by Anne Girard
“Go get dressed, why don’t you, Baby? Your mama and I will go into the kitchen and see what Marino got up to with my cup of coffee. Come on, Jean.”
Under the circumstances, Harlean felt compelled to eavesdrop. After all, it was her life hanging in the balance. She moved to the doorway beside the kitchen then slipped around the corner close enough to hear.
“All right, then,” she heard Jetty say in a far more terse tone than the one she’d heard only moments before. “What is all this nasty business about you trying to keep those two young lovebirds apart? Honestly, Jean, where’s that romantic young girl I so well remember?”
“She died the day I married Mont Clair Carpenter,” Jean snapped back, and Harlean could just picture her mother’s posture; rigid, unmovable, her expression as cold as her words. “Chuck McGrew isn’t any more capable of giving Harlean what she needs than Mont Clair was of me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him try.”
“Be reasonable, honey. Those kids love each other.”
“He doesn’t love her, Jetty. For God’s sake, he cut her off without a penny so that we had to sue him and that despicable family of his.”
“I’ve talked to him myself and he’s just not willing to give you and Marino any money if you won’t even let them see each other. You changed the phone number on him, Jean, just when they were getting somewhere.”
Harlean marveled at her mother’s silence following the comment. Jetty was the one person her mother couldn’t intimidate with her blustering and indignation.
“I did what I had to do to protect my baby,” Jean replied in a tone that had softened considerably. “If she goes back to that lout, it’ll be the end of her career. He’s as bad as her father in every respect! He has no dreams for her and certainly no vision.”
She rounded the corner and moved into the kitchen with tear-brightened eyes. “You’re wrong. Yes, he has his problems, but Chuck isn’t all bad. You can hate him all you want, but I don’t and I never will! And I don’t hate my father even though you worked so hard to keep me from him, too. There’s nobody I hate in this world. I love you with all of my heart, Mommie, but to tell you the truth, I’m not very fond of you at the moment!”
As the last words left her lips, the enormity and futility of this entire situation, on three hours of sleep, descended on Harlean. She felt something inside her snap like a twig, something as fragile as her innocence once had been. She turned away and as she did, she heard the last vestiges of their harsh exchange.
“Chuck has made her absolutely crazy. God, Jetty, I can’t handle her when she’s like this!” Jean raged.
“My dear girl, I love you like a daughter, but you can be as cruel as a she-devil when you want to be. Harlean is a grown woman now, not a baby, no matter what we call her. She needs love in her life besides yours. She needs her husband.”
“You have no idea what she needs. No one else does. I was there when she was so sick as a little girl that everyone swore she would die. But not me, I wouldn’t let that happen! She’s always been fragile since then, always needed me to worry after her and care for her! That image of her so desperately sick will never leave my mind, nor will my resolve to protect her—her heart and her health! It was me who brought her this far, me alone! Not you, not her father and certainly not Chuck McGrew. Right now, until she gets her head straightened out, the love and advice of her mother is all she needs and all she will get!”
Harlean watched her mother come storming out of the kitchen after that, and then troop toward her own bedroom to dress. By instinct, Harlean followed, but Jean slammed the door on her daughter as well as on any further discussion of the matter.
It was still an odd sensation being angry with her mother for the devotion she so long had felt for her. But it had been a blind kind of devotion. These past months, as Harlean had steadily begun to come into her own, she saw some of the controlling, horrifying things Jean had done for what they were. Forcing her to terminate her pregnancy, purposely leaving the Hesser photographs for Chuck to see in order to create a problem, and then secretly changing their telephone number, had all been designed to secure Jean’s place in Hollywood. Harlean was the conduit. Letting her daughter make any major decisions threatened that, and thus threatened Jean.
Harlean walked Aunt Jetty to the front door after that and, as they embraced, Harlean whispered to her. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s at my house, sweetie. I told him he could stay as long as he needs to for the two of you to figure out what’s next.”
“The studio has my day all planned out but tell him I’ll come tonight.”
Harlean knew that, after dinner, her mother and Marino would retire to their bedroom, giving her the freedom to sneak out and make the drive to Long Beach. She had no idea what would happen between them when she got there; she only knew she owed it to her heart, and her new sense of self, to find out.
“I have several interviews set up for you this morning, then a meeting with Max Factor about a potential endorsement, and a photo shoot over at the studio at two o’clock. Mr. Hughes wants to see you in his office after that.” Kay gripped her pen and clipboard as she dutifully detailed Harlean’s schedule. “We really should be going, Miss Harlow.”
“When we are alone like this if it’s not Jean, then it’s Mrs. McGrew, please,” Harlean snapped, not meaning to sound harsh but unable lately to help it.
She was stubbornly holding on to that part of herself, and would until the very end, if it came, even as Jean Harlow loomed over her more and more with each day.
Last night before finally surrendering to her bed in exhaustion, Harlean had gone to the jewelry box that sat on top of her carved walnut dresser. She had taken out the small, gold wedding band Chuck had once slipped onto her finger. Replacing it on her own hand, putting it back where it once was meant to be, softened her heart and it gave her the feeling of a small measure of control. She would keep it there, she decided, until the final moment of their marriage.
