Marilyn Monroe

by Michelle Morgan

  Much of the film was made in the seaside resort of Monterey, California. One eyewitness was Nanciele Finnegan, who was seventeen at the time, and had a front-row seat when the film crew set up camp in her parent’s front yard. Several members of her family were involved in the production: her sister was filmed sitting on the front porch, petting a rabbit; her brother was shown rolling a large tyre down the driveway; and even the family car, a Model T Ford, was filmed for the huge sum of $50 per day. However, the most amusing contractual obligation was for Nanciele herself, who was paid NOT to appear on camera: ‘What a disappointment to have a contract to not appear in the film,’ she remembered. ‘Still, the money did help to ease the awkwardness involved in having to avoid using the doors or walking by the windows whenever the director yelled, “Action.”

  For most of the filming, Marilyn’s trailer was parked outside the Finnegan home, and this gave Nanciele an almost direct line to the actress, who enjoyed speaking with her: ‘I found her very sweet and approachable. Sometimes when waiting for filming to start she’d catch my eye and wink, other times we’d drink Coca-Colas and laugh.’ She also remembers being asked by the cast to join them for a catered meal, but whilst most of the cast were friendly and professional, she wasn’t so impressed with Barbara Stanwyck: ‘She was aloof and avoided the others – including other cast members as well as her fans. She definitely refused autographs. Marilyn made a point of being available to chat with fans and to sign autographs; I wondered at the time if Barbara was going through some personal crisis to appear so cold to both fans and co-workers.’

  Once Clash by Night was in the can, Marilyn returned to Fox and unsuccessfully auditioned for a part in a film called Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie, opposite David Wayne. More successful was a test she made for Night without Sleep, which she filmed after working on the part with Lytess for days on end. The test was so successful, in fact, that not even Darryl Zanuck could deny that she was good for the part of Nell, a psychotic babysitter, and he offered her the part.

  She was thrilled by the chance to do something different, and even decided to move back in with Lytess in order to work on her part at any time of the day or night. She also took to jogging around the back alleys in the early morning to keep herself fit, and began receiving fan mail – mostly from men proposing marriage. She started receiving titles such as ‘Miss Cheesecake’, ‘Miss Pin-up 1951’ and her personal favourite, ‘Miss Flamethrower’, while Stars and Stripes magazine voted her the GI’s favourite pin-up, confirmed by the huge amount of mail she was receiving from GIs every day. In order to answer them all, she employed the services of foster-mother Grace Goddard, and even took to sending photos at her own expense, as she felt the studio ones were too small. Fame was at last knocking on her door, and she was determined that her new fans would know how much they meant to her.

  When she won a Henrietta Award for best newcomer, Marilyn bought her first expensive evening gown – a red, low-cut, velvet gown which fitted tightly to her knees, before flaring out. It was designed by Oleg Cassini and Marilyn loved it, but when she attended the awards it caused a sensation, with many women declaring it offensive and too extreme. It was the first time her taste in clothes had been subjected to such harsh criticism, but it would not be the last. When she wore a strapless red silk taffeta gown to a party shortly afterwards, the press declared that it was proof she was utterly lacking in taste. Marilyn, however, was defiant. ‘I’m truly sorry, but I love the dress,’ she declared, whilst saying of the Henrietta Awards dress, ‘Frankly I love the gown and wish I had more occasions to wear it.’

  One day at the studio an executive stopped and berated her for wearing jeans and a T-shirt to work: ‘An actress should always look her best,’ he declared to the shocked actress. She was to get her own back on the many people who knocked her dress sense, however, when photographer Earl Theisen dressed her in a potato sack, proving once and for all that it didn’t matter what she wore, she would always look terrific. The fans loved it.

  While Marilyn’s admirers were learning more and more about the public aspect of her life, the very private details of her health were being well hidden and are still shrouded in mystery today. She continued to suffer badly with endometriosis and Natasha Lytess remembered occasions where Marilyn would literally stop dead and bend over in agony. Her heavy periods interfered with her modelling work, too, as former model and actress Annabelle Stanford remembers: ‘We were doing a shoot for Bernard of Hollywood in Palm Springs, and Marilyn was lying on her stomach next to the pool. I got my hair wet so the shoot was over for me, and as I walked towards the changing room, I noticed that Marilyn’s period had started all over her pale pink bathing costume. I casually dropped my towel over her bottom, then accompanied her to the bathroom where I helped her to rinse out her costume.’

