The Genius and the Goddess

by Jeffrey Meyers

  Marilyn's room looked like a cubicle in a cheap motel. There was no furniture, apart from the bed, a simple mattress and box-spring, with its twisted sheets. There was one light fixture on the wall and a tiny lamp on the bedside table, which was full of empty pill containers. Her few possessions, scattered around the carpeted floor, gave the impression that she'd just moved in.

  Marilyn's doctors did not call the police for several hours, and gave Murray time to tamper with the scene. Greenson summoned Engelberg who, at 3:50 a.m. on Sunday August 5, declared Marilyn dead – though she probably died between 10 p.m. and midnight on August 4. The police, finally summoned at 4:20 a.m., arrived ten minutes later. They were surprised to find Murray cleaning up the bedroom and running the washing machine in the middle of the night. After questioning her and the two doctors, they searched for and failed to find a suicide note. Murray – vague, evasive and contradictory – changed the time she discovered the body, from midnight to 3 a.m., to explain the delay in calling the police. Inez Melson, Marilyn's business manager, then arrived and removed her personal papers. Newcomb also appeared to answer the numerous phone calls and help control the press and the crowd that began to gather at the house.

  At 5:30 a.m. Marilyn's corpse was taken to the Westwood Village Mortuary; at 8 a.m. it was moved to the City Morgue; and at 10:30 a.m. Dr. Thomas Noguchi, the deputy coroner, did the autopsy. Noguchi specified that Marilyn's "liver, kidney, stomach and contents, urine and intestine [should be] saved for further toxicological study." But most of her organs were destroyed by his superiors before they could be analyzed. Marilyn's death seemed to make self-destruction fashionable. In Los Angeles in August 1962 suicides increased by 40 percent.

  The studios had carefully created the glamorous Marilyn through a series of aesthetic improvements. The autopsy carved her up and took her apart. Dr. Noguchi, a well-respected pathologist, wrote, "I began my examination by searching painstakingly with a hand-held magnifying glass for any needle marks which would indicate that drugs had been injected. . . . I found no needle marks, and so indicated." But he allowed the possibility of an injection by adding, "punctures made by fine surgical needles, such as Dr. Greenson used, heal within hours and become invisible. Only fresh punctures can be discovered."

  Noguchi also asked and answered the two vital questions that would trouble investigators for years:

  —If Marilyn Monroe swallowed dozens of sleeping pills, why was there no evidence of pills in her digestive tract?

  —Her stomach was familiar with those pills, and they were digested and "dumped" into the intestinal tract.

  —The yellow dye on the Nembutal she swallowed should have stained her stomach. And yet you found no evidence of staining. How can that be?

  —Nembutal is made with a capsule whose color does not run when it is swallowed.

  Considering the forty to fifty pills that Marilyn swallowed, Noguchi definitively concluded, "In Monroe's case, an accidental overdose of that magnitude was extremely unlikely." His conclusion was confirmed by the suicide panel that studied her case and also "had no doubt that she had killed herself."6

  The autopsy report seemed conclusive. But it was clear from the many lies, contradictions and irregularities surrounding Marilyn's suicide that there had been a cover-up between 11 p.m., when Jacobs arrived, and 4:30 a.m., when the police arrived. This cover-up was meant to conceal any foul play that might have caused Marilyn's death and to hide her intimate connection with the Kennedys. (There is no trace of Marilyn in the John F. Kennedy presidential library.) The attempt to conceal the truth has spawned many wildly implausible conspiracy theories, fueled by political fanaticism or a crass desire for publicity and money. The leading theories were: Greenson, Marilyn's lover and in a jealous rage, murdered her with a fatal injection or a fatal enema. Or Greenson, acting as an agent for the Kennedys, killed Marilyn, who threatened to expose her affairs with them. The other usual suspects were the CIA, the FBI and the Mafia, who killed her either to prevent her from disclosing top secret information or to discredit, frame and incriminate the Kennedys.

