On their first date Natalie had discovered that twenty-one-year-old Presley (who had just completed his first Hollywood movie, Love Me Tender) was personally very shy. In Memphis he seemed even more unlike his performing self, and many years later she told her friend (and stepdaughter) Sarah Gregson that “going out with Elvis was like going out on a high-school date. He took me to ice-cream parlors and we drank sodas.”
Elvis’s mother, no less possessive than Maria, believed that Natalie was a schemer who hoped to “snare” him for publicity purposes; and Gladys Presley assigned her a bedroom as far away from Elvis’s as possible, in the opposite wing of the mansion, while her own room, halfway between the two wings, became a strategic lookout point.
“I’m sure my girl is not seriously involved,” Maria (who was seriously worried) told a reporter. In fact, neither Star Mother had cause for alarm, and although a week with Elvis in Memphis was exciting in prospect, it failed to measure up in reality. Indoors, Gladys played guard dog to her son day and night, and outdoors he seemed content to take Natalie for rides on his motorcycle and wave to fans. On the third day, Natalie invented an urgent reason for returning to Los Angeles, where she assured Maria that “nothing happened,” then braced herself for Louella Parsons, who demanded and got an interview on the Elvis situation.
Parsons began by reminding Natalie that she’d “taken her to task” more than once for “cheapening herself with all this romance activity with Nick Adams, Tab Hunter, Raymond Burr and heaven knows who else.” Apparently forgetting that only a few weeks earlier she’d described Scott Marlowe as “the great love of Natalie’s life,” the columnist wanted to know if the romance with Elvis was “serious.”
“Not right now,” was Natalie’s cool answer. “But who knows what will happen?”
By this time Natalie had learned an important lesson in handling the press. Titillating curiosity without satisfying it was always more effective than the standard denial of “We’re just good friends.” As for the charge of cheapening herself, it was Parsons who’d cheapened Natalie by constantly trumpeting the news of her “romance activity” at the request of studio publicists. But the young old hand knew better than to point this out.
“Miss Parsons,” she said instead, “naturally I meet other young actors around the studios. If we go out to dinner or a premiere, the photographers take our picture, and the first thing I know I’m having a romance with my escort.” By pretending to take Parsons seriously, she let both of them off the hook, and enabled the columnist to deny all the silly rumors about “my dear young friend” without admitting that she’d been the first to spread them. “Natalie dropped by my house,” Parsons concluded the interview, “and spoke up spunkily in her own defense.”
But a week later she was reviving the old rumor as well as spreading a new one. Hundreds of Natalie’s fans, Parsons reported, were writing her and calling her names because they feared she might marry Elvis Presley, while the eighteen-year-old star was secretly dating forty-two-year-old actor John Ireland.
IN VIEW OF NATALIE’S ambition to become a serious actress, it was ironic that while promoting a movie she despised, she made an important career move without realizing it. Norman Brokaw, then a junior agent at William Morris, had seen her ice-skating performance with Tab Hunter on The Perry Como Show and was struck by the vivid personality of “this beautiful girl,” whom he remembered as a pretty but rather ordinary adolescent in Pride of the Family. (Apparently he hadn’t seen Rebel Without a Cause.) Brokaw contacted Maria, and after the stories he’d heard about her imperious attitude toward Natalie’s agents in the past, found her not at all the kind of person he expected. “I never had any problems with her,” he recalled. “She liked and respected me.”
Naturally, Maria knew when she was on to a good thing, and the situation called for the “con artist’s” best show of charm. Eager, successful and important, Brokaw was of great potential value to her daughter’s career; and on the personal level, the Russian connection was an additional point in his favor.
