by Donald Spoto
In the years to come, she was often asked if that spring evening was the most gratifying, most exciting moment of her life. She never wavered: “No, not at all—it was the day when [her first child] Caroline, for the first time, began to walk. She took seven small steps by herself before reaching me and throwing herself into my arms.” When another question was put to her, as it was hundreds of times, “How did it feel to win the Oscar?”—she smiled and said something polite. But to friends she confided the truth: “I was unhappy. I had fame, but you find that fame is awfully empty if you don’t have someone to share it with.” When Grace left America in 1956, the coveted statuette went with her, remaining on a small table in her room at the palace until her death; her son Albert then placed it in his living room.
WHERE WAS Oleg Cassini that March? As he later admitted, he was temporarily separated from Grace—“because of my terrible and often silly temper [and] some awful fights, most of which were my fault.” The catalyst for the diminishment of their romance was in fact his unreasonable jealousy. There had been rumors he knew to be false—that Grace had had a brief romance with Bing Crosby—and he was furious that she still occasionally dined with Crosby in Los Angeles. “I behaved badly,” Oleg said—and Grace agreed, as she wrote in a letter:
You have upset me so that I could die.
It is incredible to me that having dinner with Lizanne and the Crosbys can make you behave like a schoolboy—If I went out with Bing alone you would be absolutely right—and I would never do that to begin with, because I have no interest in anyone but you—but this I shouldn’t have to explain.
Bing is a wonderful person and a very dear friend. I have great respect for him and hope he will be our friend for many years.
I told you he said that he was in love with me—but there are many people he feels that way about, and after the emotional strain of playing Country Girl, this was only natural. But Bing would never try to do anything about it. Unless he thought I wanted it that way.
I have very few friends out here. Please don’t ask me to give up their friendships!
But that was not the only incident that caused Grace to reevaluate the affair with Oleg. On another occasion that spring, she wanted to dine with Jay Kanter and Frank Sinatra, to discuss a potential movie project. She told Oleg before the evening was confirmed. But Oleg was furious, calling the dinner a pretext for Sinatra to initiate a romance. “I must explain something to you right now, with no interruptions,” Grace said calmly while Cassini raged. “The extravagance of your jealousy did not displease me at first. But isn’t it about time that you stopped this silly behavior? It shows nothing but a lack of confidence. I love you, but your anger isn’t very endearing. Indeed, it is slowly destroying the warmth I’ve felt for you. If it is so important to you, I won’t go out with Sinatra. But please, stop this behavior right now!”
Cassini was judging Grace by his own conduct, believing that she was as frivolous (indeed, as promiscuous) as he—and this mistaken presumption led him to jealous rages over matters he knew and later admitted had no foundation in reality. That spring of 1955, he was, with his own hand, finishing off an intense and important relationship that had been central to their lives for a year—and that might otherwise have led to marriage.
AS IF ON CUE, three distractions arose just as Grace was considering the emotional consequences of her cooling-off period from Oleg.
First, her agents had an uncharacteristically cheerful call from Dore Schary: Congratulations to Grace on her well-deserved Oscar … we said that she was headed for the top … you know we have admired her all along … we just waited, in order to provide the right project for her…. We love her—why, she’s just like family…. And so it went—the usual Hollywood hypocritical double-talk in place of plain speaking. Now at last, Schary continued, the studio was convinced they had the right movie for Grace: They just know she will love it, because she said she loved appearing in an abbreviated television version of the story in 1950—and of course all this business about the suspension—well, let’s just forget about that, ha-ha-ha….
In fact, “the right movie” had not been Schary’s idea at all, and Jay Kanter knew it, but he had the diplomatic good sense to listen and say nothing.
