***
One day, Lana abruptly ended her affair with Rooney. “It’s been great,” she told him. “You’re a lot of fun. But it’s time to move on.”
He later revealed, “At the time, I thought she’d outgrown me and wanted other guys like Greg Bautzer. But months later, at a fund raiser, I ran into her, and she told me the truth.”
“Do you know you put me in a family way?” she asked, referring in modest terms to her pregnancy.
“I was stunned,” Rooney said. “She never told me at the time. Had she done so, I might have insisted she have our kid. Of course, aborting the child made sense. It protected our careers and, besides, we were just children ourselves.”
He later learned that Eddie Mannix, known as “The Fixer” at MGM, had arranged for Lana’s abortion through the studio doctor, Edward Jones. Previously, Mannix had warned Mayer that Rooney was “a loaded gun ready to go off.”
“Eddie worked in publicity for the studio,” Mervyn LeRoy said. “Most of his job involved suppressing scandal. He even covered up crimes such as murder. He kept the secrets of the stars, even protecting our beloved but pregnant Lana.”
Howard Strickling, one of the directors of MGM’s Publicity Department, said, “Our job was to publicize our new stars. But both Lana and Mickey were their own self-generating publicity machine. As time went by, our main job with them was to keep their names out of the gossip columns.”
In 1991, when Rooney published his autobiography, Life Is Too Short, he revealed for the first time that Lana had aborted their child many decades before. She was furious, and at one point called her lawyer to suggest a lawsuit for libel. He wisely advised her not to sue.
When Rooney heard of her denial, he said, “Of course, she denied it. Why not? I would expect no less of her. But I stand by my story.”
“All I can say is that if it didn’t happen, it was the most beautiful, the most realistic, dream I ever had. MGM gals in those days were taught to deny any scandals.”
***
One night, Errol Flynn phoned Lana, finding her at home for a change and not out night-clubbing. He told her he’d been cast in the most exciting role of his career, and that his new film included “the greatest role for a young woman I’ve ever read.”
“I can just see us on the marquee, “Errol Flynn as Rhett Butler and Lana Turner as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind.”
The characters were the creation of the genteel Southern novelist Margaret Mitchell, who had written Gone With the Wind. Published in 1936, and set in Georgia during the American Civil War and its Reconstruction Era, it became a million copy bestseller.
Confronted with that kind of temptation, Lana quickly acquiesced. After climbing into her red roadster, she drove to Flynn’s home on a mountainside to read two or three scenes with him that he’d selected from the novel.
Of the many photographs snapped of Errol Flynn, dressed or undressed, this snapshot was his favorite. He had only one complaint: “It doesn’t show my most celebrated asset.
Lana found out what that was when they had “rehearsals” together for the rape scene depicted in Gone With the Wind
During the first hour, Flynn carried through with his promise, reading scenes with her from the book. He told her that not only would Rhett Butler be his greatest role, but that if she got cast as Scarlett, it might be the apex of her career, with perhaps a Best Actress Oscar looming in her future. “The role could immortalize you and make you one of the biggest stars in Hollywood.”
It was long past midnight when he launched into a pivotal scene in which Rhett Butler takes Scarlett in his arms and carries her to the bedroom, perhaps to rape her if she refuses his advances. Whereas, based on the censorship standards of that era, the actual seduction scene could not be filmed, Scarlett would be depicted the next morning waking up fully relaxed and with a satisfied smile.
“Let’s go for it,” she said, perhaps surprising him with her directness.
Consequently, he hauled her off to a large bed, suitable for an orgy with six or seven participants, the scene of at least a thousand prior conquests.
As Lana later described to Linda Darnell, Flynn, living up to his reputation, turned out to be a talented, virile lover. He’d seduced her before, beside his swimming pool and on Catalina. The difference this time was that he rubbed cocaine on the tip of his penis.
According to Lana, as filtered later through Darnell, “If I had any complaint at all, it was that Errol, in the heat of passion, likes to exchange a lot of saliva.”
