Marilyn Monroe (24 page)

Shooting ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’ was relatively easy, and Marilyn always arrived on time and thoroughly prepared. Wearing no make-up, she rehearsed the scene as though her life depended on it: ‘She was concentrated and dedicated to her role,’ remembered Chakiris. It took three days to shoot and when they finally reached the end at 9 p.m. on the third day, dance director Jack Cole left almost straightaway in order to travel to New York. ‘He left without saying goodbye and when Marilyn found out he’d
gone, she ran off the stage to try and find him and thank him,’ said Chakiris.

Twenty-seven-year-old Gwen Verdon worked as assistant to Jack Cole, and her son, Jim Henaghan Jr, remembers: ‘Marilyn and Jane Russell were the stars but neither one could dance. Both had trouble moving to music and mom was given the job of changing that; in watching the movie one sees that she was more successful with Marilyn. At the time I would go to the studio now and then and always remember mom and Marilyn working very hard to get things just right for every shot.

‘The willingness to work that hard – and it was HARD – was my mom’s life motivation and the reason that she held Marilyn in such esteem. Marilyn had trouble remembering steps and moves from one day to the next, which was an ability not a substance problem, but never gave up or had tantrums or anything else but [always behaved in] a professional manner. All through her life my mom would not sit still for attacks on Marilyn’s lack of will. She was and remained very fond of her. Ms Russell fell into that category also; she worked very hard [but] her problem was she didn’t move in a sexy manner.’

Another person anxious to get the best from Marilyn was vocal coach Hal Schaefer, who had been assigned to help Jack Cole with Russell and Monroe’s musical numbers. Schaefer had worked with the likes of Betty Grable, and as such had a great reputation for work in his field, and Marilyn took to him and respected him immediately. However, Schaefer soon learnt that her dedication to lessons did not extend to punctuality. On the first day of training she showed up late: ‘The first thing I told her,’ remembered Schaefer, ‘was that she better not be late or I wouldn’t teach her, so she showed up on time after that.’ The two got straight down to work with the first lesson consisting of Schaefer telling his student to buy the album
Ella Fitzgerald sings George Gershwin.
‘Marilyn had heard of Ella but had never heard her songs. Marilyn had a problem with singing in tune, but everything else she did was wonderful. I told her to listen to this album because never had there been a singer more in
tune than Ella.’ This first lesson would lead to a life-long love for Ella’s music, which would eventually spill over to a love for the artist herself.

Ella later praised Marilyn for personally calling Charlie Morrison, owner of the Mocambo nightclub, to ask if Ella could play there. In return Marilyn promised that she would sit in the front row every night, which she did. Unfortunately, in the years since then it has been presumed that the reason Ella Fitzgerald had never previously been allowed to play Mocambo was because she was black. This is not true, as a variety of black entertainers had been booked there long before Ella, including Dorothy Dandridge in 1951 and Eartha Kitt in 1953. The truth is that while Charlie Morrison encouraged and applauded performers of all races in his club, he didn’t see Ella Fitzgerald as being glamorous enough to bring in the crowds. It would take Marilyn to change his mind, and once Ella had her foot in the door she successfully played at the Mocambo on a variety of occasions. ‘[Marilyn] was an unusual woman,’ Ella later remarked. ‘A little ahead of her times and she didn’t know it.’

Although Marilyn didn’t open up to many people on the set of
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,
she did confide to Hal Schaefer that she believed one day she might be a good actress. Unfortunately, she had no such confidence in her ability to be a good singer, and it was this that Schaefer had to work on above anything else: ‘The essence of singing is confidence because you don’t have any other instrument – no trumpet, violin, etc. I tried to get her to be more confident, as singing is no rocket science; it isn’t such a profound thing. I gave Marilyn help with her confidence and enjoyment of singing – I didn’t want her to feel that she had to prove herself.’

