Crypt 33

by Adela Gregory

  Marilyn appeared to be a happy-go-lucky girl. Always willing to learn, she asked all the right questions, but her real desire was to act. With the studio concentrating on their biggest box-office stars—Betty Grable, Gene Tierney, and Loretta Young—Marilyn was shifted to the background. The release of the film The Razor’s Edge was then Twentieth’s predominant concern. Darryl Zanuck, the man who thought she was gorgeous, now had no time for her.

  After six laborious months, Marilyn was signed for her first film role in Scudda-Hoo, Scudda-Hay, starring the then popular actress June Haver. She was to appear in only one shot, a scene in which she and another woman were boating. The director filmed a close-up of her, but it was later cut, leaving only the long shot. Unfortunately she was unrecognizable. The film editor made the choice. How she wished her mother had been there cutting the film. Marilyn hadn’t appreciated her mother’s talent and power in the film business until now. Once again she longed for a mother or father.

  Marilyn caught the roving eye of Joseph M. Schenck, an executive producer who had cofounded Twentieth Century Pictures with Darryl Zanuck, then later merged with William Goetz of Fox. He had a powerful position on the lot, even though he had just served part of a prison term. Schenck had received a one-year sentence to the Federal Correction Institute for tax evasion and kickbacks to gangsters in the stagehand’s union. President Harry Truman had pardoned him, and he had gratefully returned to his former position at Fox.

  Passing a gorgeous blonde on the lot, Schenck stopped his limousine dead in its tracks to hand Marilyn his card and invite her to dinner the following week. Something about the elderly man attracted her. Schenck’s formidable appearance and noticeable self-confidence ignited her interest.

  Schenck had once started a studio on Forty-Eighth Street in Manhattan where he produced films for his wife, actress Norma Talmadge. Marilyn had always worshipped Norma, the actress she was named after.

  The sixty-seven-year-old had a certain charm. For a man in his position, he was considerably down to earth. The starlet did not hesitate to tell him how she acquired her original name. He felt comfortable with her, too.

  Their relationship expanded after their first dinner date. The aging Schenck was nearly impotent, so they practiced oral sex; Marilyn didn’t mind. His home was lovely, the food was good, and he educated her about the movie business. They connected in their peculiar way.

  Zanuck noticed the affair and began to despise Marilyn. He had “discovered” her beauty in the first place, and, as far as he was concerned, that gave him first claim to her favors. With Marilyn conspicuously involved with Schenck, Zanuck childishly took out his anger on her.

  Marilyn equally despised Zanuck. Schenck had described to her in detail the scurrilous behavior of his partner. The hate between them would continue throughout her career at Twentieth as Zanuck annoyed her constantly with scripts she detested. He never forgave her for taking his impotent partner as a lover.

  Monroe and Schenck’s association continued to flourish, but he could not open any career doors for her. Their second six months were uneventful, except that Marilyn was cast in her first speaking role, a small part in Dangerous Years. A “B” picture about juvenile delinquency, the film was intended to revive the career of the formerly famous Dead End Kid Billy Halop. Released on December 8, 1947, Dangerous Years was virtually ignored by the press and flopped. The actress played a waitress attending tables for teenagers who caroused in the diner. Immediately after final shooting wrapped on August 25,1947, she was officially dropped from her contract. But it did give Marilyn Monroe her first speaking role.

  Resorting to living on unemployment compensation, she was running out of money. Her income was a mere three dollars a day, compared to the $75 weekly salary she’d received under contract. Monroe called Emmeline Snively for modeling jobs, but the requests for her type were not as frequent as they had been. Marilyn took whatever jobs came her way.

  During her contract with Twentieth, Marilyn had developed a relationship with another buxom blond beauty, Shelley Winters. They shared lunches and gossip. They tattled about the behavior of their bosses. They commiserated about their plight. Shelley remembers Marilyn as a girl who wore skin-tight halter tops and carried books like encyclopedias and dictionaries. After Marilyn’s dismissal Shelley convinced her to get involved with theater groups. Charles Laughton had a group in his home, but Marilyn was terrified by his superiority as an actor. Another possibility was the Actors Lab, headed by Morris Carnovsky, an alleged communist who in 1952 was cited by the House Un-American Activities Committee.