  There's absolutely no evidence that Greenson was Marilyn's lover. In any case, with no apparent motive, he would never have risked his career, reputation and life by murdering her. Noguchi had explained why there was no residue of pills or dye in Marilyn's digestive tract and stomach. But David Heymann, in a hostile and sensational attack on Robert Kennedy, argued with false logic that the lack of residue "proved" that Greenson not only gave her a fatal injection or enema, but also that "the attorney general of the United States very likely had conspired in the murder of his former lover." Some authors even claimed that Robert Kennedy actually smothered Marilyn with a pillow. By contrast, Noguchi convincingly argued that "Almost every allegation has been followed up and found to be without basis so far as the DA's office was concerned, ranging from the mysterious missing 'diary' to the 'doctor' who had administered a 'killing' shot."7

  Though the Kennedys did not kill Marilyn, they did attempt to hide their affairs with her. Newcomb has never revealed anything about her friendships with Marilyn or the Kennedys. Immediately after Marilyn's death, she was flown to the Kennedy compound on Cape Cod, sent on a long trip to Europe and then given a job at the United States Information Agency. Murray quickly disappeared on a long, gift-wrapped cruise around the world. But an FBI report of July 9, 1963, quoting the early release of a Photoplay magazine article of August 1963, said a "married man had an affair with Marilyn and 'caused' her suicide when he rejected her." The "clues" to the identity of her lover, obviously Robert Kennedy, were "that the man is happily married and has children; . . . that he is a great man, famous, known the world over; . . . and that he is considered a 'truly honorable man.'"

  Robert Kennedy's rejection was a factor in Marilyn's suicide. But the theory that the Kennedys were responsible for murdering her, because she was going to reveal top secret political information or expose their affairs with her, does not bear close examination. The Kennedys would never have discussed sensitive material with such an unstable and indiscreet woman (John didn't even have time for foreplay). And Marilyn's "secret knowledge" that Jimmy Hoffa was hostile to Robert and that Fidel Castro hated John was obvious to everyone.

  If the Kennedys were seriously worried about a sexual scandal involving Marilyn, they would not have kept the Oval Office tapes of their indiscreet conversations about her nor asked someone else to destroy her potentially damaging letters. The risk of killing her was infinitely greater than the risk of her revelations. Their affairs with her might actually have increased their prestige (as it increased Miller's) and helped rather than hurt their political careers. The Kennedys were also skilled at crisis management. If Marilyn had publicly revealed her affairs with John and Robert, they could have denied them. The public would not have believed the wild accusations of a suicidal woman, who'd recently been confined in a psychiatric hospital, against the word of the apparently honorable and happily married Kennedys. Most important, Marilyn, loyal to the Kennedys, conclusively told Greenson, "Bobby would do absolutely anything for his brother and so would I. I will never embarrass him."

  The Kennedys' chauffeur remembered the mood on Cape Cod when the family learned that Marilyn had died: "[On] the day we heard the news that Marilyn Monroe had been found dead in California, I remember the strange silence that came over everybody who was there. . . . It was such a curious reaction. . . . Years later, when the rumors came out about Marilyn Monroe and John Kennedy, and then Robert Kennedy, I remembered the silence that August afternoon."8 The Kennedys did not grieve for Marilyn, but felt guilty about the way they'd treated her and relieved that she was no longer a problem.

  III

  Greenson had much more reason to feel guilty. From the beginning of July until her suicide, he saw Marilyn almost every day. (She also had many medical problems and Engelberg saw her thirteen times during her last month.) Greenson's letters to his mother confessor, Anna Freud, written before Marilyn's deat
h and not mentioning her by name, were characteristically self-centered. He complained about his interrupted holiday in Europe and alluded to, but did not explain, her traumatic dismissal by Fox: "I had to interrupt my trip and return home alone because of the difficulties of one of my patients. Since I returned home she felt much better and was able to resume work. Nevertheless, the studio fired her the day after I returned for a variety of other reasons. This was a most frustrating experience, since now I was back home and she was feeling fine, but she no longer had to work and therefore I was free to return to Europe, which was impossible."