  Although her medical records are sealed, the cheques she wrote in 1950 and 1951 hint at the level of her medical problems at the time: on 5 November 1950 and again on 15 November, cheques were written to a Dr Seligman for the amount of $40 each; then on 26 October 1951, a cheque was made out for the large sum of $200 to a Dr A. Gottsman. Finally, a cheque was written on 9 November 1951 to an unknown doctor, for the sum of $50. It is not possible to confirm what these treatments were for, but it is clear to say that her health was certainly an issue at the time.

  Meanwhile, on the advice of Lytess and actor Jack Palance, Marilyn began taking classes with renowned teacher, Michael Chekhov. It was her first introduction to the ‘Method’ acting technique, and it was this early influence that inspired her to look deeper at the process when she moved to New York in 1955.

  In public she was still stating that she didn’t mind people thinking of her as a dumb blonde – ‘It has never bothered me because I’ve always known I wasn’t’ – but in private it was driving her to distraction, and she confided to Chekhov that she was tired of fluffy parts with nothing to do or say. She also became upset when the teacher told her she kept getting those parts because of the sexual vibrations she gave off. ‘But I want to be an artist, not an erotic freak,’ she told him.

  Chekhov liked his young pupil but couldn’t help becoming more and more frustrated with her lateness and absenteeism in class. Finally, he suggested they stop meeting, after one late arrival too many, and Marilyn was devastated. She wrote him a note to ask him not to give up on her, explaining that she was only too aware of how much she tested his patience. Of course, the plea worked and Chekhov allowed her to come back to class, on the understanding that she would take her lessons more seriously, which she did, so much so in fact, that she once arrived at his home a day earlier than expected.

  By the time Night without Sleep began shooting in December 1951, it had been retitled Don’t Bother to Knock, and it was to give Marilyn her first starring role. It was completely removed from anything she had ever done before, with the story revolving around one night in a hotel where Marilyn’s character, Nell, is in charge of looking after a little girl. Over the course of the evening, the emotionally disturbed Nell becomes more and more fragile until finally she is completely derailed. Although it was very much Marilyn’s film, the studio were still intent on keeping the actress in her place. Asked later if she got on with her co-star, Richard Widmark, Marilyn retorted, ‘Dick Widmark? They never let me get anywhere near him.’

  Marilyn requested once again that Natasha Lytess be on the set, and bombarded Zanuck with letters, begging him to allow the coach to be with her, even going so far as to say that there was no way she could work without her there. Zanuck relented, but it was not a good call, as Lytess felt she had been put on the spot by Marilyn, and even worried that her job at the studio would be put at risk. She was proved right one day when Marilyn told director, Roy Ward Baker, that Lytess was the only person who could help her with a particular scene. The moment it was finished, he headed for the telephone and the coach found herself fired the very next day.

  According to Lytess, Marilyn ignored her calls for the
next few weeks, and she was left completely distraught. Finally, she took the dramatic decision to inform her student that if no help was given, she would do something to herself so that it would hit the headlines. Faced with this emotional blackmail, Marilyn finally helped her teacher, and Zanuck reinstated her.

  When Don’t Bother to Knock was finally released, it received mixed reviews. People were confused to see Marilyn in such a dramatic role, and fan Nanciele Finnegan remembered, ‘the intense shock I felt when I went to see it. I expected to see the chum I’d come to know, but recognized in the fragile psychotic portrayed there, that Marilyn was an Actress’. Nanciele is astute in her observation; even though the film was shocking at the time and Marilyn’s character not in the least bit likeable, there was no doubt that she could act.