More determined than ever to decide on her own what she truly wanted, she dressed, feeling the many parts of herself beginning to converge. For a few hours, Harlean McGrew would need to remain a shadow behind Jean Harlow. The public wanted to meet the new star and hear what she had to say, and she intended to give them what they wanted.
* * *
The heady sensation of being in the spotlight had quickly been tempered by the realization that the press believed she and her image were one and the same. Platinum Blonde now preceded her wherever she went. While she had understood all along that her unique beauty had opened doors, she was well aware that it would not be enough to keep them open for long.
Harlean tried calmly to tell them that people were confusing her with her character. She kept each interview as upbeat as possible, explaining with her sunny smile that in her next picture she hoped to portray a woman with more depth, or take on a comedy role.
While she knew she shouldn’t have been, she was shocked by the brazen questions she was consistently asked about her personal life even after her patient explanations. All of it only reinforced her determination to be taken seriously as an actress. They would not triumph in the end, she would.
When the last photo shoot of the day was over, she could not get to Howard Hughes’s office fast enough. While he had called the meeting, Harlean had her own agenda. She needed to disassociate herself from Jean Harlow, at least for a few days, so she could dash out to Long Beach and see if she still had a marriage to fight for, or at least to gently close this important chapter of her life.
At first, Hughes’s secretary said she was late for their appointment and that now he wasn’t in, but then his voice from behind the closed door became too loud and animated to be denied. He was standing up behind his desk gazing out the window and arguing with Louis B. Mayer when Harlean pushed past the secretary and into th
e cluttered office.
“I’ll call you back, Louis,” he finally turned around and said. “Congratulations, Miss Harlow. This morning you woke up officially a movie star. How does it feel?”
Steeling herself, she moved forward so that only his cluttered desk was a barrier between them. She gripped the edge of it and leaned nearer. “Mr. Hughes, I need you to give me a few days off to see one last time if I can fix my marriage.”
It startled her that his response was a burst of laughter. “They said you had a sense of humor, kid, but that’s hilarious.”
“I’m dead serious, sir.”
“Then you’re mad as a hatter,” he volleyed with an incredulous sneer.
“But you don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand.” He shook his head. “Don’t go soft on me now, Harlow, after all I’ve invested in you. This is the big time, not some two-reeler. You and I are going to promote the hell out of this picture. Like it or not, you’re a star now and that comes with a wagonload of obligation.”
She fought to maintain her composure, and her conviction. After all, she had gotten Hal Roach to listen to reason. She wasn’t about to let this one go easily, either.
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying so hard to have this career and figure out my marriage, too. My husband is a good man, Mr. Hughes, and I know the timing is rotten but Chuck and I just need some time to talk things through.”
Something in her tone seemed to soften him more. She could feel her eyes fill. He walked around his desk, touched her shoulder and indicated with a nod that, for the first time in his office, she should take a seat. He drew a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her just as the tears began to fall.
“Life is full of choices, Harlow. It is for all of us.”
“I’m discovering that,” she said, dabbing her tears.
“Look, tell you what, kid, go for the two week press tour we’ve already organized. The dates are set, people are waiting. Use that time to really consider what you want. If you still want to save your marriage when you get back, I’ll pay for your hotel suite myself.”
“Deal,” she said because she knew there was really no other choice.
* * *
Decisions. Choices. They were like the reflection from mirrors in a fun house, not always what they seemed to be. Harlean was trying to meet the challenges of sudden fame and to be Jean Harlow, but the gentle girl inside of her, daughter and wife, still pushed forward wanting to be acknowledged and heard.
That night when she returned to Maple Drive she found the house in disarray. Her mother, Marino and an overwhelmed-looking Kay were loading boxes and placing them in the center of the living room. She was afraid to ask what was going on after the day she’d had.
“We’re so excited about the move that your mother and I wanted to get a head start with the packing,” Marino said as she set down her handbag and kicked off her heels beside the front door to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen nearby. “Your mother has enlisted a friend of yours to help since you’ll be leaving soon. Jean actually has a whole list of things for her to do.”
Harlean was struck by the revelation as she padded barefoot into the kitchen and saw her girlhood friend. Bobbe Brown glanced up as she held a stack of plates in her hands. She had grown into a pretty, honey-haired young woman with a slim shape, pencil-thin eyebrows, full cheeks and an endearing gap-toothed smile.
“What are you doing here?” Harlean smiled as she set down the dishes and they drew one another into a hardy embrace. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“I tried to phone you a few times—see if we might get together, but you’ve always been busy, especially these past few months.”
The girls had spoken here and there but they hadn’t seen one another since that first lunch date after her first trip to the casting office. “I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Harlean replied, meaning it. “But you’re here now.”
“The studio has already been receiving more fan mail for you than you have time to answer. They don’t want your image to suffer if you don’t respond while you’re out promoting the picture, so I’ve been hired to help,” she happily explained.