While most people on the set were intent on helping Marilyn, one constant presence caused problems with director Howard Hawks and choreographer Jack Cole. Drama coach Natasha Lytess may have wanted to help Marilyn, but in doing so seemed to cause stress to everyone around her: ‘One day Lytess was on the set,’ remembered George Chakiris. ‘Jack Cole was facing
Marilyn, talking to her; but behind him and unknown to him was Lytess. I think Cole must have been giving direction to Marilyn, but there was Lytess, shaking her head to Marilyn, in response to what Cole was saying. Jack had no idea what was going on. I think this showed a real sweetness in Marilyn, as she was being courteous to both Lytess and Cole – she was in the middle of the situation, being polite to both. I thought the way she handled it was very sweet.’

A reporter, on set during a scene where Jane Russell and Marilyn were reading through the ship’s passenger list, remembered watching Lytess looking as though she was ‘quietly having a stroke’, as she reflected every expression and word coming from Marilyn’s direction. The scene was shot three times before Hawks called ‘Cut’ and Lytess hurried over to Marilyn, dragging her away in order to lecture her on her performance.

Elliott Reid played Ernie Malone in the film, and he worked extensively with both Jane Russell and Marilyn. He remembered: ‘I thought she was lovely-looking, beautiful and charming. She was quiet and shy but we didn’t really get to know each other during the shoot because as soon as the scene was finished Marilyn would go to her dressing room to work with her drama coach.’

Once again her lateness became legendary on the set, but by now the other actors and actresses were becoming used to it, as Reid remembered: ‘She was often late – sometimes ten minutes or so, but not extreme; her lateness was well known and it was just how she was. She was charming and everyone understood her lateness and nobody got mad. There were no problems during the making of the film because she was so sweet; she was never aggressive – she just wanted to do her best.’

Jane Russell sympathized with the nerves that caused Marilyn to be late, and made a point of trotting past her dressing room in order to walk her to the set each day. This helped with her punctuality, but not her nerves, and she would visibly shake between scenes, as George Chakiris observed on the first day of shooting the ‘Diamonds’ number: ‘Marilyn was sitting on the round sofa
used during the song, and I noticed the muscles in her back quivering from nerves,’ he later recalled.

She may have been terrified but she was absolutely determined to do her best, and took to writing little notes to herself on her script such as ‘Know the lines, go over it intelligently.’ She was anxious to think about what was going on inside, rather than outside, as Chakiris remembered: ‘Marilyn would do the take, and if it was not right, the director would shout “Cut”. She would not go to her dressing room or a mirror; instead she would go back to her starting position and just wait for it all to start again. I never saw her look in a mirror.’

With the filming eventually finished, everyone went back to their normal lives, but the experience left many happy memories, as recalled by George Chakiris: ‘I am so glad that I got to be in the chorus, it was a wonderful thing to be behind Marilyn and Jack Cole. I was there and it was a wonderful, wonderful time. It was a feather in my cap!’

In February 1953 rumours circulated that
Niagara
was not doing as well at the box office as had been hoped. Meanwhile, Marilyn attended the Photoplay Awards dinner, dressed in the gold gown briefly glimpsed in
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
When she got up to receive her award, the audience yelled and shouted, and Jerry Lewis stood on a table to whistle. Marilyn, loving the attention she was receiving, gave it her all, and the result was electrifying; but one person not impressed was actress Joan Crawford, who couldn’t believe her eyes.

A few days later, according to Crawford, columnist Bob Thomas interviewed her and, afterwards, asked, ‘Don’t you think that dress Marilyn Monroe wore at the awards dinner was disgusting?’

Crawford presumed that the question was ‘off the record’ and answered, ‘It was like a burlesque show. Someone should make her see the light; she should be told that the public likes provocative feminine personalities; but it also likes to know that underneath it all the actresses are ladies.’

On 24 February, Marilyn appeared on Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis’s radio show, performing a short skit entitled ‘So Who
Needs Friends’, before picking up another award, this time for the
Redbook
award for Best Young Box Office Personality. She should have been happy, but on 3 March, when Bob Thomas published Crawford’s comments in his column, Marilyn was devastated. She couldn’t understand why Crawford had attacked her in such a way, and was unsure what to do when reporters from around the country kept ringing to ask for her comments.

Louella Parsons spoke to Marilyn and observed that she had been crying all night long, to such an extent that she sounded as though she had a bad cold. ‘I don’t believe Miss Crawford said those things about me,’ Marilyn told Parsons, before deciding that possibly she had been speaking impulsively, without thinking.