  Anna Freud, using the childlike euphemism "acting up," attempted to comfort him and (in contrast to Greenson) expressed concern about Marilyn: "I have tried to follow your fate in the newspapers and I saw that your patient was acting up. But I did not realize that this would interrupt your holiday and I do feel sorry for this. I wonder what will happen to her and with her. There must be something very nice about her from what I understood from Marianne Kris."

  Marilyn's suicide and his own failure were a personal loss as well as a public humiliation for Greenson. With hindsight and remembering her panic in Payne Whitney, he wrote Rosten, ten days after her death, "I should have played it safe and put her in a sanitarium, but that would have only been safe for me and deadly for her."9 Writing to Marianne Kris at the same time, Greenson admitted (after all their analytic sessions) that he had not been able to provide professional insights and had offered kindness instead of therapy:"I was her therapist, the good father who would not disappoint her and who would bring her insights, and if not insights, just kindness. I had become the most important person in her life. I also felt guilty that I put a burden on my own family. But there was something very lovable about this girl and we all cared about her and she could be delightful. . . . She was a poor creature I tried to help, and I ended up hurting her" – as Kris had done.

  On August 20, Greenson wrote again to Anna Freud. He admitted the all-too-obvious failure of his so-called "science." Then, shifting the blame from himself to the hypocritical world (that is, Hollywood), he focused as usual on his own tender feelings. He never mentioned, of course, that he and Engelberg had supplied the drugs that Marilyn had used to kill herself:

  This has been a terrible blow in many ways. I cared about her and she was my patient. She was so pathetic and she had had such a terrible life. I had hopes for her and I thought we were making progress. And now she died and I realize that all my knowledge and my desire and my strength were not enough. God knows I tried and mightily so, but I could not defeat all the destructive forces that had been stirred up in her by the terrible experiences of her past life. Sometimes I feel the world wanted her to die, or at least many people in the world, particularly those who after her death so conspicuously grieved and mourned. It makes me angry. But above all I feel sad and also disappointed. It is not just a blow to my pride, although I am sure that is present, but also a blow to my science of which I consider myself a good representative. But it will take me time to get over this and I know that eventually this will only become a scar. Some good friends have written to me some very kind letters and this helps me, but it hurts to remember; and yet it is only by remembering that I shall some day be able to forget it.

  In January 1963 Greenson, suffering from bronchitis and feeling lonely after his two children had moved out of his house, wrote Anna Freud about his current emotional state and mentioned that he'd had some informal therapy with two other mentors: "I personally am beginning to feel better and think that I have overcome the worst of my grief about Marilyn Monroe. I saw Marianne Kris and Max Schur in New York in a recent meeting and it was very helpful to talk to them." Finally, ten months after her death, Greenson announced that he was cured: "I have overcome my grief and depression about the M.M. affair."10

  In his collection of essays, Explorations in Psychoanalysis (1978), Greenson gave a patronizing and self-aggrandizing account of how he'd successfully treated a young woman. Though he never mentioned her name, readers were clearly meant to see that he was discussing Marilyn Monroe. He said she'd developed an exceptionally close and clinging relationship to him, but did not admit that he'd encouraged it in every possible way. He wrote that she'd tried to compensate for his forthcoming absence in Europe by choosing a primitive fetish to represent him:

  I told an emotionally immature young woman patient, who had developed a very dependent transference to me, that I was going to attend an International Congress in Europe some three months hence. We worked intensively on the multiple determinants of her clinging dependence, but made only insignificant progress. Then the situation changed dramatically when one day she announced that she had discovered something that would tide her over [during] my absence. It was not some insight, not a new personal relationship, it was a chess piece. The young woman had recently been given a gift of a carved ivory chess set. The evening before her announcement, as she looked at the set, through the sparkling light of a glass of champagne, it suddenly struck her that I looked like the white knight of her chess set. The realization immediately evoked in her a feeling of comfort, even triumph. The white knight was a protector, it belonged to her, she could carry it wherever she went, it would look after her, and I could go on my merry way to Europe without having to worry about her.

