***
Lana received an unexpected call from David Niven, with whom she’d had a brief fling. At the suggestion of his close, swashbuckling friend, Errol Flynn, he wanted to ask her if he could escort her to a private party at Flynn’s home the following night. “Clark Gable will be there, and several others—maybe thirty in all.”
She eagerly accepted the invitation as a distraction from having been recently deserted by Tyrone Power, and was surprised that Gable and Flynn had become such close friends, seeing each other several times a week. After his return from the war-front, Gable seemed to have evolved into a bachelor-at-large with a roving eye.
A savvy cad—David Niven, defying wartime frugality.
Upon his homecoming, he had resumed his affair with Virginia Grey, and almost daily Lana’s friend articulated her heartfelt desire that Gable would settle down and propose marriage.
To Lana, that didn’t seem likely.
He was seducing Paulette Goddard, but had complained to Lana that “she’s too strong-willed for me, and keeps hinting that some diamonds might be in order.” He was also dropping in on occasion to see his long-time flame, Joan Crawford, and was also seen escorting Anita Colby to functions. Dolly O’Brien had rejected his proposal of marriage. He told Flynn and others, “Dolly said I didn’t satisfy her in bed.:”
The press had also linked Gable to Betty Chisholm, the Jones Sausage heiress, and to Millicent Rogers, the Standard Oil heiress.
Before making Homecoming with Lana, he’d filmed The Hucksters (1947) in which Ava Gardner had one of the roles. In their girl-to-girl chats, Lana and Gardner often sliced up men, and both of them agreed that Gable was a self-admitted “lousy lay.”
On a Friday night, Niven arrived at Lana’s house, and, as always, he was the courtly British gentleman. When they appeared on the doorstep of Flynn’s home for a party, as planned, both of them were surprised when two young girls, no more than teenagers, opened the front door. “They were incredibly beautiful and absolutely nude,” Lana said. She tugged at Niven’s arm, suggesting, “This isn’t my kind of party.”
But he insisted that they go inside and greet Flynn, who had become aware of their arrival and was heading to greet them with one of his warm kisses on each of their lips.
Once inside, Lana entered a room of strangers, except for a few familiar faces. Bruce Cabot and Gable sat on Flynn’s sofa, receiving guests like royalty. Most of the party-goers were grips, studio technicians, budding starlets, and cameramen.
When she turned around, she encountered Ann Sheridan who whispered to her, “Watch what you say in the powder room. It’s bugged.”
Like the exuberant and spontaneous host he was, Flynn worked the room, occasionally stopping beside Lana to give her a kiss. When a seat on his sofa became available, Gable patted it and signaled to Lana to sit down. She noticed that “The King” was visibly shaking, although his weakened condition did not stop him from all-night partying and numerous conquests. He admitted to her that his tremors were caused by the Dexadrine he was taking “to lose all these pounds I’ve put on from too much boozing.”
Suddenly, Shelley Winters rudely squeezed herself into a position on the couch between Gable and herself. Niven jumped to Lana’s rescue, inviting her onto the moonlit terrace where he stood with her, looking back into the living room at both Gable and Flynn. “Looks like Yvonne De Carlo has staked out Errol for the night,” she said.
“Take a good look at those two once-handsome legends,” Niven said. “You’d better look now, because those two are about to fall apart with all this boozing, high living, constant fucking and wenching until dawn. It’s a bloody shame!”
“I agree,” she said, taking his hand and lightly holding it against her lips. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Since it’s Friday and I’m not scheduled to be at the studio until Monday morning, why not let me entertain you this weekend?”
“That’s the best offer I’ve had since Merle Oberon asked me to enter through the rear door.”
“Oh, David, you’re so vulgar! I love it! Let’s head for the door.”
She already knew what to expect from Niven, as did every star from Mae West to Hedy Lamarr, from Rita Hayworth to Ginger Rogers. The allure of David Niven was legendary.
It would be Monday morning before Niven told Lana goodbye after breakfast.
Later that day, she phoned Gardner to compare notes on their respective nocturnal activities over the weekend. Each seemed obsessed with the subject of male genitalia. “David Niven and John Hodiak have the two thickest cocks in Hollywood,” Lana claimed. “Not the longest, but the thickest. When I first saw them, nude and erect (and separately, of course), I wondered what I could do with such appendages other than to bring them gifts. But somehow, I managed.”