The day before her meeting at Metro the preceding January, Grace had invited George Kelly to lunch on the terrace of the Bel-Air Hotel. “As usual, we talked about books and the theatre,” Grace told me, “and, also as usual, I mentioned the kinds of plays I dreamed of doing on the stage. George reminded me how much I had enjoyed acting in an abbreviated television version of Molnár’s play The Swan. At that moment we both knew it could be a wonderful picture.” During her meeting with Schary the next day, Grace proposed the idea. He promised to think about it, and now—during the phone conversation with Kanter—he presented it as if it were his own idea, and he asked that it be conveyed to Grace for her consideration.
The Swan, written in Hungarian in 1914, is the story of a beautiful princess in a small, unnamed European principality, torn between love and duty. In deference to her family and her station in life, she marries a prince who will inherit a kingdom, and at the finale, she (perhaps) glides happily ever after. Grace had read the 1923 English translation when she assumed the role of Alexandra in 1950; she appreciated the play’s bittersweet understatement, its wit and irony, and she liked its poignant delicacy about the unrealistic expectations people often have of life. And so, on April 25, Grace signed the renewal of her option papers and agreed to return to Metro for The Swan, scheduled for production that autumn. To sweeten the deal, her studio announced that, for the first time in her career, Grace Kelly’s name would appear first in the movie’s opening credits; it does—but alongside the names of Alec Guinness and Louis Jourdan, and not alone on the screen.4* With her Academy Award and the starring role of Princess Alexandra in the story, the studio could do no less—but they might have done more.
The timing of her first film since To Catch a Thief appealed to Grace. With four months to herself—from May through August 1955—she would be able at last to work full-time with George Stacey, finishing the redecoration of her new apartment. In addition, her sister Lizanne was to be married in June, and Grace wanted to help with all the preparations.
Then came a second distraction. Rupert Allan was acting as the liaison between the Cannes Film Festival and Hollywood studios. He rang Grace from Los Angeles with the news that the festival would like to include The Country Girl in early May, before its Paris opening on May 13, and they very much wanted Grace to make an appearance in Cannes. This idea held no interest for her at all. She was looking forward to her time at home and with her sister, and she told Rupert that the thought of crowds and interviews made her dizzy. Over several days, Rupert rang back with additional reasons for her to reconsider, but Grace was determined to preserve some distance from the world of movies. No, she told Rupert, thank you very much, but I will sit this one out. Perhaps another year?
And then came a third distraction, which changed everything. Jean-Pierre Aumont, with whom she had acted in the television drama about the Audubons, had returned briefly to New York after completing a French picture. With no fear of interference from Cassini, she readily accepted Jean-Pierre’s dinner invitation and found him more than merely charming: he was also highly sophisticated, cultured, courtly and an attentive and caring listener—in other words, precisely the kind of companion Grace needed that spring.
Her Oscar had required her to change her telephone number, and for weeks she had been (as her character Lisa says in Rear Window) juggling wolves. A quiet dinner with Jean-Pierre occurred at just the right moment—and it was just a quiet dinner. But later, after he spent a night with Grace at her new apartment, he told her that he, too, had business in Cannes, and had planned to go to Paris to see his young nephews. Why shouldn’t they meet in France a few weeks later? Grace acquiesced. From such casual, spontaneous decisions does one’s destiny take shape, and what seems but a confl
uence of distractions alters the course of life.
By coincidence, Rupert rang the next day to importune Grace one more time: the festival would provide her with first-class airline tickets, he said, along with a suite at the Carlton Hotel, a limousine and driver at her disposal, and … But Grace interrupted him. She would be delighted to attend, and no more need be said about it. On April 30, she left New York and flew to Paris, intending to take the train from there to the south. “I had no idea,” Rupert told me, “that Jean-Pierre would be waiting at the Cannes railway station to welcome her. These secrets were yet to be revealed.”
But the subplots were only beginning.