“Well, that’s great... Gosh, it’s good to see you here. I really can use my friends around me right now.”
There seemed an increasing number of things her mother had recently neglected to tell her. Nevertheless, she chose not to confront her now. She was gaining strength at choosing her battles, and at selecting the timing but there was too much else going on right now. Instead, Harlean planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek, appreciating the attempt to uncomplicate her life by bringing in reinforcements—today most of all.
She didn’t always like what it was that drove her mother, but she understood her motivation only too well. First and foremost, she wanted stardom for her—and lately Harlean had begun to want that more and more, too.
Harlean took an apple from a bowl near the sink, then leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Mommie, how did you know Mr. Hughes would have me traveling as soon as tomorrow? He only just told me about it this afternoon.”
“Oh, he and I spoke this morning,” Jean said blithely as she grabbed two frying pans and searched for an open box to pack them.
“Mr. Hughes phoned you?”
“Actually, Marino and I went into his office to see him when you were at that first interview with Kay.”
Harlean knew well enough how her mother’s mind worked, and to what lengths she was willing to go to turn her own dreams for her only child into reality, yet this stunned her. There was nothing Mother Jean would not do to thwart a reconciliation with Chuck.
Had Aunt Jetty betrayed her plan to go to Long Beach? Harlean couldn’t bear even to contemplate it. Besides that would have been impossible.
She thought now how little surprise Hughes had shown at her request for time off, as if he had been warned. Everything made sense now.
Her decision, moments ago, not to confront her mother was eclipsed by a new sense of ire.
“What did you have to speak to my boss about without me knowing?”
Her mother stopped and set down the pans as she shot Harlean a cold stare. It was one with which she was all too familiar. Jean could change so swiftly like that. Ironically, it was the one thing Jean and Chuck had in common. Her heart fluttered with anticipation of a coming storm.
“Are you questioning my actions on your behalf?” Jean asked in a tone of indignation.
Bobbe gave Harlean a wary sidelong glance, then silently she slipped from the kitchen.
When her question went unanswered, Jean exhaled an exaggerated sigh and pressed her lips into a thin line of disapproval before she continued. “You know perfectly well we have yet to hire you a manager, so in the interim, Marino and I are still having to take on work on your behalf. We went to see Mr. Hughes in our capacity as your management team.”
“What about Mr. Landau?”
“Now, Baby, Arthur is an agent, which is an entirely different thing,” she replied, and her voice suddenly dripped with condescension. It held the thought that Harlean had no ability to distinguish between the two without her mother’s guidance. She could see more clearly now that was the primary way she had kept the upper hand all this time.
“It’s just that, last night, Mr. Hughes didn’t say a word about me going so suddenly on a press tour,” she said suspiciously.
“I’m sure he had a few other things on his mind about that mammoth premiere without worrying about what he did or didn’t tell you. Whatever Howard Hughes sees fit to schedule for you, Baby, we all need to be grateful for it. There is good money to be had from a press tour. And think of the exposure!”
“I just thought I’d have a few days.”
Jean widened her gaze. Her blond eyebr
ows rose to sharp peaks. “A few days to do what exactly?”
As usual, Jean always seemed one step ahead of Harlean.
“I don’t know, to rest, I suppose. I haven’t really had time to catch my breath.”
Jean sighed. “Do you suppose Miss Clara Bow or Miss Mary Pickford whine or complain like that? They are stars, consummate professionals, and now you will need to be one, as well.” Her eyes blazed with new conviction. “We have been given a chance here millions of girls would kill for, so we are going to seize it together for all it’s worth.”
Harlean put the unbitten apple back in the bowl. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
“All right, well, anyway, Mr. Hughes said this one is only for two weeks. I suppose I can manage that.”
Her mother’s laugh was harsh. “My baby girl, this is only the beginning. The studio is putting together a three-month tour of theater houses and vaudeville stages all across the country to promote the picture after that. Mr. Hughes is very excited about getting you out there as the face of Hell’s Angels, and stirring up the crowds as it premieres in different cities. You are who everyone is dying to see. It’s all so terribly exciting.”
Harlean clenched her hands until she could feel her fingernails gouging her palms. The thought that it would always be a strenuous challenge like this to go up against her mother moved again as a shadow at the back of her mind. The reality of that was never far off.
But fame brought star power with it, and money could bring independence. She needed to keep that in mind, a murmuring voice inside of her said. She needed to earn money to pay the new exorbitant rent at the Club View Drive house that the Bellos wanted. Eventually, it just might allow her to gain enough of an upper hand to decide for herself, once and for all, what she did and didn’t want in her life.
She must keep playing the game to get there, and she knew it.
As her mother went back to packing, and Bobbe cautiously returned to the kitchen, Harlean slipped into the hallway to phone Aunt Jetty’s house. Right now it was imperative that Chuck know what was going on. More misunderstandings seemed intolerable at such a critical crossroads for them.