  In late 1951, Marilyn began a friendship with business manager David March that was to affect her entire life. March initially got in touch with the actress when he was interested in signing her to his company Leslie and Tyson, but eventually a deep friendship was formed. The two began to talk regularly on the telephone, then started visiting each other, sitting beside the fire, sharing problems and putting the world to rights. Unfortunately, March could be quite outspoken at times, and during one particular chat he made the mistake of telling his new friend that she procrastinated too much. She did not appreciate this and her anger was explosive but thankfully brief; the two carried on with their friendship relatively unscathed, which is just as well, as 1952 would be a year of great challenge, both professionally and privately.

  Chapter 10

  The Past versus the Future

  In early 1952 Marilyn moved once again, this time into a home at 1121 Hilldale Avenue in West Hollywood. She had been moving around frequently since she left Aunt Ana’s home in 1947, and was beginning to tire of it: ‘I have a horror of signing leases,’ she said, although the waif inside her seemed unable to ever settle in one place. Sometimes she would relish the time she had on her own, filling her home with white flowers, lounging on the sofa reading books, and listening to records while grabbing a quick bite to eat. At other times the solitude of living alone got her down, and she would get in her car and drive to the beach or spend her evenings walking around the streets near her home, enjoying the anonymity of night, when all around her was still and quiet. It was also during times of loneliness that she would try her hand at poetry, a hobby she continued throughout her life. ‘My poems are kind of sad,’ she said, ‘but then so is life.’

  During 1952, she had small appearances in We’re Not Married, O. Henry’s Full House, and Monkey Business. The latter starred Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers, with Grant playing Doctor Fulton, a man who finds the elixir of youth. One of the other cast members was Bob Cornthwaite, who played Fulton’s assistant, Dr Zoldeck. He had worked with director Howard Hawks previously, and when Hawks specifically asked for him to be in the film, he was happy to oblige. Arriving several days after the start of production, Cornthwaite’s first encounter with Marilyn happened during a break in production when John Wayne and Gary Cooper were visiting the set: ‘Marilyn walked past and everyone was looking. Hawks turned to me and said, “I think that the overdeveloped quality in the little blonde girl is going to be funny.” I thought, “My God” because she was becoming quite a star and everyone was jumping around for her. But Hawks had hired her because he had to, not because he wanted to. He didn’t like her abilities and didn’t conceal it.’

  Meanwhile, Bob began to feel sorry for Marilyn, as it was obvious that some people on the set just didn’t understand her: ‘She was very likeable and also stubborn, which is what saw her through. Lots of people didn’t cotton on to her. She had the strength of a puppy dog that hadn’t been indulged and had been abused but would not give up. She was persistent and that stood her in good stead, but people just had to go along with what she was because she was not going to change – she was stubborn which was both her strength and her weakness. Working with Marilyn – there was a “blankness” – she was both aware and divorced from things, and sometimes I would wonder where her mind was at. I had grown a beard for my last role and Hawks had asked me to keep it on; one day Marilyn and I were waiting for our cue to do a scene and she stared at me, before finally saying, “It’s real isn’t it?” I didn’t know what to say to that!’

  Beards aside, Marilyn’s behaviour on set was starting to cause worry and concern. She was continually late, which Cornthwaite believes was a defence mechanism as there was just so much she didn’t know: ‘She was determined to hold on to her position but was afraid to be there,’ he remembered. ‘Marilyn was ambitious and didn’t want to spoil her chances of success but knew if she stuck to her guns and made demands, she might get away with it.’

  Even though she was regularly late on set, the cast and crew enjoyed watching the play between her, the actors and producer, Howard Hawks. There were also several humorous moments on set, not least of which was when the monkeys hired to appear in the film took a keen interest in the leading actor. Cornthwaite remembered: ‘The monkeys fell in love with Cary Grant and would leap across the set to give him cuddles. They hated Marilyn and would pinch her and pull her clothes, and she was flummoxed by it – she had had that behaviour from men, but not from monkeys!’

  Marilyn didn’t make many friends on set, and gave off the aura of a lost child who just couldn’t quite fit in. As Cornthwaite remembered: ‘Ginger Rogers and Cary Grant were both professionals and there was no overt behaviour towards Marilyn, but they didn’t particularly welcome her – she had a different level of professionalism. But what held it all together was Howard Hawks because he had such power. He was the producer and although there was meant to be another director, he was never there – it was always Hawks who directed as well as produced.’