In 1898, the Haidabura troupe had been the first Russian dancers to arrive in the United States. A family affair, consisting of Nicholas and his wife, three sons and three daughters, the troupe toured the vaudeville circuit for many years. By the time Nicholas retired and the troupe dissolved, he’d changed the Russian-Jewish family name to Hyde. One of his sons married Brokaw’s mother. Another, known as Johnny, became an agent who briefly represented the very young Marilyn Monroe and in 1943 had steered his fifteen-year-old nephew to his first job as a mailroom clerk at William Morris. Five years later Brokaw, who took his mother’s maiden name, had risen to the rank of junior agent; and by 1956 he was able to impress Maria by dropping the names of the agency’s most illustrious female clients: Barbara Stanwyck, Susan Hayward, Kim Novak, Loretta Young—none of them perhaps quite as dazzling as Lana Turner, but bright enough to light a few stars in Maria’s eyes.
With Natalie about to start another contract movie at Warners, Brokaw could do nothing for her at first. But a daughter represented by the William Morris Agency had obviously risen in value, and could do something for Maria. The ever-developing businesswoman’s hand is apparent in a memo from Jack Warner to Steve Trilling, dated November 20: “Talk to me today about lending Natalie Wood the money for the house. I believe it will be good business if we do so. We will do it direct with Natalie and her Mother, and we will make the best arrangements we can on the repayment.”
It was good business for the studio, of course, because Warners increased its power over Natalie by putting her in its debt; and Trilling saw the point so quickly that he arranged for Natalie and her mother to discuss it with a studio lawyer that afternoon. The non-negotiable price for 3331 Laurel Canyon Boulevard was $12,500, and the owner accepted Trilling’s offer of “$3,000 advance with our guaranteeing the $9,500 payment later.” This made Natalie little more than the new owner in name only, burdened with a $12,500 debt for a house that was large enough to provide her and her mother, father and sister with separate bedrooms. Constructed only a few years earlier of stucco trimmed with volcanic rock, its ranch-style layout at least allowed Natalie to occupy her own private bedroom suite, with an entrance leading to the pool area, where a tiled mermaid perpetually smiled from the depths.
IN THE SECOND WEEK of December, Natalie started work on Bombers B–52, a studio potboiler directed by another studio workhorse, Gordon Douglas. Although the credits announced “Starring Natalie Wood,” her part was relatively small, and although the movie was supposed to be her third with Tab Hunter, he turned the part down, went on suspension, and was replaced by the less congenial Efrem Zimbalist Jr.
Fortunately, Natalie developed a personal rapport with Karl Malden, who in fact had the most important role, as a sergeant engineer in the U.S. Air Force, “proud of a job that keeps U.S. bombers up in the air.” When his daughter falls in love with his superior officer, Malden objects, and Natalie accuses him of being jealous because Zimbalist is a younger and more important man. All ends well, of course, and there’s a gung-ho Cold War subtext to the formula junk; but as its America-needs-to-be-prepared spokesman, Malden gives a disturbingly authentic performance.
The scenes with Malden allow Natalie’s performance to catch fire, partly because they’re the most dramatic in the movie and parental discord was once again a stimulant, partly because she’s playing opposite an actor she likes and admires. Their rapport, as Malden recalled, was mutual: “The boys hung around Natalie all the time. I used to kid her about it. But she always came prepared, unlike most of the young contract stars at Warners, and she worked very hard as well as having fun. We both liked the confrontational scene when she came home late from a date, and really worked at it.”
Hollywood, 1957. Natalie, age nineteen, with Nick Gurdin (illustration credit 3.11)
Also under long-term contract to Warners, Malden was “grateful” when they eventually let him go, but grateful for the experience as well. “It was a test
, and only real professionals passed it. I feel it must have been the same for Natalie, in spite of all the frustrations.”
Before they met, Natalie knew that Malden had worked with Kazan in both theater and movies, and was particularly impressed that he’d played Mitch in the original production of A Streetcar Named Desire and won an Oscar for his performance in the film version. She first saw the movie in a screening room at Warners with Dennis Hopper, after hearing Nick Ray, James Dean and Dennis talk about Kazan; and during her years under contract to the studio she screened it several more times, to remind herself that there was life beyond A Cry in the Night and The Burning Hills, to admire the direction and acting, and simply to watch Vivien Leigh, who fascinated her above all other movie actresses.