Evoking the heroine in Mitchell’s novel, Lana woke up the next morning, alone in Flynn’s bed, with a smile on her face. He had truly satisfied her.
Donning one of his terrycloth bathrobes, she wandered down to his pool where she found him swimming nude. Dropping the robe, she dived in with him. “We made love underwater,” she later informed Joan Blondell.
Nearly two years would pass before Lana learned that while Errol was making love to her, their interchanges were observed by his two “fuck buddies,” David Niven and Bruce Cabot. In his bedroom, he had installed a two-way mirror, and they were silently positioned within the darkened space on the other side.
***
The next day, Lana began to read Margaret Mitchell’s saga. “As I read and read, I had a hard time seeing myself as a drapery-wearing, Yankee soldier killer, and ‘fiddle-dee-dee’ type of bitchy Southern heroine.”
She was even more put off when she read Time magazine’s assessment of what kind of actress was needed to play Scarlett. “She has to be tempestuous, intense, scheming, and case hardened, with diamond dust in her voice, bug eyes lit with cold blue glitter, and as wide a dramatic range as any cinema-actress in the business.”
“That might be Bette Davis, but not me,” Lana said.
That afternoon, Lana read in Louella Parsons’ column that Jack Warner wanted Davis and Errol Flynn for the roles. “That devil tricked me,” she told Blondell, who had made The Perfect Specimen (1937) with Flynn. “He knew I wasn’t even being considered.”
“But if he’d called you over without that temptation of a role, you would have gone anyway, right?”
“I hate to admit it, but it’s true,” Lana said. “Day or night, rain or shine, when Errol calls, Lana will come running.”
In the weeks ahead, she followed news associated with Gone With the Wind. Jack Warner had allowed his option to lapse, and subsequently, producer David O. Selznick had picked up the film rights from Mitchell for only $50,000.
Gable was hauling in 2,400 fan letters a week, and most of his women fans demanded that Selznick cast him as Rhett Butler. Louis B. Mayer, Selznick’s father-in-law, at least for the moment, had rejected any immediate and direct involvement with Gone With the Wind. “I don’t think the public will flock to see a picture about the Civil War.” But with the book’s massive sales, he changed his mind.
Warner seemed upset that he’d let his option lapse. In an attempt to at least benefit in some way from the growing buzz about the film, he offered Selznick a package of two of his biggest stars, Davis and Flynn. As pre-released buzz increased, Mayer reminded Selznick that the public was demanding Gable for the role. “I’ll give you Gable if you’ll give me distribution rights.”
Selznick already had a deal with United Artists to distribute his films, so, after rejecting Mayer’s distribution proposal, he contacted Samuel Goldwyn and asked him if he could spare Gary Cooper for the role of Rhett Butler.
Although every actor or actress under the age of 40 in Hollywood seemed desperate for the lead roles, Cooper wasn’t impressed. He didn’t want to play Rhett Butler. Subsequently, he sent a memo to Selznick. “I think Gone With the Wind will be the biggest flop in the history of Hollywood. I’m just glad it’ll be Clark Gable who’s falling flat on his face—and not Gary Cooper.”
As the world knows, Gable as Rhett Butler and Lana as Scarlett O’Hara never got to co-star in Gone With the Wind.
This photo, taken on
the set of their 1941 movie, Honky Tonk, showed what they might have looked like as Rhett and Scarlett.
Eventually, Selznick got Gable to sign on the dotted line, only to learn that his lover, Carole Lombard, had her heart set on playing Scarlett.
The producer decided to launch the greatest talent search in the history of Hollywood for the perfect newcomer who could play Mitchell’s heroine.
The nationwide search to play Scarlett led to some 1,400 wannabee actresses, most of them Southern, to be interviewed. He found none of them suitable, but enjoyed the national publicity his stunt provided.
After searching for young women across the country to play Scarlett, he turned to established actresses. He was receiving dozens of letters demanding that he award the role to Tallulah Bankhead, a true Southern belle from Alabama.