“Lately, I’ve been coming up short-changed in the male department,” Gardner said. “However, Porfirio Rubirosa, the playboy from the Dominican Republic, just called me. He’s known in restaurants as ‘Mr. Peppermill.’ I hear he can balance a chair with a telephone book on the tip of his erection.”
“My dear, it sounds like you’re heading for the hospital to be sewn up!”
“But what fun I’ll have in the meantime,” Gardner said. “A little advice from a friend. Time for you to get back into circulation, more than just a weekend fling with Niven. Perhaps find Husband Number Three, or should I count four since you married Stephen Crane twice?”
“Great idea!”
The two stars went on to discuss Gable, Gardner maintaining, “I have my stable of stud horses, and he has his harem.” She admitted to an affair she was sustaining with Robert Walker, her co-star in One Touch of Venus (1948). She had also met with Robert Taylor for a fling before they began filming The Bribe (1949).
“Clark Gable, Robert Walker, Robert Taylor,” Lana said. “Sounds like you’re following in Lana Turner’s footsteps. Been there, done all of them! You even married my first husband”
“I’ve got a new one you haven’t done yet,” Gardner said. “A sleek thug who works for Mickey Cohen. His name is Johnny Stompanato. He’s a boy wonder who compares his thing to the length of the Oscar.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Lana said.
“You will. He’s making the rounds of all the beauties of Hollywood.”
[Gardner would go on to make two more pictures with Gable, and Lana, after Home-coming, would star with him in one final movie. During interviews, both of the love goddesses denied having had any sexual liaisons with Gable. “We’re just good friends,” was their standard refrain.
Whereas Lana’s affair with Gable had too many eyewitnesses for her to convincingly deny it, Gardner squeaked by, sowing confusion, based on her frequent denials of any romantic links to Gable.
Gardner’s platform was shattered, however, in 1953, when veteran reporter Ruth Waterbury visited her at her flat in London. She found Gardner cooking a batch of bacon and eggs. From the bedroom, Waterbury heard a familiar voice: “Hey Ava, my bacon and eggs ready yet?”
“To my great surprise,” she said, Clark Gable appeared at the door coming from the bedroom. He wore nothing but a mischievous grin.”]
***
A new man was about to enter Lana’s life, even though at first she didn’t think he was worth a second look. She eventually came to view him as marriage material—that is, if she wanted financial security and not a hot sex life.
To escape from Hollywood and its memories of Power, she had fled to New York. She kept asking herself: “Was the breakup my fault? Where did I go wrong?”
To complicate matters, she was also under a rigorous audit from the Internal Revenue Service. Her accountants had routinely deducted “movie star items needed for work,” including tailored gowns, expensive furs, closetsful of shoes, even her chauffeur-driven limousine. Many other female stars were doing the same, but suddenly, the IRS cracked down, ruling that these were not deductible items, labeling them as personal expenses.
The audit went b
adly for her, and she found herself owing the IRS thousands upon thousands of dollars in back taxes. She reminded the IRS that she’d made millions for the U.S. Treasury during her war-bond tours, but that didn’t matter.
She was forced to meet with the legal department at MGM, where an agreement was reached that a hefty percentage of her weekly paycheck would be deducted and mailed directly to the IRS.
She was fortunate to have been recently granted a pay raise, so that now she was drawing the same salary as Clark Gable. Nonetheless, her accountants warned her to stop being so extravagant and to live within her means.
During time he had spent working in an aircraft factory in California, Howard Keel was said to have taken the virginity of 13-year-old Norma Jean Baker, who eventually changed her name to Marilyn Monroe. At the time of his seduction of this underaged girl, she was trying to fashion herself after Lana.
When Keel had first dated her, he was twenty-three years old. She had developed a crush on him, claiming, “I like older men.” However, he ultimately opted to reject her because of her age, defining her as “jailbait.”
In Manhattan, as a vehicle for escaping from the pressure, she threw herself into the city’s chic nightlife, going out with a different man every night. Most of the rendezvous were set up through MGM’s publicity department, often with wannabe movie stars hoping to become matinee idols of the 1950s to replace Tyrone Power or Clark Gable. She hoped that inviting them back to her suite to make love to her would help her forget Power. Even after their intimacies, none of them did.
