Marilyn had the director of her own choosing, George Cukor, and the leading man of her choice, Dean Martin. She had Jean Louis creating her costumes. Her personal makeup man Whitey Snyder was on hand, as was MGM’s Sydney Guilaroff, who gave her hair a flattering bouffanty flip and a stunning new platinum color. What she didn’t have was the will to fight the demons that would keep her off the set for sixteen of the first seventeen days of filming. She would blame a slew of maladies for her nonappearance: sinusitis, insomnia, virus, loss of voice, physical exhaustion. The studio engaged three doctors to remain on the set daily—an ear, nose, and throat specialist, an internist, and a psychiatrist.
To watch the DVD of the documentary Marilyn: Something’s Got to Give—a comprehensive look at the making of this movie—is difficult, made more so when one considers what Marilyn’s life and career might have been had she not been so bedeviled with self-doubt, insecurities, unhappy relationships, paranoia, despondency, and drug dependency. Remarkably, though, Cukor was able to get a few excellent sequences on film, and Marilyn was—and this is without exaggeration—more beautiful, more appealing… indeed more Marilyn Monroe, than ever. How she always looked so ravishing on film despite the nightmare of her private life remained, until the very end, one of the biggest mysteries about her. In fact, she dropped eighteen pounds before appearing on this set for makeup and costume tests, and as a result her figure was astonishingly young and toned. Of course, she was off her medication, which accounted for some of the weight loss (not to mention some of the problems she had on the set). Her trim figure gave her much more confidence. She was playful, like a little girl, as she posed for the camera in some of the outfits designed for her by Jean Louis. She walked with a new elegance. It’s quite amazing to see. The test footage was included in the documentary mentioned previously. Also included are the scenes Cukor shot. Indeed, for years it was thought that there was nothing left of the film, but in 1982 in a cluttered studio warehouse, eight boxes of raw film were discovered, some of its color faded, but in good enough condition to be useful. Some forty years after Fox fired Marilyn and closed down production, the studio salvaged thirty-seven minutes of film time and included some of it in the documentary, which was shown as a television special.
What also has to be stated about this production is how cooperative Marilyn was on the days that she did show up. Certainly her selection of Cukor as director was one she regretted. She knew he was a good director and respected his work, but she also knew that he didn’t have much regard for her, so in a sense it was very brave of her to hire him. Given that she had approved of Cukor as director of Let’s Make Love two years earlier, one would have to wonder why she would repeat that experience with him. “The mother was mad, and poor Marilyn was mad,” he would later say of her. After she realized she would have a problem with Cukor, she tried to bring in screenplay writer Nunnally Johnson to replace him, but to no avail. “But the girl was neurotic beyond description,” Johnson would recall. “Even if they were nutty enough to let me take George’s place, two weeks later something would happen and she would come to hate me as much as she hated him. Marilyn kept retreating farther and farther from reality.” In the end, Cukor had Marilyn doing the most ridiculous scenes over and over—such as one with a dog that would amount to just a few seconds in the final product. Her time could have been so much better utilized. Even in scenes where she was shot from behind—where her stand-in, Evelyn Moriarty, could easily have done the work—Cukor insisted that Marilyn be present and on set to do take after take after take. Never once did she lose her temper, though.
Incidentally, 20th Century-Fox made the aborted film the following year with Doris Day and James Garner filling the Marilyn and Dean roles, and a new name, Move Over, Darling. What’s funny about this finished film is that in scenes where Marilyn was dressed in the finest of cocktail dresses with the most bouffant of hairstyles, Doris is seen in blue jeans with her hair pulled back in an ordinary ponytail—thus the personality differences between two great actresses, Misses Monroe and Day.
Marilyn’s Fascination with the President
It’s safe to say that Marilyn’s mind wasn’t really on Something’s Got to Give, even though she tried to do her best. Since her weekend in Palm Springs with him, Marilyn Monroe seemed to have only one preoccupation—President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. On the basis of newly assembled information it’s clear that she wanted to see him again. Rupert Allan recalled, “All I know is that she seemed fixated on the president. It started to become unclear as to what was going on between them, even though I thought it wasn’t much. She was acting like she wanted more, though.” One Secret Service agent working for the Kennedy administration added, “She was calling, or trying to call him. A lot. She wanted to see him. She made that clear. Everyone knew it.”