  He noted that Marilyn had used it as a good luck charm during her performance – evidently at John Kennedy's birthday party:

  The patient's major concern about the period of my absence was a public performance of great important to her professionally. She now felt confident of success because she could conceal her white knight in her handkerchief or scarf; she was certain he would protect her from nervousness, anxiety, or bad luck. I was relieved and delighted to learn, while in Europe, that her performance had indeed been a smashing success.

  But her sense of security was tenuous, and she needed the magical presence of her analyst:

  Shortly thereafter, however, I received several panicky transatlantic telephone calls from her. The patient had lost the white knight and was beside herself with terror and gloom, like a child who has lost her security blanket. A colleague of mine who saw her in that interval said that all his interventions were to no avail and he reluctantly suggested that I cut short my trip and return. I hated to interrupt my vacation and I doubted whether my return would be beneficial. Surprisingly, it was. I no sooner saw her than her anxiety and depression lifted. It then became possible to work for many months on how she used me as a good luck charm rather than [as] an analyst.

  The talisman, the chess piece, served her as a magical means of averting bad luck or evil. It protected her against losing something precious.11

  Turning the "science" of psychoanalysis into a bit of mumbojumbo, Greenson concluded that the incongruous fetish, a shining white knight, protected her from "losing something precious" – the analyst himself. This story seems to be a self-serving fantasy. Marilyn did not go in for chess and never mentioned the chess piece, and she was not clutching it during her performance. If the story were true, Greenson did not consider that Marilyn might have deliberately lost the white knight in order to free herself from his bondage. In fact, as he well knew, the fetish neither averted evil nor protected her against losing something else that was far more precious – her very life. His essay never mentioned that the anonymous patient killed herself while under his care.

  IV

  DiMaggio flew down from San Francisco to make the funeral arrangements. He still loved Marilyn, who looked absolutely ghastly after the autopsy, and sat up all night in a morbid death watch, gazing into the open coffin and clasping her fingers in a final farewell. The simple funeral took place on August 9 in the small Westwood Memorial Park at 1218 Glendon Avenue, now hidden away behind the tall buildings on Wilshire Boulevard. The thirty-one mourners were DiMaggio, his sidekick George Solotaire and Joe, Jr. (in his Marine dress uniform); Marilyn's half-sister Berniece Miracle; Lee and Paula Strasberg; the Greensons and their tw
o grown children. From Marilyn's Los Angeles past were her sometime foster parents, the Knebelcamps; Fred Karger's mother and sister; and her acting teacher Lotte Goslar. The rest were all on her payroll: Murray and Newcomb, two lawyers, business manager and her husband, make-up man with his wife and daughter, three hairdressers, masseur, secretary, chauffeur and maid. Sinatra and the Lawfords were particularly excluded. When the Hollywood lawyer protested that DiMaggio was keeping out a lot of important studio executives, directors and stars, Joe bitterly said, "Tell them if it wasn't for them, she'd still be here." When Marilyn's mother (institutionalized yet again) heard of her death, she also blamed Hollywood and disingenuously said, "I never wanted her to become an actress."

  At the service the Lutheran minister from a Westwood church read Psalm 23: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want"; John 14: "Let your heart not be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions. . . . I go to prepare a place for you"; Psalm 46: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear"; and the especially apt Psalm 139: "I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well." Lee Strasberg delivered the brief but touching eulogy. To comfort the mourners he called Marilyn's death an accident, and described her as "a warm human being, impulsive and shy, sensitive and in fear of rejection, yet ever avid for life and reaching out for fulfillment. . . . She had a luminous quality – a combination of wistfulness, radiance, yearning – to set her apart and yet make everyone wish to be part of it, to share in the childish naïveté which was at once so shy and yet so vibrant."12 The coffin was carried across the wide lawn and placed in crypt 24 in The Corridor of Memories.