Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet

by Darwin Porter

  Right in front of James, Nick confessed that his friend would take much kinkier offers when both of them “hustled the queers along Santa Monica Boulevard.”

  “I turn down a lot of queens, but Jimmy here will go for anything,” Nick claimed. Merv glanced over at James who did not seem in the least embarrassed at this revelation. “One night this weirdo wanted to eat my shit,” Nick said. “I told him to ‘fuck off,’ but Jimmy went off with the creep in his car.”

  “Why not?” James said with a devilish bad boy look. “I hadn't had a good crap all day.”

  When Merv reunited with Johnny Riley, he would give him a blowbyblow description of the approximately two and a half weeks he spent in the company of Nick Adams and James Dean in the months leading up to their getting cast in Rebel Without a Cause. “I had to borrow fivehundred dollars from Bullets to pay the freight, but it was worth every penny. Nick had the bigger endowment but Jimmy was better at lovemaking. It was the best sex I've ever had, even if I did have to pay for it.”

  ***

  The night of the big Sunday night bash at Jack Warner's was imminent, and Merv still didn't have a royal to escort to the party. Jack had warned him, “Don't show up with some lowrent piece of shit. Make sure she has a title. There will be plenty of royalty at my dinner, class acts who are visiting our town when they're not ruling over kingdoms in the east. Got that, Griff?”

  Frantically searching his mind, Merv remembered that he'd once “dated” a woman named Lorraine Manville, the heiress to the Johns-Manville asbestos fortune and the sister of the muchmarried playboy Tommy Manville, who was always making headlines. Her brother had become a minor celebrity. In all, he'd eventually entered into 13 marriages to 11 women, winning him an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records.

  Merv vaguely recalled that Lorraine had been married to some minor European count or something, which might mean that she could dust off her former title for the evening. When he called her, she told him that she had another engagement that night but was willing to cancel it, since she considered the Jack Warner affair the hottest ticket in Los Angeles.

  Once again Merv borrowed a car from Peter Lawford to drive to Jack Warner's mansion for the grandest party he'd ever attended in Hollywood. As he recalled it, it was all flowing champagne and crystal bowls of caviar, with lots of minor European royalty, the stiffcollared men in tuxedos and the heavily coiffed ladies crowning their heads with diamond tiaras By request from Jack Warner, all the women were dressed either in black or white, perhaps a combination of the two.

  As the butler was taking Lorraine's white sable, Merv felt a strong hand on his shoulder. “Griff, so glad you could make it.” It was Jack Warner himself.

  Merv introduced the studio chief to the Countess Lorraine Dumanceaux, using her former title.

  “Glad to meet you, countess, but I regret to inform you, babycakes, that you're outranked tonight.” He reached for the arm of a stunningly glamorous woman en route to the bathroom. “May I introduce Princess Aly Khan.”

  Rita Hayworth appeared before them looking as glamorous as she had in any of her screen appearances. She was one of Merv's alltime favorite movie stars from the 1940s. He'd seen Gilda three times. At one of Roddy McDowall's parties, he'd once put on a red wig and had performed an imitation of her “Put the Blame on Mame” number from that film.

  At the dinner table, Lorraine was seated across from Merv, Rita by his side. He had little chance to talk to her, since she was busy being fawned over by other guests sitting near her and directing questions at her.

  Jack presided at the head of a long table worthy of one of the Rothschilds. It was set with Steuben glassware, antique silver, and gold and silver candelabra, everything lit by soft candlelight. Like an old time silent screen movie director, perhaps Erich von Stroheim, Jack shouted orders to his butlers and waiters. At the same time he managed to keep up a running dialogue about the filming of Casablanca. “That Ingrid Bergman looks so virginal on the screen, but Alfred Hitchcock told me she'd fuck a tree,” Jack claimed.

  At the end of the dinner, Jack rose to his feet. “I hope your worships…” he paused. “I hope you enjoyed this little spread we put out before you.” The dinner guests clapped their approval. “Now it's time for the men to have some cigars and brandy and talk about their whores, while you ladies go and take a big piss.”