It’s certainly not difficult to understand why Marilyn invested so quickly in President Kennedy. Suffering from borderline paranoid schizophrenia, she obviously had severe bouts of paranoia. We know she was being followed by the FBI. There may have been other political eccentrics after her too, just based on her affiliation with Arthur Miller. How could she not be concerned? In JFK, perhaps she thought she had found the ultimate of protectors. After all, he was a man who was in control of the entire nation’s defense department. If there was anyone in the world who could protect her from real or imagined enemies, it had to be John Fitzgerald Kennedy. He was, bar none, the most powerful man she had ever met. The other noted men in her life—DiMaggio and Miller—had personal presence. Their power was in how they ruled a room—how people would react to them in a social situation. However, Kennedy was powerful on a global scale. He didn’t command a room—he commanded the world.
In understanding Marilyn Monroe’s overnight obsession with JFK, one has to also remember that she was a woman who was, above all things, scared when she was alone. Unfortunately, the circumstances of her life had arranged themselves so that she was, for the most part, by herself. There’s little doubt that by 1962, the choices she was making were out of fear. They were made when she was by herself, alone in the dark, scared of what was to happen to her, what new ordeal she would face with the rising of the morning sun. If Dr. Greenson felt she would trust Eunice Murray, he was wrong. Years later, even Murray herself would have to admit that she didn’t know a thing about the Kennedys in Marilyn’s life, even though she was living right there in the house with her and snooping about trying to gather information. The people Marilyn trusted were people such as Pat Newcomb, her publicist—and she wasn’t always sure about her, either—Joe DiMaggio; Pat Kennedy Lawford; maybe Pat’s husband, Peter; Ralph Roberts; and a few others. She’d kept a tight circle and her world was becoming even smaller in 1962. Even her half sister, Berniece, was on the outside looking in at this point. Lately, when the two talked on the phone, it was superficial. There’s little doubt that Marilyn felt she needed help—maybe on some level she felt JFK could be her savior. Also, there was obviously a certain level of respect that could be achieved by such an association. Unfortunately, she would be the least of President Kennedy’s concerns. He wasn’t even returning her calls to the White House.
Frank Sinatra’s friend and valet George Jacobs enjoyed many conversations with JFK back when the president felt comfortable at the Sinatra home. “I spent enough time with the man to know that no woman, not even his wife, was sacred to him. His need was like that of Alexander the Great, to conquer the world. To him Marilyn was one more conquest, a trophy—maybe the Great White Shark of Hollywood, but still a record, not a romance.”
“Jack was pretty much done with her after Palm Springs,” said Senator George Smathers [Democrat of Florida], Kennedy’s good friend. “I think he only saw her one more time, and that was when she came into Washington unexpectedly and we—he, I, and a few others—including Hubert Humphrey, if you can imagine it, took her sailing on a motorboat down the Potomac River. Marilyn and Hubert Humphrey—now that was funny. The two of them didn’t have much
to say to each other. We got back at 11:30 at night. She didn’t stay at the White House, she stayed somewhere else. There was no hanky-panky between her and JFK that night, I know because I asked him the next day and he would have happily said so. But, anyway, Jackie knew about that trip. In fact, we were dancing at a White House ball and she said to me, ‘Don’t think I’m naïve to what you and Jack are doing with all those pretty girls—like Marilyn—sailing on the Potomac under the moonlight. It’s all so sophomoric, George.’
“Jackie was accustomed to Kennedy’s indiscretions, but this one bothered her. She knew from what she’d heard and read that Marilyn was a troubled woman. ‘Have some pity’ on her, she said, according to what he later told me. It wasn’t so much that she was angry as it was that she was just disgusted. So, Jack told me, ‘It’s not worth it, George. I have a free ride here with Jackie. She gives me great latitude. So, if this one is going to be an issue for her and cause me other problems with respect to her dealing with the other women I am interested in, then, fine, I can live without this one. I can live without Marilyn Monroe. No problem. So, look, let’s just end it with Marilyn before it’s too late.’