George Cukor, named as the director of the picture, was a friend of Tallulah’s. He made three tests of her as Scarlett, the first two in black and white, the latter in Technicolor. “In color, Tallulah looked a fright,” he said.
The choices narrowed. Among the finalists was Paulette Goddard. Selznick considered her ideal in many ways, but he didn’t want any scandal connected to his multi-million dollar picture. Goddard was living with Charlie Chaplin at the time and claiming to be his wife. Selznick demanded that she produce a marriage license, and she failed to do so. Consequently, he did not award her with the part.
Almost as an afterthought, Lana was ordered by MGM to make a screen test, with the understanding that it would be directed by Cukor, who had been named director of Gone With the Wind. He would later be fired.
Lana had already portrayed a Southern girl in her debut movie, They Won’t Forget, but that hardly meant that she would be suitable for the role of Scarlett. Nevertheless, she bravely moved forward with the test.
She met Melvyn Douglas, who had agreed to a screen test in which he’d portray Ashley Wilkes, a part he coveted. With Lana, he wanted to show Cukor that he would be the ideal Ashley, knowing that the British actor, Leslie Howard, was also under consideration, although he didn’t seem to want the role.
In this rare photograph, Lana is seen trying to perform as Scarlett O’Hara opposite veteran actor Melvyn Douglas. George Cukor tested her for the role, with Douglas hoping to co-star as Ashley Wilkes.
“The test was dismal,” Cukor said. “Lana was no Scarlett, and she knew it.”
“Lana had none of the fire and intensity of Scarlett,” Cukor said, after directing Douglas and her. “This cute blonde from Idaho had a horribly fake Southern accent, and there was absolutely no chemistry between Douglas and her.”
Selznick viewed Lana’s test and agreed with Cukor. As later stated in one of his many memos: “Miss Turner has absolutely no conception of who Scarlett O’Hara is.”
***
“Lana, dear,” came the screen-familiar voice of Joan Crawford. “I’m extending a sudden invitation for a tête-á-tête for you and me at my home in Brentwood. Would you drive over to see me? I have something very important to discuss with you. It’s very personal.”
Lana agreed and after transforming her face with makeup and slipping on her most expensive and stylish day dress, she got into her roadster and drove to Crawford’s immaculate house, a building as well-groomed as its occupant.
Like herself, Crawford preferred an all-white living room. “Please take off your shoes, darling,” she told Lana. “The carpet is snow white, and shoes are just too dirty.”
Then she fussed over Lana, making sure she was totally comfortable before bringing her a cup of tea and just one small cookie on a pink napkin embroidered with the initials “JC.”
“Now let’s get down to business,” Crawford said after they’d sipped their tea. “You know I’m just a tiny bit older than you.”
[At the time, Crawford was thirty-three, Lana still a teenager.]
“I’ve been around long enough to learn a few lessons you might not have, so I can advise,” Crawford said. “After all, when it comes to men, this is not my first time at the rodeo.”
“What kind of lessons?” Lana asked.
“Well, dear, when you’re young, you see things in a certain way, perhaps not as they are in the real world. The young often live in a fantasy world. As you get older, you realize how relationships—and life itself—can get god damn complicated.”
“Miss Crawford, exactly what is it you want me to know?” Lana asked.
“Greg Bautzer doesn’t love you,” Crawford said bluntly. “He hasn’t for a longtime, if he ever did. I can’t let you go on believing that he does. What Greg and I have is real. It’s me he truly loves. He just hasn’t figured out how to get rid of you. So why don’t you be a good little girl and let him know that it’s over between the two of you? Make it easy on yourself.”
One of the reigning goddesses of MGM, Joan Crawford summoned Lana to her house to tell her that Greg Bautzer was off limits.
Lana had long been dazzled by Crawford’s iconic beauty and her onscreen toughness. She answered the summons, but didn’t respond to Crawford’s lesbian advance.
“Get rid of me?” Lana asked in astonishment, as she was highly insulted. “That sounds like something you do with trash headed for the garbage can. Or maybe it’s some disease you cure yourself from.”