On a personal level, Natalie was only moderately curious about other actresses, but after we became friends she asked many questions about Vivien. She was fascinated to learn that they shared a “wrist problem,” as Vivien thought her wrists too thick and usually wore bracelets or long sleeves to conceal them. Natalie seemed to find every detail important, from Vivien’s favorite couturier to her favorite role.
The extent of Natalie’s curiosity suggested some kind of personal identification, to an extent that became apparent only after both lives had ended too sadly too soon. Although Vivien’s life was the higher-wire act, they had the same delicate balance in common: unhealed wounds and undying humor, surface poise and subterranean disorder. Vivien’s favorite theater role was Marguerite in The Lady of the Camellias, and Natalie’s first theater role would have been as Anastasia: feverish romantics, ultimately, both of them, living in a climate too cool for their kind.
NATALIE’S FIRST encounter with Robert Wagner, deeply romantic on her side, took place in the spring of 1949 and was over almost before it began. Neither spoke to the other, and the nineteen-year-old actor, who had just signed a contract at Fox, was unaware of the impression he made on the child star in pigtails. Natalie, who was filming Father Was a Fullback at the same studio, recalled later that they were walking along the same hallway in the administrative building. “He was going in one direction, I was going the opposite way. As we passed, I looked up at him, he smiled at me and naturally I smiled back.” Then she stopped and stared after him. Wagner didn’t turn back, but there was no emotional turning back for Natalie: “At age ten, crushes can be very vivid.”
Maria the fabulist, who was with her daughter at the time, claimed later that Natalie turned to her and said, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” In fact, Natalie told Mary Sale, who was on the set of Father Was a Fullback that day, that she’d fallen in love with an incredibly handsome and charming man, but had no idea who he was.
After working as an extra for a year, Wagner had recently made his first movie, playing a baseball catcher in The Happy Years, directed by William Wellman, a friend of his father’s. But as Wagner wore a mask over his face, and the role was almost as brief as his first encounter with Natalie, it led nowhere. A few weeks later, though, Famous Artists agent Henry Willson was at dinner in the Beverly Hills Gourmet when RJ (as everyone called Robert John Wagner) began singing a popular hit, “About That Girl,” a capella with a group of friends. He noted RJ’s good looks and high spirits and asked him to call his office at Famous Artists for an appointment. RJ did so, signed with the agency, and soon afterward made a successful screen test at Fox.
Although RJ was aware of Willson’s reputation as a sexual predator, it never bothered him, especially as two other Famous Artists agents, Charles Feldman and Ray Stark, managed his career from the start. But Willson had “discovered” him, and the usual rumors began to circulate: “Over the years, I’ve been linked sexually with Jeffrey Hunter, Burt Lancaster, Dan Dailey, Clifton Webb and, my God, even Clark Gable.” He could shrug the rumors off because he felt secure about his own sexuality, and like Natalie had many gay friends throughout his life.
Their second encounter took place in June 1956, almost seven years after she’d cut out his photo from a fan magazine and tacked it to her bedroom wall; and by then his fan mail at the studio was second only to Marilyn Monroe’s. They were formally introduced at a star-studded fashion show at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, and a photographer asked them to pose together for a few pictures. Natalie had just started filming The Girl He Left Behind, and she thought RJ must have noticed that she’d grown up since their first encounter. But if he did, he gave no sign; and that, she supposed, was that.
A month later, when Natalie had almost decided to remove RJ’s picture from her bedroom wall, he called to invite her to a screening of his latest movie, The Mountain. The date of the screening was July 20, which he didn’t know was her birthday. At dinner together afterward, Natalie found him not only more physically seductive than ever, but thoughtful, witty and a brilliant movie-star mimic, whose Cary Grant imitation was the high point of his repertory.
Although many people commented that RJ had the same kind of relaxed, sophisticated, man-about-town humor and charm as Grant, no one was yet aware that they also had a dark side in common. The older star had already revealed it in life as well as in several movies, notably Suspicion and Notorious. The younger would soon give an unexpectedly chilling performance in A Kiss Before Dying. But while his personal dark side was not yet apparent to Natalie, or even to RJ himself, there was a deep mutual attraction that at first unnerved both of them.