“I was surprised. I knew Jackie had influence but not that much influence, not so much that she could cause the end of the president’s relationship with a movie star. But, apparently, she did. So I called someone I knew, a friend of Marilyn’s I could trust, and I said, ‘Look, I need you to put a bridle on Marilyn’s mouth and stop her from talking so much about what’s going on with Jack. It’s starting to get around too much.’ That’s all I did to end things, my little contribution. But I know what Jack did. He stopped taking her calls, if he ever took any. As far as he was concerned, he was done with her. But, Marilyn… well, she wouldn’t be so easily rid of, let’s put it that way.”
“If Kennedy had handled Marilyn differently, things might not have turned out so badly,” said Rupert Allan. “But just ducking her as he did. Not good.”
Moreover, JFK had apparently issued somewhat of a challenge to Marilyn in Palm Springs. George Smathers recalled: “JFK told me that they were talking about one thing or another and he happened to say something to her like, ‘You’re not really First Lady material, anyway, Marilyn.’ He said it really stuck in her craw. She didn’t like hearing that.”
Kennedy never actually told Marilyn that he was finished with her and that whatever he shared with her in Palm Springs would be the extent of their relationship. As sources now indicate, he simply did not return her calls to the White House. It should also be noted, in his defense, that the man was running the country. He had other things on his mind. Marilyn, however, had him on her mind. “Marilyn was a very obsessive and neurotic person,” said Diane Stevens. “She was mentally ill, let’s face it. She was on drugs and not thinking clearly and just went over the edge when it came to this man and, truly, I do not know why. It had just been a weekend, after all. But for some reason, it became, looking back on it now, the catalyst to her total ruination. The fact that he would not return her calls drove her mad.”
Marilyn’s Surprise Visit to Pat
Pat Kennedy Lawford had never before had a surprise visit from Marilyn, but on April 8, a couple of weeks after Marilyn’s weekend with her brother Jack, she showed up unannounced. “Marilyn was cheery and upbeat,” recalls a friend of Lawford’s who was present. “She was wearing an orange silk blouse and black slacks and a matching black scarf with cat-eye sunglasses. I thought she looked absolutely marvelous. I know she told Pat that she had been trying to call but her phone was busy.”
Pat may have suspected that there was a reason for Marilyn’s visit. Earlier, her brother-in-law Bobby called to ask her a series of cryptic questions about Marilyn. Had she seen her? What had she been talking about? Did she mention Jack? Of course, Pat wanted to know what the interrogation was really about. Bobby then told her that Marilyn had been calling the public number to the White House. Since that phone was mainly a message center for the executive branch, not a reliable way to actually speak to the president, Marilyn never got through. JFK, however, did hear about her numerous calls. “Pat was immediately suspicious,” says Pat Brennan. “She asked Bobby why Marilyn would be trying to call Jack. He didn’t have much of an answer. She knew something had happened, and she anticipated the worst. She made a few calls and it didn’t take her long to find out what had happened in Palm Springs. She wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that much.”
According to a friend of Pat’s who was present that day, Marilyn “bounced onto the beach,” while Pat was on the sand winning an intensely competitive game of volleyball, leaping and flailing about without peer on her team. She stopped playing and walked over to Marilyn to embrace her. After a few minutes of small talk with Pat remaining uncharacteristically quiet, Marilyn brought up the subject of her brother, Jack. She said that Pat had been right, her brother did have a powerful presence. Pat just stared at Marilyn.
The full details of this tense conversation between Marilyn and Pat remain unknown because the two went into the house, alone. What is known—because Pat later disclosed it—is that Marilyn finally asked Pat for her brother’s direct phone number at the White House. Pat refused to give it to her, explaining that the only number she had for him in Washington was his personal number, or as she called it, “his family number.”
Marilyn backed off the topic a few times, but always returned to it. This obsession about Jack’s number frustrated Pat, who later said she had “never seen Marilyn so hyper and manic.” Finally, when Marilyn asked if Pat thought her brother was happily married, Pat reached her breaking point. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she said, grabbing a pen and paper. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this.” She wrote down a number and handed the paper to Marilyn. After taking it, Marilyn asked Pat if she were angry at her. Without specifically addressing what she now knew happened in Palm Springs between her friend and her brother, Pat was still able to be painfully clear. According to what she later recalled, Pat said, “I can get past it. You and I will be able to continue our friendship. But my family? My sisters and my sisters-in-law? I don’t know… I just don’t know.”