  Eventually Winters’s efforts to get Marilyn involved with the theater paid off. She appeared as second lead in the play Glamour Preferred. There were no offers for paid work, but Huntington Hartford, heir to the A&P fortune, approached her backstage after the performance and invited her to dinner. Shelley had reminded the actress that in Hollywood it was whom you knew, not what you knew. Marilyn accepted the invitation.

  Joe Schenck continued to call her for dinner, and the impoverished divorcee willingly accepted. Enjoying his company, Monroe would listen to his tales of Old Hollywood long into the night. Marilyn adored him and worshipped his knowledge; his way with words intrigued her, too.

  The intimate dinners paid off. Schenck could not stand seeing his favorite girl miserable, so he finally made a call to his old friend and crony, Harry Cohn, who ran Columbia Pictures in Burbank. Cohn had a penchant for gorgeous girls and Schenck was certain he would appreciate Marilyn’s beauty. Perhaps Cohn had already spotted her in one of her two feature films, but whatever the reason, he placed the blonde on contract in March 1948.

  To be close to the studio, the starlet took up residence with a family as a housesitter. Returning late one evening, she found herself confronted by an off-duty policeman who had had too much to drink. Supposedly he claimed that her beauty had driven him to make unwarranted advances. Marilyn cried for help, and he was arrested. The Hollywood Citizen-News picked up the story and she got her first dose of unfavorable publicity.

  Being without a family of sorts was uncomfortable. A woman living without (real) family was a natural target for leeches. At a party at Ben Lyon’s beach house, she dramatized her brush with rape, looking for sympathy and protection. John Carroll, a former leading man and then head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer talent and a voice coach, and his wife Lucille Ryman, were temporary rescuers. Carroll resembled both her idol, Clark Gable, and her long-lost father Gifford who, together, were intertwined as one savior. She was looking for a father for support and protection, both essential for her existence. John and his wife appeared to have a family environment that was both comfortable and reassuring.

  Carroll’s motivation for having Marilyn move into their home was questionable. He signed an exclusive management contract with a girl who had obvious talents and looks. Successful film acting depended upon her abilities. He had seen many talented women in his long career at MGM, and this one was different. He saw the enormous talent waiting to be unleashed. The vulnerable beauty turned him on sexually and emotionally.

  Moving into the Carrolls’ Cheviot Hills home, near Twentieth Century-Fox, Marilyn quickly grew dependent upon their judgment in making every decision, right down to her choice of dress, lipstick, and nail color. Lucille found her enticing and lovely, no threat whatever to her marriage. She believed any attraction her husband felt toward Marilyn would be fleeting. Then business took a downward turn, and the Carrolls moved to a less expensive house in Hollywood. Marilyn moved along too, but things were winding down at Columbia. As expected, Harry Cohn propositioned the actress, but she refused his advances. His already famous “night on his yacht” had gotten stale to the starlets and his unappealing manner and looks were an instant turn-off. Cohn had notches in his belt, and going to bed with him was a last resort for even the most desperate actress. Marilyn could not be bought; if she was attracted to someone, she was willing to share her body and moments of tenderness with him, but she had
to be attracted. Harry made his pitch and she refused him. She prayed her refusal wouldn’t get her dismissed.

  Marilyn was living with the Carrolls and still under contract to Columbia when Aunt Ana Lower died. She had been ill for quite some time. Aunt Ana had always been there to soften blows for the child she had nurtured through to adulthood. At the funeral at Westwood Mortuary Marilyn sat grimly by Ana’s coffin and then quietly at her gravesite.

  The loss of Aunt Ana went right to Marilyn’s heart. There had been ten good years to their relationship, much more than she had ever enjoyed with her own mother. But like a true survivor, Marilyn was already finding a substitute. Ana’s replacement was to be the acting coach Natasha Lytess.