“I know your heart must be breaking, but I felt it was my duty to tell you,” Crawford said. “You must be realistic to save yourself from more heartbreak. Dear heart, I know how painful I must be for you to hear these words from me. But they are true.”
Flashing anger, Lana said, “You’re a liar. I don’t believe a word out of your mouth.”
“I would not lie to you, darling girl. I’m trying to get you to face the truth so you won’t be devastated suddenly when he drops you. I know you have a date with him tonight. He’s probably about to tell you the bad news unless you get a jump on him and cancel your date tonight...and every other night.”
Lana rose to her feet. “I’m getting out of here.”
Crawford, too, rose to her feet. On the screen, she always looked much taller.
“I could comfort you in your grief. I suggest you come upstairs. I have this beautiful new designer gift Adrian did for me. However, I think it would look stunning on you. I’ll give it to you. Why not come to my bedroom and try it on?”
“I’m not sure…” Lana seemed hesitant.
Before she could finish her sentence, Crawford embraced her tightly, planting a deep kiss on her lips while fondling a breast with one hand. Pulling back from her, Lana slapped her face really hard. Then she rushed out of the living room and into the vestibule, rescuing her shoes before heading out of the house and into the safety of her roadster.
She had to escape.
The next few hours were painful. She couldn’t get Bautzer on the phone. He had agreed to come by her house at 8PM. Almost on the dot, he arrived. She immediately confronted him with what Crawford had told her.
“That old bitch!” he said, reaching to take her in his arms. “It’s you I want.” Then he kissed her deeply, as she folded into his protective arms.
That night, after drinking the bottle of champagne he’d brought, he made love to her in front of her marble fireplace. Fortunately, Mildred was gone for the night.
Before 3AM, when he made love to her for the third time, he asked, “Do I seem like a man who’s about to dump you?”
“Gary Cooper was everything that John Wayne, my future co-star, pretended to be but wasn’t,” Lana claimed. “He was all male...and how! I couldn’t believe he’d turned down the role of Rhett Butler.”
His reputation had preceded him. His director, Stuart Heisler, once said, “Coop was probably the greatest cocks-man who ever lived.”
That made Lana wonder, “How did he know that?”
When he left the next morning at 7AM, he’d convinced her that he was madly in love with her, and was considering marriage. He didn’t exactly ask for her hand in marriage, but he put a diamond ring on her finge
r anyway.
***
Lana had dreamed a lot about Gary Cooper ever since working on his movie, The Adventures of Marco Polo. When she came of legal age, she placed a call to him on the set of his latest movie, The Cowboy and the Lady.
She was drawn to his lanky, hollow-cheeked male beauty, his unflappable strength, and a certain stumbling sincerity and wholesome gallantry.
“Hi,” she said when he came on the phone. “I’m Lana Turner. You said to call you when I’m no longer jailbait. I’m old enough now. You can make love to me without facing life imprisonment.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
“I hope you don’t think I’m forward with all my dates like this.”
“That’s not something I need to worry about,” he answered. “You’re one very attractive gal, but I’ve got to be discreet.”
She knew why. In 1933, he’d married the socialite-actress Veronica Balfe, whose friends called her “Rocky.”
And discreet he was, taking her to a rustic beachfront dive in Laguna Beach, where they were seated at a table in an alcove in the kitchen, with table service provided by his friend, Bugsy Barbato, the restaurant’s owner and chef. [Cooper avoided the tables in the dining room, as he did not want to be recognized by his fans.]
Lana later discussed her romance with Cooper with Ruth Hussey, when both actresses appeared in Rich Man, Poor Girl (1938).
“He has eyes the blue of the sky,” Lana said. “When he looks at a gal, she thinks she’s the only woman in the universe. And he has another endearing quality, too. He takes your hands and presses them against his cheeks. Isn’t that the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard of?”
Later that night in Laguna, he drove her to a remote villa set high in the hills, but with a view of the ocean. He never told her who owned the house.
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