At precisely the same time, the editors of France’s Paris-Match magazine were huddled in their cramped offices near Champs-Elysées, trying to find an interesting way to cover the whirl of activities at Cannes. Pierre Galante, the magazine’s movie editor, had the task of finding an angle for a photo story that would be newsworthy at home and abroad. Managing editor Gaston Bonheur, who had only just been informed that Miss Kelly was expected around May 3, said her presence was very welcome, but that on her own she would not provide the excitement they were after to attract a huge readership. Bonheur then asked Galante if he thought it would be possible to arrange a meeting between Miss Kelly and Prince Rainier III of Monaco—something along the lines of “Hollywood Movie Queen Meets Real-Life Prince.”
Galante doubted such a meeting would be possible. While she was in Cannes, Miss Kelly’s schedule had been planned to the minute, and the prince’s business schedule alternated with capricious absences and impromptu holidays. Despite his misgivings, Galante and his wife—Olivia de Havilland, who had added two best-actress Oscars to her successful battle against the studio system—departed from the Gare de Lyon and headed for Cannes. As it happened, Grace held a reservation on the same train; she was traveling with her friend Gladys de Segonzac, who had helped with her wardrobe on To Catch a Thief.
A meeting between a prince and a foreigner not on an official visit was a delicate matter. The prince had to issue a formal invitation, which was rather like a command to be present—and it would be very nearly a catastrophe if the summons was turned down because of “other plans.” Up to this point, Grace had no notion that there was a scheme to introduce her to Rainier of Monaco so that magazines could be sold.
Before the passengers disembarked the next morning, Grace asked Olivia what might be expected of her at the festival, where she ought to go and what she ought to do.
“How would you like to visit Monaco?” asked Pierre, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “You’ll have to get away from the reporters for a little while or you’ll collapse with exhaustion, and Monaco is delightful.” With that, Pierre became a kind of travel agent for the small principality, speaking rhapsodically about the charm of the place. Grace replied that such a visit might be a pleasant interlude—if her schedule permitted.
In Cannes, Paramount’s French representative welcomed Grace and escorted her to the Carlton Hotel. Lo! Among the celebrities gathering on the station platform to greet arriving guests was none other than Jean-Pierre Aumont, who followed Grace’s car and arrived at the Carlton moments later. He found a few acquaintances in the lobby and corralled them for drinks while Grace dispatched the first of her interviews. Then Galante arrived with the news that Grace’s schedule would indeed allow her some free time the next afternoon, and they could all drive to meet Prince Rainier and pose for some photographs. In the best traffic conditions (which rarely prevailed), the drive from Cannes to Monaco would take no less than an hour and a half.
“I don’t see why it’s so important for me to meet the prince,” Grace said, “but if you think it’s such a good idea, I’ll do it.” Calls were put through to the palace, and the report came back that Prince Rainier would be pleased to welcome Miss Kelly at four o’clock on May 6. The next morning Grace told Galante, “Oh, this is quite impossible—I simply can’t go to Monaco today. I’ve had a call that I must return to Cannes at five-thirty to host a reception for the American contingent. You’ll have to cancel the prince.” Galante made another call to the palace, and after a brief delay, the prince’s secretary said that His Serene Highness was entertaining guests at his villa in Beaulieu, but he would make every effort to return to the palace at three instead of four to accommodate Miss Kelly’s schedule. More rearrangements were made, and at last things looked favorable.
Minutes before three o’clock on Friday, May 6, Grace, Pierre, Olivia and Paramount’s French representative arrived at the palace in Monaco. The prince had been delayed in Beaulieu, but his guests, waiting at the palace, were assured his return was imminent. An aide gave Grace and her companions a tour of the palace. Tea was offered. No Rainier. At fifteen minutes before four o’clock, Grace and her small party waited anxiously in the palace courtyard. “I think it’s very rude of him to keep us waiting like this,” she said quietly. “I cannot be late for the reception—let’s get out of here.”
And then, as the tower clock struck four, the apologetic Prince Rainier hurried through a portico to greet his guests. “Would you like to visit the palace?” he asked.
“We just have,” Grace replied.