  Leaving Lorraine and Rita to talk to each other with absolutely nothing in common, Jack grabbed Merv's arm and took him on a tour of what Jack called “my waxworks,” borrowing a designation from the film, Sunset Blvd., wherein a bevy of geriatric silent screen stars arrived at the home of Norma Desmond as played by Gloria Swanson.

  “I lost count — get it? — after being introduced to six counts,” Merv said. “There were also nine countesses and at least three duchesses. I kept looking for the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, or at least the Queen of England, but they were noshows. I did get to meet Princess Fawzia and even the Queen Mother Nawzli. Who in the fuck were they? I had no idea what kingdoms they presided over.”

  Hopefully out of earshot of royalty, Jack in a too-loud voice told Merv, “I'm farting countesses and duchesses out my ass.”

  After dinner, Lorraine attached herself to a minor count, perhaps a future husband, and wandered off into the evening, forgetting about Merv. He didn't want to join the men for cigars, brandy, and talk about Las Vegas prostitutes—it wasn't his kind of thing—so he wandered aimlessly to the deserted terrace, enjoying the night air and a break from all this royalty and pretension.

  From the main room, he heard Jack announce that “the hot Scot with the lovable larynx” was going to sing.” Merv knew that meant his rival, Gordon MacRae. Apparently, Jack and Gordon had made up after one of the singer's drunken bouts.

  Rita Hayworth

  “My husbands fell in love

  with Gilda,

  and ended up marrying me:”

  Merv had avoided Gordon all evening and didn't want to hear him sing, so he remained on the terrace. It was hard for him to admit it, but he was jealous of Gordon's accomplishments and his success on The Railroad Hour, which was attracting 12.5 million listeners every week. Sales of Gordon's records were soaring, and at least one heavy bag of fan mail arrived for Gordon on the Warner's lot every day. Most of the letters were from female bobbysoxers, but a lot of the mail was from homosexual men attracted to the good looks and rugged virility of the star.

  Newspapers had reported that Gordon's threeweek appearance on the stage of New York's Strand Theater, where Merv had appeared, attracted audiences of a size unknown since Frank Sinatra had appeared there before his own screaming bobbysoxers during the war years.

  Still on the terrace, Merv felt depressed listening to Gordon's powerful voice. He asked himself, “How can I compete with that?” The smell of an intoxicating perfume distracted him, and he turned around to stare into the beautiful, cameraready face of Rita Hayworth.

  They chatted pleasantly about nothing important for the first fifteen minutes. In person Rita was not Gilda, the sexy siren and sultry, flamehaired beauty who'd enthralled the world. She appeared sweet natured and rather homey, at least for a screen goddess and a princess. He'd read all about her fairytale marriage to Prince Aly Khan, the son of the Aga Khan III, the leader of the Ismaili sect of Shia Islam. From what he'd gathered that fairytale had turned into a grim nightmare.

  “I'm back in Hollywood trying for a comeback,” she confided. “Glenn [a reference to actor Glenn Ford] tried to recreate Gilda when we made Affair in Trinidad, but that old black magic just wasn't there. Reviewers called it a retread.”

  “I enjoyed it, and I thought you looked lovely,” he falsely claimed.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You won't believe the latest script Joseph Mankiewicz offered me. It's a turkey called The Barefoot Contessa. The female lead is named Maria Vargas, but she might as well be Rita Hayworth. It's a ripoff of my own life. Mankiewicz stupidly thought I'd play myself in the film. I told him t
o give it to Ava Gardner.”

  “Sorry to hear about your marriage to the prince,” he said. “You two looked like such a great couple.”

  “Oh, well, he spent too many days at the race track with his thoroughbreds and too many nights in the beds of other women,” she said, sighing.

  At one point Merv said, “I've always wanted to meet Rita Hayworth if only to put one question to her.”

  “Do you mean how's Glenn Ford in the sack?”

  “No, not that,” he said. “What did it feel like when you learned that your likeness was stamped on the first atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima?”

  “I'd say that was quite a blast.”

  At that point, Jack Warner emerged onto the terrace, obviously looking for Rita to bring her back into the party to be photographed with him. “I've been looking everywhere for you, gal.” He possessively took her arm.

  “Jack, I'll meet you inside,” she said, “after I've repaired my face. After all, it's not 1944 anymore.”

