The atmosphere, Louella recalled, was brisk, noisy, and brimming with excitement. Honking autos jammed the streets, throngs of hurried pedestrians pushed and shoved one another on the crowded sidewalks, and throughout the city rang the constant clang-clang-clang of perpetual construction-bridges, streets, apartments, and skyscrapers, which during the 192os were being built at a fast and furious pace. Not only was New York growing by leaps and bounds as a steady stream of migrants from Europe and rural America flooded into the city, it was advancing culturally, commercially, and artistically in ways unprecedented in American history. With its nightclubs and theater, its avant-garde literary and artistic scene, its thriving intellectual community and multimillion-dollar advertising and publishing industries, New York was leading the nation into a new consumerand leisure-oriented modern age. Louella had stepped into-and indeed, would become an important contributor to-a media-driven, style-conscious culture that had elevated the power of images and image making to new and dizzying heights.
In her autobiography, Louella claimed that she arrived in New York as a poor war widow, lonely, jobless, and with a growing child to feed. She allegedly showed up on the doorstep of her brother, Eddie, who-after chastising her for moving to New York, a "tough town"-agreed to put her up while she looked for a job and a place of her own. Two weeks later, she moved into an apartment with Harriet and a housekeeper named "Jennie Mattocks," who had supposedly accompanied her from the Midwest. The happy trio would continue the life they had started in Chicago, with "Jennie" playing surrogate mother to Harriet while Louella worked.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Eddie, who had married and was by then a father, never moved to New York but stayed in Chicago. Meanwhile, Louella, Harriet, Maggie Oettinger, and "Jennie Mattocks" (the pseudonym Louella used for Helen) pooled their meager funds and squeezed into a small apartment on 116th Street. McCaffrey may have joined them briefly, but he and Louella fought because he "wasn't taking his rightful place in the family," according to one acquaintance. In Louella's eyes, McCaffrey "wasn't able to make enough money."5 In 1918 McCaffrey found work operating an excursion boat on the Hudson River, then returned to the Midwest to take up work on the Mississippi. Not long into Louella's time in New York, he had disappeared completely from her life.
Shortly after her arrival, Louella went to the Pathe studio where, as D. W. Griffith had promised, there was a job awaiting her in the publicity department. After her success at the Chicago Herald, a desk job at Pathe seemed like an insult, and Louella pressed on in her search for newspaper work. Through John Flinn, she arranged an interview with editor William E. Lewis of the Morning Telegraph, and on a warm June morning set out for the office on West Fiftieth and Eighth Streets.
The Telegraph was a "theater and turf" paper known for its extensive (and somewhat flippant) coverage of sports, financial, and theatrical news. (Shortly before Louella's arrival, the Telegraph had announced the refusal of the English poet laureate to grant the press an interview with the headline "King's Canary Refuses to Chirp.")6 Though Louella knew that the paper was hardly prestigious, she also knew that working on any New York paper meant readers and recognition on a grand scale. The city's literary and journalistic circles were made up of the nation's brightest writing talent: H. L. Mencken, Fannie Hurst, Dorothy Parker, Alexander Woollcott, Edna Ferber, and Damon Runyon wrote for New York papers in the 192os and not only were read in New York but also were syndicated throughout the world. As historian William R. Taylor has noted, landing a job at a New York paper in the second and third decades of the twentieth century was "a little like playing the Palace." 7
Louella may have dreamed of playing the Palace, but she ended up in a barn. Befitting its slightly raffish reputation, the Telegraph was headquartered in a former stable that had once housed the city's horsecar lines. As Louella approached the office, she may have smelled dirt, hay, and hooves-a distinct and distinctly unpleasant aroma that was the source of frequent complaints by the paper's staff and visitors. "The city room was always cluttered up with all sorts of people who didn't seem to have any business there," recalled Heywood Broun, who worked for the Telegraph from 1910 to 1912. "Very often you couldn't get to your desk because there would be a couple of chorus girls sitting there waiting for a friend who was finishing an editorial." A poker game "had been going on practically since Teddy Roosevelt charged up San Juan Hill ," prostitutes and racketeers consorted with reporters, and the oaths and tall tales were as thick as the cigarette smoke that only partially masked the barnyard stench. Former gunslinger and Dodge City sheriff Bat Masterson was the paper's sports columnist, and when an enemy from Masterson's Wild West days sauntered into the office threatening to even an old score, the staff fled the building for fear of straying bullets. "I went to a car barn," Broun lamented, "instead of a school of journalism."8
Editor William E. Lewis, a veteran journalist who had gotten his start as a reporter in frontier mining towns in the 188os, was friendly but gruff. Why did the Telegraph need a movie columnist? he asked Louella. The paper already had a daily movie page, filled with news and information culled from studio press releases. Louella then reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of letters from studio heads Carl Laemmle, Lewis Selznick, and Adolph Zukor, whom she had met in Chicago. The letters praised Louella's reportorial skills, her extensive knowledge of the industry, and the impact of her Herald column on Chicago film attendance. "Seen on the Screen" had been instrumental in drumming up public interest in stars and films, and its effect had been felt at the box office. "You wrote those letters yourself," Lewis said. Louella shook her head, and Lewis realized she was serious. Louella could bring important studio connections to the Telegraph and, with them, not only film news but also lucrative advertising.