He suggested a stroll through the gardens, and cameras clicked from a discreet distance. Thirty minutes later, polite thank-yous and good-byes were said, and Grace and company raced back to Cannes. “Well, he’s very charming,” Grace said to Pierre and Olivia, and that was that. Paris-Match had their photos, the issue would be a sellout, and Grace was a half hour late to the reception. Late that evening she joined Jean-Pierre Aumont for supper, and when all Grace’s duties at the Cannes Film Festival had been fulfilled a few days later, she prolonged her visit to France to spend more time with him.
The 2006 summary of Grace’s life, approved by her son, Prince Albert, contains this account of her relationship with Aumont that May of 1955: “They spent their days together, and their apparent friendship hid a complicit love affair. Looking to escape from the paparazzi, they took refuge at the Montana reserve in La Napoule, outside Cannes. Even so, they were pursued by photographers and journalists, and this lunch à deux resulted in a memorable photo of the couple.”
Within days, “everyone was talking about her ‘future marriage’ to Jean-Pierre Aumont.” The couple retreated to Paris, where “she spent many happy days with Jean-Pierre Aumont. Hidden from the press in his La Malmaison home, she tasted the joys of a peaceful life, happy and surrounded by children, the actor’s nephews.” The love affair quickly deepened into something quite serious, and very soon the American press reported that Grace and Jean-Pierre “held and kissed each other’s hands in cozy rendezvous.” Asked if marriage was in the forecast, he was diplomatic but not coy: “She is an adorable and sensational woman any man would be proud and pleased to marry. But whether the feelings are reciprocal is up to her to say.”
Another contingent of the press followed up on the Monaco visit. What did the bachelor prince think of Miss Kelly? “I had not yet visited the United States,” Rainier said, “and this was one of the first occasions I had to meet an American girl. She spoke clear English and was very calm, very agreeable, but my feelings went no further than that. It was merely ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye.’ … Certainly no thoughts of marriage crossed my mind!”
IN A DIFFERENT context, marriage (but not to Rainier) was very much on Grace’s mind when she returned to America and helped her sister prepare for her wedding. On Saturday, June 25, 1955, Lizanne’s twenty-second birthday, she was married to Donald LeVine at the Kellys’ parish church, St. Bridget’s. Grace was the bridesmaid and Peggy matron of honor. Margaret and John Kelly had disapproved of Peggy’s marriage to a Protestant, and they had expressed their doubts about Lizanne’s marriage to a Jew. It was no surprise that the continued vetting of Grace’s beaux continued more insistently than ever.
Lizanne’s wedding was a turning point in Grace’s life. According to Lizanne, “She thought she was miss
ing something, and she wanted to get married and be a mother, too.” Grace spent much of the summer at the family’s seaside home, where the place was filled with children and young married couples. At twenty-five, she was more than eager to be married—and, as she had said, she felt that she was “aging much too quickly.” To Judy Kanter, Grace confided that “the wedding was so sweet … and all those sweet children … I want all of that … before I’m just everyone’s spinster Aunt Grace.” When Judy asked about Jean-Pierre, Grace smiled: it had been a lovely springtime dalliance, but there was no serious prospect of marriage and the affair had ended, with mutual respect and affection. Years later, Aumont was asked if Grace was one of the great loves of his life. “No,” he replied, “but it was a very tender friendship.”
The tabloid press, ever eager for lubricious tales of Hollywood, began an assault on previously untouchable leading ladies in 1955. Rave magazine was one of the boldest, and in March it published an article about Grace called “She-Wolf Deluxe,” which listed a legion of lovers whose marriages Grace had supposedly destroyed. The content was so libelous that her father initiated legal proceedings—an action he withdrew when he learned that the editor, one Victor Huntington Rowland, had legally declared bankruptcy. “My son and I will settle it in our own way without a lawsuit,” Jack Kelly said. “We’ll take him on.” The matter went no further, except that (with appropriate changes) it found its way into the screenplay for Grace’s last Hollywood film, High Society.