In RJ’s case, he was a popular bachelor, much in demand socially and otherwise, whose only serious affair, with Barbara Stanwyck (they met in 1953, on the set of Titanic), had ended painfully. It left him unprepared to risk another, and was partly responsible for a bet he made with his father, that he wouldn’t consider marriage until he was thirty. The day after his first evening with Natalie, he sent her flowers, then called to say how much he’d enjoyed seeing her, and ended the conversation with a casual “I’ll see you again sometime.” Over the next five months, Natalie recalled, “every time the phone rang I would say, ‘Well, this time it’s RJ,’ but it never was.” Finally they met by accident at a CBS awards ceremony, and “casually, as if we’d talked the night before,” RJ invited her to join him for lunch the next day at the studio.
They agreed to meet at noon. She arrived at three and found him still waiting for her. She apologized. He astonished her by not being angry. Or was he only pretending not to be angry? And although Natalie later insisted that she hadn’t intended to keep RJ waiting, maybe she had. In any case, he asked her to dinner the following night, December 6, a date that became significant in both their lives. It produced the first entry in an occasional journal that Natalie began the next day: “Our first serious date.”
Over the next three months they continued to meet and make love, but there were still barriers. Unlike Natalie, RJ came from a well-heeled family. Robert Wagner Sr., a steel executive in Detroit, became the company’s West Coast representative when RJ was nine. The family moved to La Jolla, near San Diego, and although Wagner Sr. wanted his son to enter the steel business, RJ was determined to become a movie actor. At first Wagner Sr. objected strongly. He didn’t disapprove of acting as a profession—in fact he was friendly with several actors and directors in the movie industry—but an only son was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps. Finally Wagner Sr. relented and introduced him to William Wellman.
Not surprisingly, RJ soon felt “alien” to what he called “Natalie’s group—Nick Ray, Dennis Hopper, Scott Marlowe. My friends were Bogart, Bacall and Spencer Tracy, and later, because of Tracy, Katharine Hepburn. I was eight years older than Natalie, and more successful, but to her group Prince Valiant was a joke. I found this frustrating.” Prince Valiant was the absurd and absurdly popular movie that had made RJ a star; but although the Actors Studio way was not the way of RJ or his friends, he was serious about an acting career. Tracy had recognized his potential when they first appeared together in Broken Lance (1954); and two years later he persuaded Darryl Zanuck to cast RJ as his young brother in The Mounta
in.
Natasha Zepaloff at age seventeen: graduation picture (illustration credit 3.12)
Natalie, age seventeen, with Nicky Hilton (illustration credit 3.13)
From his family situation and Wagner Sr.’s connections, RJ had acquired a sense of security that Tracy’s friendship and encouragement naturally reinforced. From her family situation Natalie had acquired a chronic sense of insecurity, and the closer she felt to somebody, the stronger her fear of betrayal. And although RJ could forgive her for arriving three hours late for a lunch date, she later did something that at the time he couldn’t pretend to forgive.
One evening after they’d had dinner, she asked him to drive her to the Chateau Marmont. “Scott’s staying there now,” she explained. “I want to see Scott.” RJ knew they’d had an affair, but didn’t know how serious or how casual, or that Marlowe was gay. “I was so furious, I dumped her, and didn’t see her again for a while.”
During that while, Natalie stopped seeing Marlowe and began an affair with Nicky Hilton, son of hotel magnate Conrad Hilton and stepson of his former wife, Zsa Zsa Gabor. Fatally rich and handsome, Nicky Hilton had been briefly married to Elizabeth Taylor, and was a lord if not a prince of darkness, endowed with equal parts of charm, sexual expertise and cruelty. The practicing Catholic kept a rosary, a handgun and pornographic books on his bedside table, and according to Taylor, became physically abusive when drunk.
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