  Lytess had entered her life when the film producer Harry Romm suggested the actress was not prepared for her small role in Ladies of the Chorus. Director Phil Karlson and head talent man Max Arnow agreed. Marilyn’s experience in front of the movie camera was practically nil. She was still stuttering and nervous as she rehearsed on the set. Natasha Lytess later recalled that her first encounter with Marilyn was embarrassing. The actress had looked like a “streetwalker” and seemed to lack any sense of direction or purpose. The negative first impression would normally have dissuaded Lytess from wanting to work with such a “floozy,” but Marilyn’s apparent vulnerability and talent ignited her interest.

  Much to the disdain of Lytess, Marilyn became sexually involved with her handsome and sophisticated voice coach, Fred Karger. The affair turned sour, as Marilyn chased him incessantly, begging him to marry her. His mother, Anne Karger, took a distinct liking to the actress and hoped the couple would resolve their differences. But it was not to be. Instead, the young star gained another surrogate mother, who followed and supported her career. Until her death, Marilyn would cherish her relationship with Anne Karger.

  After the first six months of her Columbia contract, the actress had been cast only in Ladies of the Chorus. Not surprisingly, Columbia dropped the option to renew.

  Once more without work, Marilyn quickly landed a job on stage at the Mayan Theater. Located on South Hill Street in seedy downtown Los Angeles, the theater originally showcased first-run movies. By the time Marilyn got a job there, it housed a burlesque show just ten blocks from City Hall. The downtown area, jammed with business types during the day, was generally deserted by the affluent at night, and it wasn’t fashionable for Hollywood notables to socialize there. But Marilyn needed money. Her rent was weeks overdue again and a long list of creditors were calling for payment.

  She entered the manager’s office, which faced north, climbed the metal staircase, and peered cautiously across the street, hoping she wouldn’t be seen. A soiled blue scarf wrapped carelessly around her head hid her hairdo. Her tattered nylon stockings had been discarded that morning. With minimum wage barely up to a dollar fifty an hour, she could hardly afford new hose at a dollar a pair. Room and board were eighteen dollars a week. The economy was weak all around.

  She knew her body was attractive, but she was insecure about her ability on the dance floor. Her knock knees were her biggest shame. Doctors had told her they were likely the result of malnourishment as a child. That sounded on-target to her; she had certainly known hungry days. So maybe being a striptease dancer wasn’t so bad. At least it would pay the rent.

  As the lights dimmed and the footlights came on, a low roar came from the crowd. As the music played up its tempo, Marilyn shimmied out onto the stage. Men from the audience screamed hoarsely, “Take it off, baby! Take it all off!” as they gaped at her with drink-blurred eyes. She reached for a strap and, in slow motion, playing it up, hinted at undoing her brassiere. Prancing around seductively on the stage, a smile pasted to her face, the young woman threw kisses to her viewers, flirting with them as she had been instructed.

  Anton LaVey focused his shifty eyes on the young woman cavorting across the stage. He had the best seat in the house every night—he was the organist accompanying the strippers. And he was Marilyn’s newest man.

  “We made love sometimes in a motel, or when we were broke we did it in her car,” he would remark casually. 1The car was a 1948 convertible that cost her around thirteen hundred dollars. The payments were small, but so was Marilyn’s paycheck. Soon after the affair ended, the Ford was repossessed.

  Fortunately for the reluctant stripper, Marilyn soon got a call she had been anticipating. She had spoken to producer Lester Cowan about a role in the Marx Brothers’ new film Love Happy. Getting a part would enable her to quit her job at the Mayan Theater. The movie, story by Groucho, script by Frank Tashlin and Mac Benoff, was meant to serve as a comeback for both United Artists and the Marx Brothers, who had been on a five-year hiatus.

  After her interview at RKO Studios with Cowan and Groucho, who said she had the prettiest ass in the business, she landed the role. The starlet garnered two lines, more than she ever had before. In the film she walked into Groucho’s office. He asks, “Is there anything I can do for you?” Marilyn says, “Mr. Grunion, I want you to help me... some men are following me.” With his famous eye movements, Groucho returns, “Really, I can’t understand why.” Her sensational walk and bounteous bosom no doubt attracted plenty of attention, but her two lines were hardly enough to carry the movie, which bombed miserably.