  The studio chief remained behind. “Griff, I've been watching you out of the corner of my eye all night. I like the way you handle yourself. If only you could sing as great as Gordon. But you can't and that's that. However, just for the hell of it, I'm casting you as the lead in a big movie musical, maybe the biggest to come along in some time.”

  “You mean opposite Doris Day in her next picture?”

  “Not quite,” he said. “Doris stupidly turned down the picture. I'm giving the part to Kathryn Grayson.”

  “But she's starring in The Desert Songwith Gordon MacRae,” Merv said.

  “She's going to drop Gordon in her next picture and star with you,” Jack said. “You're gonna be big, really big. You're on your way up, Griff. Now get into my living room and sing for your supper. My guests are getting restless. Gordon did only one number. I want you to do three.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Warner,” Merv said, eagerly shaking his hand. “Thanks for giving me my big break. I can't wait to read the script.”

  “Now get in there and sing ‘I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts,’” Jack said. “I love that song. And, Griff, if you fuck up this big Grayson picture, I'll personally cut off your balls. Got that, kid?”

  “I got you,” Merv said, fleeing from the terrace and heading back into the party to entertain movie stars and mostly faux royalty.

  Jack Warner with real Hollywood royalty:

  Joan Crawford (left) and Bette Davis

  Chapter Five

  Someone in the administration at Warner Brothers had told Merv that a finished script of So This is Love wouldn't be ready for another two weeks, and that until then, he could go to Hawaii or anywhere else he wanted.

  Soon after, Merv embarked for Honolulu on a ticket paid for by Monty Clift, probably wishing that he was flying there as a player in From Here to Eternity, and not just for a social call on an unreliable friend on his film set.

  In Honolulu, brandishing a pot of espresso and a bottle of Scotch, Monty greeted Merv at the airport. He was staggering drunk and dressed as the soldier boy, Prewitt, the character that he played in From Here to Eternity. In a taxi on the way back to Monty's temporary rental, Merv realized that psychologically, the actor had virtually become Prewitt. He was living, breathing, sleeping, and eating the role. When asked a simple question, Monty would respond: “How would Prewitt answer that?” Before they arrived at the hotel, Monty confessed, “My character of Prewitt fucks me every night. I've become his bitch.”

  At Monty's apartment, Merv was introduced to James Jones, the author of the original novel, From Here to Eternity, upon which the film was based. Merv assumed that the writer was Monty's new lover. Jones exuded a macho sexuality in his tightfitting blue jeans, even tighter, formfitting white Tshirt, and a thick cowhide belt dyed a bright orange and held together by a silver Navajo buckle.

  The author had witnessed the actual attack on Pearl Harbor when he was twenty years old. He'd later faced combat in Guadalcanal where he was wounded in action. James's second novel, Some Came Running, would also be filmed. Like Eternity, it too would star Frank Sinatra.

  When Monty went to shower and get ready to give Merv a tour of Honolulu, Merv chatted amicably with Jones. “So how's your affair with Monty going?” he bluntly asked.

  “There is no affair,” Jones said. “For one reason and one reason only. He hasn't asked me. I'm willing. But he hasn't even admitted he's a homosexual.”

  James Jones:

  “If only Monty

  had asked”

  During the course of the evening, Jones told Merv that one of the reasons he was “hanging with Monty is to see that he gets through the picture. This movie means a lot to me even though that fucking Fred Zinnemann didn't use my version. Monty starts drinking at nine in the morning. By five in the afternoon, I often have to carry him bodily off the set.”

  On the second day on the set, Merv was introduced to the female star of the picture, a very ladylike Deborah Kerr. “I'm surrounded by men,” she said. “All of them are a bit macho for me. I find Burt Lancaster very sexy, but so does everybody else. What woman in her right mind would say no to him? Or man for that matter. He's equally attractive to both sexes. As for Monty, I feel very protective of him. He came on strong to me, but I turned him down. I know he wants to love women, but sexually, he's attracted only to men. Sigh.”

  They were interrupted by the appearance of Burt Lancaster, who was dressed in a military uniform. Very politely Deborah introduced Merv to her costar, not knowing they'd already met. Burt recalled meeting him when he'd escorted Joan Crawford to Zinnemann's office.