At the end of the interview, Lewis was impressed but still not convinced. "I have to think about it. I'll give you a decision in two days," he said. But two days was too long for Louella to wait, and she called Lewis the following day. "I'm going out of town for a few days," she lied, "and I thought maybe you had some word." "You're going out of town? Where?" Lewis asked. There was a long pause. "Brooklyn," Louella replied confidently. Lewis chuckled; he knew he had a real rookie on his hands. "Before you take that long trip," he said, still laughing, "come in and talk to me." At that moment she knew she had won the job.'
On June 9, 1918, the Telegraph announced: "Louella O. Parsons, whose special moving picture stories and film criticisms are familiar to everyone in the moving picture industry," had joined the paper as a movie columnist. Louella wrote to Dixon proudly: "I really have made a very satisfactory arrangement. Am to have an office at 1493 Broadway and shall do my work away from the working end of the paper. For this they are paying me more than I made on the Herald and in addition I have reserved the right to syn dicate my work." The Telegraph boasted to readers that "Miss Parsons has a large personal acquaintance with stars, producers and directors, and is especially noted for her chatty, intimate interviews with them.... She will tell what is happening each day in moving picture circles. The entire industry is her field and everyone with a moving picture secret can give it to Miss Parsons for the Morning Telegraph." 10 With the exception of the film review sections in the World and the Tribune, Louella's column would be the only column in the city devoted exclusively to motion pictures.
The "moving picture secrets" that the Telegraph promised, however, were hardly the stuff of celebrity gossip. Lewis had made it clear that Louella's new column, "In and Out of Focus," would be primarily a trade column for the actors, theater owners, and studio personnel who were among the paper's regular readers. (The Telegraph was often dubbed the "favorite breakfast food of theatrical New York.") For "In and Out of Focus," Louella attended conventions, interviewed studio heads, and reported industry-related financial and production news. Louella did, however, run occasional celebrity "personality" pieces for the movie fans among her readers. "One does not have to have a key to the book on human nature to get
a keen insight into the character of Alice Joyce," she wrote in a 1919 interview. "She breathes a veritable atmosphere of real womanhood.... If the eyes are the window of the soul, Alice Joyce must have a Madonna-like quality in her nature, for she has the most perfect Madonna eyes I have ever seen."" Of a lunch interview with actress Betty Blythe at the Gotham Hotel, she said, "Even queens must eat. Her royal highness managed eggs and bacon, toast, marmalade, prunes and tea, proving as well as being beautiful she has a hearty and healthy appetite. The queen, you see, is a mortal, even as you and L"12 According to Louella, stars were at once ordinary and extraordinary, godlike yet mortal-a paradoxical description, common to American celebrity writing, that allowed fans to worship and at the same time identify with their idols.13
Moreover, Louella explained, stars were both made and born. Though she stressed the innate beauty and "personality" of the men and women who became cinema stars, she also used her column to expose to readers the artificial and constructed nature of movie stardom. She described the typical "rags to riches" rise of struggling young actors and actresses to fame and fortunea process that involved luck, perseverance, and hard work, in addition to a good deal of manipulation by the studios. In her column, Louella revealed the makeovers and publicity campaigns that studios used to transform actors into stars, thus giving readers a sense of collusion in, if not knowledge about, the star-making process. Readers felt savvy, as if they knew what went on behind the scenes. Yet Louella's accounts were hardly as revealing as she claimed. In most cases, she never divulged the true extent of the studios' manipulation of actors' images and appearances, never let on that, in some cases, the personality traits attributed to actors were entirely false, fabricated by film companies to meet audiences' expectations.