  Driving a borrowed car to a reading, without a nickel in her purse, and almost later, Marilyn absentmindedly struck another vehicle, disabling the car she was driving. Practically in tears, Marilyn knew if she was late she’d certainly lose the role. The other driver, photographer Tom Kelley, noticed that Marilyn was an exceptionally pretty girl. Hoping for a future date, he slipped her a five-dollar bill and his business card. His small investment would pay off well in the future. Marilyn left the borrowed car at the scene of the accident and dashed off to her appointment.

  Months later, Marilyn called Tom looking for work. Her 1948 Ford convertible had just been repossessed by the finance company, and she needed to redeem it. Kelley had an assignment to photograph nudes for an industrial calendar. He said the pay for the shooting was good: fifty dollars. Not only did Marilyn need money immediately, she felt beholden to the man who had allowed her to get to her reading on time. The photo session lasted three hours. The luscious blonde lay languorously on a red velvet blanket. Marilyn seemed at home in front of the camera. She did not mind, but rather, seemed comforted, that Kelley’s wife was present. A commercial photographer, Tom did not ordinarily photograph nudes, but his camera eye was keen and the session produced brilliant results. She saved her car.

  Later on, when Marilyn was once again under contract with Twentieth, she would stop by his studio, have a cup of coffee, and chat. One day she saw the results of their work. Marilyn stared at the photo as though it were someone else, concluding that it was pretty good. Several weeks later, while on the set of Clash by Night, the actress phoned and asked for twenty-five copies of the calendar, which Tom ordered for her. Marilyn picked them up and released them to her friends and the media. Pulling off that stunt was pretty savvy. When publicity hounds got hold of the calendar, all hell broke loose. In those days nudity was considered risqué. The newly controversial starlet got a lot of mileage from her nude shots, especially when she confessed that she had needed the money to pay bills. Marilyn Monroe soon became the most talked-about actress in town.

  6

  Johnny Hyde

  Johnny Hyde, vice president of William Morris, the most powerful agency in Hollywood, was present at a screening of Love Happy. Although Hyde thought the film stank, he was wildly impressed with Marilyn. His agency represented such stars as Rita Hayworth, Betty Hutton, Esther Williams, and Lana Turner, and Hyde sensed Marilyn would reach that magnitude at least.

  After meeting her in person at the Racquet Club in Palm Springs, he fell uncontrollably in love with her. He completely forgot he was already married to Mozelle Cravens and had four healthy sons.

  Son of a Russian acrobat, Hyde had show business in his blood, but he
had no stomach for performing. Instead he was highly successful negotiating top-pay salaries for actors such as Bob Hope.

  Johnny openly expressed his love for Marilyn. He was old enough to be the twenty-two-year-old’s father. But that did not stop them from becoming an item at nearly every Hollywood affair. At the Crystal Room of the Beverly Hills Hotel, Betty Hutton held a party in honor of Louis Sobol and his bride. All the town’s glittering elite were there, including Johnny and Marilyn. Tongues wagged as the much shorter Johnny whirled his ingenue across the dance floor. Marilyn relished the role of social shocker; the attention made her feel important. Besides, Johnny seemed to be the only man who really understood her. She didn’t care what anyone else thought about their affair; she was too busy soaking up his love. They would frequently go to Romanoffs, later to become Marilyn’s favorite night spot. Men would constantly walk to their table and ask her to dance. Instead of being jealous, Johnny felt proud that she drew so much attention. Secure in Marilyn’s love for him, Johnny felt confident in her promises to be faithful, despite her confession to him that she was still in love with Fred Kargar (who did not return the sentiment). Perhaps because of her fears of complete commitment, she used Kargar as a wedge, hedging her bets should Johnny decide to abandon her.

  Many saw Marilyn unfairly as a conniving opportunist who would manipulate her way to the top. This type of behavior was rather a defense mechanism to squelch her feelings and the pain of her past, to keep from falling apart. With Johnny she didn’t have to hide her insecurities, hurts, and disappointments, because he accepted her completely. He understood her burning need to overcome her past struggles by plunging into her career, to be noticed, respected, and loved by everyone. Nurturing her ambition to show the world what she was made of, he took the time and patience to introduce her to classical music and literature. He respected Marilyn for her sensitivity, honesty, and her inner as well as outer beauty. She in turn saw him as the kindest, warmest, gentlest, most charming man she ever knew.