Meanwhile, Crawford herself was thoroughly embarrassed by the whole episode. She told Parsons, ‘I wish I could say I didn’t say those things but I did say them! I was not misquoted! But believe me, in the future I will think twice before I talk so openly.’ She started receiving scathing letters from Marilyn’s fans, and through Parsons released a statement apologizing to the actress but projecting her opinion that ‘for this thing to go on and on, as though someone has been murdered, is ridiculous.’

Marilyn too began receiving letters, albeit of a more positive nature than the ones Crawford was getting. GIs were bombarding her with support, and even Betty Grable, her idol and co-star on her next picture,
How to Marry a Millionaire,
took her to lunch in order to advise her to ‘Just keep on plugging’. Finally, Marilyn decided to draw a line under the whole sordid affair, declaring, ‘I’m beginning to look at it as a blessing in disguise. If it had never been printed, I might never have realized how many friends I have, even ones I have never met.’

Back in the summer of 1952 Marilyn had been concerned to discover that her mother, Gladys Baker, had unexpectedly turned up at Grace Goddard’s home. Unpredictable as usual, Gladys announced that she’d recently married a mysterious man called Colonel John Eley, who had turned out to be a bigamist. She
then told Grace that she had started divorce proceedings only for him to die before it was all complete, and then proceeded to move herself and her belongings into the Goddard home.

The entire family were so confused by her half-baked stories that many rumours swirled around for years, with some even believing that the mysterious Mr Eley was actually just a figment of Gladys’ overactive imagination. In truth, however, he most certainly did exist.

Born on 13 June 1889, John Stewart Eley was a retired Colonel in the Signal Corps and had lived in Los Angeles for six years before his death on 23 April 1952. Despite Gladys turning up at the Knebelkamp home to declare her intention to live with Eley in a tent, in reality they actually lived together at 10538 Santa Monica Boulevard. Eley had most certainly been married before though no records can be found to support Gladys’ claim that he was a bigamist. Indeed, when his obituary was printed in the 26 April edition of the
Los Angeles Times,
there were only two relatives mentioned: his sister Helen and his widow Gladys.

Whilst living with Grace Goddard, Gladys’ behaviour became so erratic that Grace started to note down the disturbing things she was saying. According to her notes, Gladys felt that she was now ‘confused’ because she had once taken an aspirin during her marriage to Eley; felt she was being punished because during prohibition she had taken a drink of liquor; kept a photo of Marilyn in her bedroom, but slept at the foot of her bed so she didn’t have to look at it; and had a fear of Catholics, thinking that they were out to harm her.

Grace had suffered from depression for many years, and soon became exhausted with her new lodger, particularly when Gladys started to accuse her of stealing or moving items that she herself had misplaced. Grace suffered a stroke, and Gladys ended up moving in with the Bolender family, who had looked after Norma Jeane all those years before. Mrs Bolender, who had never seen any of Marilyn’s movies, later recalled: ‘I talked to Norma Jeane on the phone when her mother was staying with
me. On the phone I said, “Norma Jeane why don’t you come to see me?” She said, “I always thought because I’m in the movies you might not like me anymore.” I said, “Because you’re in the movies don’t make any difference, you come to see me,” but she didn’t.’

Eventually Gladys took off to Florida in search of her daughter, Berniece, but was soon back in California, banging on the door of Grace and Doc Goddard in such a frenzy that the police were called. Gladys was admitted to the Metropolitan State Hospital and Grace was left with the unenviable task of travelling to 2713 Honolulu Ave, Los Angeles, to make arrangements for her to be placed permanently in Rockhaven Sanitarium.

Rockhaven was established in 1923 by a nurse called Agnes Richards, who wanted to improve the treatment of mentally ill women. Set in 3.5 acres of gardens, the establishment grew to include fourteen different buildings and housed around a hundred patients – or residents as the staff liked to call them.

On 9 February 1953, Gladys became a resident there, and on 1 March Marilyn sent a cheque to Grace for $851.04 to cover her mother’s expenses. It was to be the first of many cheques written to pay for her mother’s care, though Marilyn herself would have very little to do with Gladys’ day-to-day life at the institution.