  But not even Hawks could completely control Marilyn’s behaviour on set. She was extremely stubborn, which was her greatest strength but could also be her supreme weakness. ‘Perhaps she couldn’t help her behaviour,’ wonders Bob Cornthwaite. ‘She was so disturbed emotionally and psychologically and just couldn’t help it.’

  She was also feeling physically unwell, and suffered from persistent stomach aches, which led her to book an appointment to see a doctor at Cedars of Lebanon hospital on 1 March 1952. Cornthwaite recalled: ‘She kept saying she had appendicitis and couldn’t work and she had to shoot a scene with Cary Grant in the car, which was set for a particular day. Hawks called Zanuck in advance and said, “I don’t care if she has appendicitis. She can go to the hospital and I want her back on the set on that day and every day.” He had the prestige to do it.’

  The operation was delayed until the end of production, and Marilyn returned to the set in poor health and with something else on her mind – a blind date with baseball legend Joe DiMaggio.

  In 1951, Marilyn did a series of photos with the Chicago White Sox during spring training at Brookside Park in Pasadena, California. One of the players to pose with the starlet was Gus Zernial, who remembers Marilyn with great affection: ‘I was really attracted to her beauty but more than that. She was attractive both inside and out – a beautiful person to talk to and I also believe she had a lot more to offer than the way she was shown by Hollywood.’

  The result of these photos was that New York Yankee player Joe DiMaggio took an interest in the blonde in the shots, and when he found out that mutual friend David March could set up a blind date between them, he was more than happy to go along with it.

  On 8 March 1952, DiMaggio’s dream came true when March managed to persuade a reluctant Marilyn to go to the Villa Nova restaurant to meet the baseball star. She had no idea who he was, and had seriously thought about calling the whole thing off, worried that he would be a big-headed sports star with a huge ego and no personality. March accompanied DiMaggio and actress Peggy Rabe to the restaurant, in time for the 6.30 p.m. dinner, but Marilyn did not show.

  Almost two hours later, at 8.15 p.m., DiMaggio sat nervously drinking vermouth and t
earing a menu into tiny pieces, when she finally made her appearance, wearing a blue suit and a white, low-cut blouse. She was extremely happy to discover that DiMaggio was not the ego-driven sports star she had expected, and was actually a quiet individual, who seemed a little shy: ‘He came alone, and I came alone to an Italian restaurant, to meet a group of friends. But we left together – and ahead of everybody else,’ she later told reporter Aline Mosby.

  Marilyn drove DiMaggio back to the Knickerbocker Hotel, but politely refused his request for another date. However, shortly afterwards they enjoyed an evening at the beach, and on 17 March Marilyn watched Joe play baseball – the one and only time she saw him play.

  In order to decide whether or not to go out with DiMaggio, Marilyn started questioning her friends. One of the people she chose to contact was Bill Pursel, tracking him down thanks to his mother, who had happily given Marilyn his new phone number. By this time Bill was a married man living in Las Vegas and Marilyn was a fond but distant memory. ‘This was the first call I had had since we had parted in 1950,’ recalled Bill.

  ‘She said she was ringing to tell me about a guy she had just met who I would probably have heard of. She was having some fun with me, giving me clues such as he’s a retired baseball player; he played for my favourite team the Yankees etc. We went back and forth until finally I guessed she was talking about DiMaggio and she told me she’d met him at a party a few nights before. “Do you want to date him?” I asked, and she replied, “I don’t know – that’s why I called you.” She then asked me questions about DiMaggio including whether or not I knew him. I told her I didn’t, but that he was an idol of mine, and she then changed the subject, asking me if I ever visited Los Angeles and saying she knew that I’d got married. “Is she pretty?” she asked. “Yes, she’s very pretty,” I said, and she immediately changed the subject back to Joe. I told her he was a quiet type who would probably be very good for her. Looking back I guess I didn’t give her the right info; I hadn’t known at that time that he had a jealous nature.’