  After some pleasant chitchat, Deborah excused herself to keep an appointment with her hairdresser. She told Burt to pick her up at eight o'clock that evening. After she'd gone, Burt flashed his toothy smile and invited Merv to go with him to a nearby gym for a workout.

  At the gym, Burt confessed, “Zinnemann cast me as the film's beefcake. Christ, Frank Sinatra and Montgomery Clift look like they were just released from Auschwitz.”

  Burt had been cast as Sergeant Warden, “a man among men,” who rallied his troops on the morning of December 7, 1941 as planes from the Empire of Japan rained unexpected hell down upon Pearl Harbor.

  “Would you believe I was only second choice for the role I'm playing? Zinnemann, that prick, preferred Robert Mitchum. And instead of your buddy, Monty, Harry Cohn wanted Aldo Ray. And for the role being played by Sinatra, Cohn wanted Eli Wallach.”

  Burt stripped off all his clothes and asked Merv to hold his ankles to the floor as he did pushups. Merv was only too willing, enjoying the view of Burt's penis as it bobbed up and down with his pushups. “I think he was teasing me, and I guess it was obvious that he had my full attention, but I knew I'd have to bide my time,” he later told Roddy.

  Burt Lancaster

  Burt had a longestablished preference for working out in the gym in the nude during the late afternoon. When word of that spread around the set, every homosexual on the crew made up some excuse to visit the gym at five o'clock. As Merv later revealed, “Burt put on quite a show, especially in the shower when he paid extra attention to soaping up his genitals for a most appreciative audience.”

  After the gym, Burt invited Merv for a few drinks.

  With liquor loosening his tongue, Burt admitted what had been obvious to Merv earlier that afternoon. “I'm having this thing with Deborah,” Burt confessed. “We're getting ready for our scene on the beach with the waves washing up on our bodies. A scene like that takes a lot of rehearsals.” He laughed at his own remark. “Tell you what: If she's busy one night, I'll give you your chance.” He said that in such a matteroffact tone that Merv was stunned. The reference to sex was presented in the same voice Burt had used when inviting Merv for a beer.

  It wasn't until his last night in Honolulu that Merv finally got lucky. After a final workout in the gym, Burt showered and invited Merv back to his hotel where they had a couple of drinks. In his suite, Burt confessed that his
affair with Deborah was over. “It only lasted for the run of the movie. There will be other films to be made. Other pussies to conquer.”

  Suddenly, Burt stood up from his armchair and began to strip off his clothing in front of Merv. “You've been a great gym buddy, and it's been fun being with you. You deserve a reward, and I'm going to see that you get it. You've seen me soft many times, and I'm sure you've encountered a lot bigger looking. Now for your surprise: I'm a grower, not a shower. Come and get it, kid.”

  After Burt had climaxed, the actor told him, “When the world sees me on that beach making love to Deborah, no one will ever believe all those gay rumors about me ever again.” Merv noted that he said gay instead of homosexual. The sexual (and sociological) meaning of the word had just come into vogue.

  After Merv's return to Los Angeles, one of his first calls was to Roddy McDowall. “It finally happened. I've had Burt in all his uncut glory. He really enjoyed it too. This is the beginning of a great romance. I just know it.”

  “Don't get your hopes up,” Roddy warned him. “Burt is fickle and very promiscuous.”

  Merv's friend turned out to be a prophet. When Merv phoned Burt the next day, the actor responded with, “It was great, kid, but it's over. Burt Lancaster doesn't do sequels.”

  ***

  In Hawaii, and in a pattern that would repeat itself throughout the rest of his life, it became increasingly obvious that Monty was addicted to a wide spectrum of drugs. Along with his daily bottle of Scotch, he swallowed barbiturates and tranquilizers like they were peanuts. Merv was increasingly alarmed by Monty's physical and mental deterioration, despite the fact that he seemed to be making the greatest film of his career.

  During the filming of From Here to Eternity, Monty had found the ideal drinking partner in Frank Sinatra. “They didn't just drink,” Merv said, “they poured it down their throats. It was frightening. Both of them seemed to want to drink themselves into oblivion. Monty was still conflicted over his sexual preference, and Frank drank because his marriage to Ava Gardner was in its death throes.”