It’s not known if Marilyn used the number she got from Pat Kennedy Lawford to call President Kennedy’s private residence. However, something did occur at this same time that suggests that she may have done so, for it was in the spring of 1962 that Kennedy dispatched his attorney general, Bobby Kennedy, to inform Marilyn that she was not to call the White House. Also, he was told to make it clear that the relationship—or whatever it was she thought she had with him—was over, and that she should move on with her life. Bobby gave Marilyn the message.
An Overdose Because of JFK?
On April 10, 1962, Marilyn Monroe was scheduled to meet with the screenwriter of Something’s Got to Give, Henry Weinstein. The day before, while at Fox for makeup and costume tests, she looked absolutely beautiful and performed quite well for many hours. However, for her follow-up meeting with Weinstein, she was late. That wasn’t surprising. When he telephoned her to find out when she might be arriving, he was alarmed to find that there was no answer. After repeated attempts, she finally picked up the phone. “Oh, I’m just fine…” she told him. However, she didn’t sound “fine” to him at all. Her voice was slurred and she seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Alarmed, Weinstein told her that he would be right over and hung up. Then he called Dr. Greenson and the two rushed to Marilyn’s Brentwood home. There they found her in bed, out cold.
“She was almost naked,” Weinstein recalled. “And she was almost dead, as far as I could see. She was at least in a drug coma. I couldn’t imagine what it was that had happened, why she did this to herself. The fact that she had been so upbeat one day and then in this state the next day was very disconcerting. Somehow, Dr. Greenson revived her. I was so shaken, I could not get over it. He kept coming over to me and saying, ‘Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.’ It was as if he had see
n this so many times, he was not alarmed by it. But for me, it was traumatic.”
Later, it was determined that Marilyn had taken what could have amounted to a deadly combination of Nembutal, Demerol, chloral hydrate, and Librium. “Immediately afterward, I tried to get Fox to delay the movie. I said, ‘Look, this girl is in no shape to make a movie. She needs time. She’s very sick. She has severe mental problems.’ The studio said, ‘No. The movie goes on. If we had stopped production of a film every time Marilyn Monroe had a crisis, we would never have gotten a single movie out of her.’
“I don’t think I ever got over the shock of finding her that way,” said Weinstein. “You don’t get past something like that easily. I spent hours trying to understand what had gone so wrong. I thought, well, [George] Cukor hadn’t shown up to direct the costume tests the day before and maybe she was unhappy about that. Maybe she thought it was a slap in the face, or a rejection. But… I don’t know… it had to be something more.”
It was something more. One source who was close to Marilyn Monroe at that time and who asked for anonymity rather than risk the possibility of retaliation from any member of the Kennedy family summed it up this way: “JFK. That’s what was wrong. She’d just been jilted by the president of the United States. Do you really think that after all she’d been through with moviemaking she was going to try to kill herself because a director hadn’t shown up for a day’s work at the studio? It was Kennedy. That’s why. Kennedy.”
Were Marilyn and Bobby “The New Item”?
It was clear to Marilyn that President John Kennedy was finished with her. There wasn’t much she could do about it, especially since he was not going to take her calls. However, a very popular story concerning Marilyn and the Kennedys claims the following: When Bobby told Marilyn Jack was done with her, he couldn’t help himself and he, too, ended up falling for her. The two then had a passionate affair and Marilyn felt more strongly about him than she had about his brother. This scenario has been repeated in countless books over the years by many respected historians. Could this have happened? Were these people just that capricious and, dare it be said, foolish? Well, actually, in many ways, they were… but, that said, it simply doesn’t appear to be true. New research now reveals that Bobby, who—at least at first—apparently decided to not be quite as coldhearted as his brother, felt sorry about the way Marilyn had been treated. He had enjoyed the times he met her, thought she was witty and intelligent as well as beautiful, and didn’t feel the need to be cruel to her. “I think he told her, look, don’t call the White House, call me,” said the veteran entertainer Andy Williams, who was one of RFK’s best friends. “Bob was that way. He was a compassionate person. He wasn’t a jerk. He had no reason to be mean to the poor woman. I mean, why would he do that? What was the harm in giving her a friendly shoulder to lean on when she was in so much trouble?”
The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe Page 44