With a solid knowledge of the filmmaking process, and with acquaintances and connections in every area of film production and exhibition, Louella had, by early 1919, become a leading authority in New York on the business and politics of the movie industry. Her column swelled with reports of recent company mergers, the latest box office returns, and news from the ongoing battle with the federal government over movie censorship. Louella often used her column to support political candidates, such as future president Calvin Coolidge and New York governor Al Smith, who were sympathetic to the film industry. She also became involved in political struggles within the New York film community and frequently endorsed candidates for top industry positions. When state senator (and future New York mayor) Jimmy Walker ran for the presidency of the Motion Picture Theater Owners of America in 1922, Louella praised Walker in her column on a near-daily basis. During her last year at the Chicago Herald, she had marveled at the elegant evening gown she wore to her first film industry convention. Only a year later, her closet overflowed with black dresses, satin shoes, hats, and evening wraps, as Louella attended two or three, sometimes even four industry-sponsored banquets and balls each week as a representative of the Telegraph. 14
Her responsibilities and prestige grew rapidly. When Richard Watts, the editor of the Telegraph's movie page, was called into the army in July 1919, Louella was assigned to take over the section. As the new motion picture editor, she would assume responsibility for the headlines, layout, and all editorial content on the motion picture pages, in addition to writing her daily column. Since Louella had little experience with layout or editing, she turned to her colleagues for help. Thankfully, W. E. Lewis had assigned to Louella six young female assistants, whom he dubbed "the Persian Garden of Cats." Talented writers in their own right, several of the women, including Frances Agnew, who became a Hollywood screenwriter, went on to pursue successful literary careers.15
Staff writers Alfred Henry Lewis, Helen Green, and Baird Leonard sharpened Louella's prose, and Bat Masterson, with his wry sense of humor and Wild West tales, provided comic relief. Masterson also sparked in Louella an interest in prizefighting. Under his tutelage, Louella became such an expert on the sport that Masterson assigned her to cover the Jack Dempsey Jess Willard fight in Toledo in June 192o. Just as Louella was preparing to leave for the match, W. E. Lewis objected. "She is a nice girl," Lewis said, "and I am not going to have her going to a prize fight. Ladies don't belong there." It would be six years before Louella would finally realize her dream of covering a fight. In 1926, she reported the celebrated Dempsey-Tunney match for William Randolph 16
But it was Theodora "Teddy" Bean, veteran newspaperwoman and Sunday editor of the Telegraph, who became Louella's greatest teacher, supporter, and friend during her early days in New York. Born in Minnesota and educated at Carleton College, Bean, at the turn of the century, had been one of the first women reporters in Chicago. Bean achieved fame when she secured an interview with the temperance advocate Carrie Nation, who was visiting Chicago during her famed "antisaloon" crusade. Unbeknownst to other reporters, Bean convinced Nation to spend the night at a Turkish bath, where she interviewed her for several hours. Bean had outscooped the Chicago press, and her interview with Nation was the only one to appear in local papers the following day. After her success in Chicago, Bean moved to New York, where she joined the staff of the Telegraph as a feature writer. An outspoken feminist, Bean gained acclaim for her coverage of the women's suffrage movement.'?
