress where it is currently on display at Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

(The reflection of the girl to the right is me, not a ghost).

Keep your eyes peeled until next time!!!

DIDJA KNOW: Didja Catch That?

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'