There was one exception: Howard Keel, a handsome actor from Illinois “with a great set of pipes.” Oscar Hammerstein II had awarded him the lead in the London production of Oklahoma!, and he had emerged as the macho baritone par excellence.
Keel met Lana as he was contemplating a divorce from his first wife, actress Rosemary Cooper. Lana was hoping he’d help her get over the loss of Power, and he did—at least for a weekend. [The venue for their time together was the Plaza, not the Waldorf, as might have been expected, based on the title of Lana’s earlier film.]
On their first date, Keel escorted her to the Stork Club. (“I paid the bill.”) and then she invited him to her suite, from which he did not exit until Tuesday morning. Room service catered their meals, including plenty of champagne on ice.
She’d later relate the thrill of it all to Virginia Grey. “He has long legs, especially his ‘third leg,” a narrow waist, and broad shoulders. He doesn’t just seduce a girl, he transports her to paradise.”
She wanted him to stay, but he had to fly to Hollywood to begin his film career. Very soon, she learned that he’d been cast as the cocky marksman, Frank Butler, in Annie Get Your Gun. He was to play opposite Judy Garland, but she was fired, the role of Annie Oakley going to Betty Hutton.
With Keel gone, Lana continued with her whirlwind nightlife. She shuddered to think of Power making love to Linda Christian, against whom she continued to rage.
During her recent filming of Cass Timberlane, her dressing room had been swamped with white orchids and red roses. Every day, a deluxe box of chocolates arrived. The card that accompanied these gifts read Henry J. Topping. He usually signed “Bob” below the printed version of his formal name. “I fed the candy to the crew and felt intoxicated by the roses, enough for a funeral,” she said.
Bob Topping’s name was vaguely familiar to her, based on her avid pursuit of the era’s gossip columns. She knew that he’d had an affair with her former rival, Carole Landis, who had committed suicide over Rex Harrison.
When Topping finally got Lana on the phone, she demanded that he stop sending flowers and candy to her dressing room. She also told him not to call her again.
However, during her installation at the Plaza, Topping’s offerings of flowers, candy, and expensive trinkets that included costly bottles of French perfume, began reappearing. He finally got her on the phone through a connection he made to someone on the hotel’s switchboard. As he said, “It’s amazing what a fifty-dollar bill can do to an underpaid telephone operator.”
After much persuasion and much rejection, she finally agreed to go out with him. In the meantime, she made a few calls to in-the-know friends for some background on her upcoming blind date.
Topping was known as “the tin plate heir.” His family’s wealth, estimated at $140 million, derived from their grandfather, Daniel G. Reid. Most of the fortune came from tin plate, but he also made millions in steel, tobacco, railroads, and banking.
About six years older than Lana, Bob had been born in New York, one of three brothers. His brother Dan was famous in the city as the part owner of the New York Yankees.
At the age of twenty-one, Bob had married actress Jayne Shadduck, following her divorce from the playwright, Jack Kirkland. Their marriage lasted three years before he divorced her to marry Gloria (“Mimi”) Baker, a much-publicized café society woman related to members of the Vanderbilt family.
Bob’s most recent marriage had been to actress Arline Judge, whom Lana had met briefly at Hollywood parties. As part of a somewhat unsavory rondelay, Judge had first married Bob’s brother Dan, which made her the sister-in-law to her ex-husband and Bob the stepfather to his nephew, Dan Topping, Jr.
Since the 1930s, Judge had appeared in several low-budget B movies, but, in time, she would become more famous for her seven marriages, even though she’d been educated in a convent. Her first husband had been director Wesley Ruggles, who had helmed both Clark Gable and Lana in Somewhere I’ll Find You.
When Topping, as part of their first date, arrived to retrieve Lana at the Plaza, with the intention of escorting her to an important premiere in a chauffeur-driven limousine, he was in the process of divorcing Judge after only a few months of marriage.
Lana concealed her disappointment. Topping was gracious, well-dressed, and had impeccable manners, but, as she’d admit later, “He was certainly no Tyrone Power in either looks or physique, and he looked like he needed to lose more than a few pounds.”