A "handsome, imperious" woman who "abhorred sentiment," according to reporter Ishbel Ross, Bean smoked cigars, carried a walking stick, had a passion for detective stories, and could "plank steak like a chef." Every bit as hard-boiled as the male writers on the Telegraph staff, Bean showed Louella the ropes-how to write headlines and paste up a page, how to keep her composure, how to track down leads. Bat Masterson and his cronies may have added humor and color to Louella's life at the Telegraph and "the Persian Garden of Cats" may have kept the show going, but it was Teddy Bean who reminded Louella to be strong and confident when faced with male studio executives who flattered her, flirted with her, and sometimes tried to intimidate her to get the publicity they wanted.'$
Louella first interviewed Louis B. Mayer in 1919 in New York, where he was a producer for the First National Studios. The Morning Telegraph had been having some "trouble" with First National, Louella recalled-a dispute over payment for First National's ads in the paper-and Mayer, in an attempt to appease the Telegraph, flattered Louella shamelessly. Louella, of course, knew Mayer's motives but nonetheless played along with his sweet talk; she knew a good connection when she saw one. Back at the Telegraph, W. E. Lewis, who was still upset with First National, threatened to run an editorial protesting the studio's plan to purchase the German film Passion, which Lewis denounced as "unpatriotic" in the year after the war. Louella knew the effect this would have on her relationship with Mayer and successfully pressured Lewis to withhold the editorial and drop the issue. In fact, in her review of Passion, Louella never mentioned that the film and the leading actress, Pola Negri, were German. Though she admitted that the film was "of foreign birth" and "unmistakably of foreign make," she hinted several times in the piece that it was French. Mayer and J. D. Williams, head of First National, were thrilled with Louella's carefully calculated deception, and Mayer, who went on to become head of the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studio, became an ally and 19
Irving Thalberg, who would become an influential producer for MetroGoldwyn-Mayer in the 192,os and 1930s, was working in the New York office of Carl Laemmle's Universal Studio when Louella met him in 1919. Laemmle knew Louella from the Herald, and he arranged for Louella to lunch with the man, just before Thalberg's move to California to become general manager of Universal's Hollywood studio. When a very young man-he looked no more than sixteen or seventeen-walked into the restaurant and introduced himself as "Irving Thalberg," she snapped at him, thinking it was a gag. "I'm a very busy woman," Louella barked. "I've got no time for jokes." "But Miss Parsons," he replied, "I am Irving Thalberg." After much effort, the twentyyear-old Thalberg finally convinced Louella that he was indeed Universal's general manager. Louella also met David O. Selznick, who in the early 192os was working as an
independent producer in New York. Like most publicists and producers, Selznick sent Louella press releases and letters asking her to mention his stars in her column. "I do wish you could see your way clear to giving her [actress Marjorie Daw] a nice, illustrated write-up. And if you will remember her kindly and often in the future, you will be granting the only favor I could ask of you these radio days," he told her.20
Press agents often accompanied stars on their interviews with Louella, controlling their clients' responses carefully. But sometimes their plans backfired, with comic results. When Louella interviewed Clara Bow at a New York restaurant in the early 192 0s, the actress came with her agent, Morrie Ryskind. "Tell Miss Parsons," prodded Ryskind, "how much you enjoy her articles." "I read you every day in the World," Bow said. "Telegraph! Telegraph!" Ryskind whispered. "Oh, I mean the Telegram," Bow corrected. Ryskind was ready to crawl under the table. "I don't see why I should lie," Bow replied saucily. "I never read you and I never heard of you until this morning." With Ryskind silenced, Louella continued the interview, which became the subject of a fullpage article .21
Louella's column became noted not only for her exclusive interviews with studio executives and stars but also for its open advocacy of women's rights. In her column, Louella publicized the achievements of famous women as well as supported the careers of many female directors and writers, whose lack of "star" status and feminist politics prevented them from gaining press coverage elsewhere. "New, interesting, and vital to the feminists in the motion picture industry comes in the announcement [sic] made last week of the engagement of two women to direct two of the most important stars in the industry," Louella reported in August 19zo. "Mary Pickford ... is engaging Frances Marion to direct her next picture. The other woman is Mrs. Sidney Drew." The little-known film director Justine Johnson, Louella reported in 19z1, was a "champion" of feminism who was "planning to make a series of productions in defense of her sex." And aspiring director Elsie Cohen, she wrote, "stands for everything that feminism means." Louella was proudest of the feminist in her family, Maggie Ettinger, who had, through Louella's connection, become a press agent for D. W. Griffith. "Miss Margaret Ettinger has been engaged by D. W. Griffith as a special representative of [the film] Hearts ofthe World," Louella boasted. "Mr. Griffith has engaged a number of women representatives and is finding their work of real value."22
The First Lady of Hollywood Page 9