They were on their way to an MGM publicity event. The studio had asked Lana to fill in for Loretta Young, who had been slated to deliver a welcome speech before an invited audience attending the premiere of her latest film, The Bishop’s Wife. Young had fallen ill. The 1947 release co-starred Cary Grant and David Niven, along with Monty Woolley, the notorious homosexual actor who was one of Power’s closest friends.
In the back of his limousine, en route to the premiere, she opened her purse to retrieve a cigarette. As she did, he dropped into it a small jewelry box emblazoned with the gold-lettered imprint of Cartier. She opened it to discover a stunning pair of diamond earrings. Hesitant to accept such a lavish gift from a stranger, she pointed out that she was already wearing her own pair of diamond earrings.
“A beautiful woman can’t own too many diamonds,” Topping responded. “Just ask Zsa Zsa Gabor.”
She removed her earrings and replaced them with his gift to her.
At the premiere, after greeting dozens of people she knew from Hollywood, she delivered a brief welcoming speech, receiving loud applause.
About an hour later, midway through the screening of Loretta Young’s film, Lana nudged Topping’s arm and whispered, “I can’t stand this lousy movie. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“I agree,” he said, as he discreetly escorted her to the nearest exit.
He had his chauffeur drive her to a lavish apartment on Park Avenue, the domain of Mrs. Evander Schley, who was hosting a party. The doyenne of society, Elsa Maxwell, chatted with Lana as she surveyed the roomful of New York’s elite, the women dressed in gowns from Christian Dior or Hattie Carnegie and purchased through such outlets as Saks or Bergdorf’s.
Maxwell said, “Lana, my dear, you’ll have to adjust to Park Avenue because Park Avenue will never lower itself to Hollywood.”
She took her over to introduce her to the chicly dressed Duchess of Windsor. Lana later said, “I find the Duchess incredibly polite but also st
uffy and cold.”
Lana made the rounds, greeting Mrs. Henry Payne Bingham, Mrs. Carol Carstairs, and Mrs. Harrison Williams, among others.
On leaving, she spoke again with the Duchess of Windsor. “You seem like such a beautiful young lady,” the Duchess said. “I must get the Duke to take me to one of your movies.”
Lana dated Topping for the next five nights in a row, turning down his request to come into her suite for a nightcap. On the sixth night, he was invited inside for more than a nightcap. As she’d later confide to Virginia Grey, “He hardly looks like Mr. America. He could pass for any rich man on the golf course at Palm Beach. As the saying goes, his physique is less than Greek. Average cock, missionary position, and one lousy kisser, but rich men can get away with their physical inadequacies.”
For the Christmas holidays, he invited Lana and her daughter to the 600-acre Topping estate, Dunellen Hall, a palatial replica of an English manor house with more than 50 rooms for the Topping family and their guests, plus another 20 rooms in a separate wing for an armada of staff.
[Dunellen Hall, at 521 Round Hill Road in Greenwich, Connecticut, built in 1918 by the founder of the Topping’s family fortune, has been described by real estate agents in The New York Times as “among the most famous of the region’s 13 (great) estates, with the ‘ultimate’ location on ‘the most famous street’ in the ‘best town in Connecticut.’” A previous occupant, cattle heiress Lynda Dick, articulated her belief that misfortune, like that associated with the Hope Diamond, had always befallen whomever owned it.
The manor house, partially assembled from stones and masonries salvaged from 16th- century manor houses torn down in England, included stables, tennis courts, horses, ducks, sheep, a working farm, a scenic lake, and greenhouses that evoked tropical gardens. In 1968, the house was the setting for a A Lovely Way to Die, starring Kirk Douglas.
In 1983, after multiple owners of varying degrees of tragedy, dissipation and misfortune, Dunellen Hall and its furnishings were bought by Harry and Leona (“The Queen of Mean”) Helmsley for $11 million. Subsequently, their lavish enlargements and restorations, each defined, for tax reasons, as business expenses, were later challenged (and denied) by the IRS. The Helmsleys’ widely publicized trials exposed Leona to nationwide humiliations and time spent in jail. (At the time, even Leona’s defense attorney referred to her in public as “a tough bitch.”) Leona died at Dunellen Hall in 2007, aged 87, bequeathing a large block of her fortune to her dog.]
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