The Mammoth Book of Hollywood Scandals

by Michelle Morgan

  Ross Alexander’s new wife was absolutely devastated at the loss of her husband. She had been married for less than four months and could not understand why he had chosen to take his own life – particularly as she had not seen anything out of the ordinary all day. It later surfaced, however, that Warner Brothers had recently told him they were scaling down his roles, concerned that Alexander’s personal life was not allowing him to focus on his career. Worried about his job, his finances and with the tragic death of his first wife still very much on his mind, Alexander was in too much pain to carry on.

  The actor’s parents, who had been visiting over the Christmas holiday, were driving back home to Rochester, New York, when the news came through that their son had committed suicide. The devastated couple had just reached Arkansas and had to turn their car around to drive back to Hollywood. They were sad in the knowledge that while he had been talked out of using the gun just weeks earlier, Ross ultimately succeeded in taking his life by using the very same weapon that his wife had employed a little over a year before.

  18

  The Knickerbocker Hotel

  In Hollywood, some scandals revolve around the actors, actresses and wannabes who come looking for fame, fortune or both. But occasionally we stumble across a building that has made so many headlines that it deserves an entry all to itself in this book. The Shelton Apartments, detailed here in “The Suicide Apartments” chapter, is one such building, and the Knickerbocker Hotel is another.

  Built in 1925 by E. M. Frasier, the hotel was once a favourite haunt of Rudolph Valentino, Lana Turner, Mae West and Frank Sinatra. Elvis Presley lived in suite 1016 while making Love Me Tender, and Marilyn Monroe drove Joe DiMaggio here after their first date in 1952. But while it attracted its fair share of happy Hollywood memories, the hotel also played host to more than a few seedier headlines over the years, before finally evolving into a retirement home for senior citizens.

  The first story is more amusing than scandalous, though it certainly made the headlines back in 1936. During his lifetime, magician Harry Houdini often spent time debunking psychics and mediums. He wrote a book, A Magician Among the Spirits, which chronicled his efforts to unmask those he deemed frauds and charlatans, and told his wife Bess that if there was such a thing as communication after death, then he would come to her during a séance. The couple agreed that the secret code would be “Rosabelle believe” and that she would try for a total of ten years after his passing to get in touch. Sure enough, on Halloween 1927 – the first anniversary of Houdini’s death – Bess began her yearly tradition of holding a séance for her husband, though disappointingly he never came through for her.

  Bess persevered for nine years, and then flew to Hollywood from New York in 1936 and checked herself into the famed Knickerbocker Hotel for one last séance. There she told staff of her plans to conduct the final séance on the rooftop, accompanied by her business manager, Edward Saint. As she prepared for the evening, Bess told reporters that she had received many messages from mediums over the years, all telling her that they had been able to get through to the other side and speak with Houdini. “They mean nothing to me,” she said. “If he were to manifest himself to anyone, it seems it would be to me.”

  Unfortunately, it would seem that if the magician was speaking from beyond the grave, it certainly was not to Bess, and that evening’s attempt at contact was – as usual – a disappointing failure. The only thing that could be heard from the roof of the Knickerbocker was the quiet hum of the occasional car heading down Ivar Avenue, and taking the silence as a final hint, Bess finally gave up trying to contact her deceased husband. Still, the lack of correspondence did not deter other mediums, however, and for many years the tradition of holding a séance for Houdini has continued, though the success of the proceedings is somewhat debatable at best.

  The first real scandal to hit the famed hotel was in January 1943 when actress Frances Farmer was arrested after violating her probation by drink driving. Farmer was staying in her room and only semi-attired when police arrived at her door with a warrant for her arrest. Once inside there was such a fracas that officers ended up dragging the distraught, half-nude woman out of the room, along the corridor and down into the hotel lobby, where she vocally aired her displeasure at being arrested, much to the shock and scandal of everyone mingling around the front desk.

  Her arrest made headlines around the United States. Shortly afterwards she was admitted to hospital and spent the coming years under the care of doctors and psychiatrists. The arrest of Frances Farmer and her treatment by the police as she was taken from the hotel helped make the Knickerbocker become known as a headline-making hotel, and is still talked about to this day.

  The first Knickerbocker resident to make headlines by passing away while living there came in 1948 when the “father of the movie industry” D. W. Griffith died after collapsing in his room at the hotel. Griffith had been a pioneering director famous for the 1915 film The Birth of a Nation and many other early Hollywood successes. However, as time went on, he became disillusioned with the industry and eventually retired, claiming that he had always found directing to be a chore. “Believe it or not,” he said, “I always considered it a temporary thing, a sort of springboard”, before adding that his ultimate, lifetime ambition was always to be a writer.

  During his last year, Griffith lived a simple life at the Knickerbocker Hotel, where he read his large collection of books, and wrote plays and short skits. In the evening he would leave his room and quietly stroll along the boulevard, where he would swing his trademark cane and anonymously take in the sights and sounds of his beloved Hollywood.

  On 22 July 1948, Griffith collapsed in his room at the hotel, and was immediately examined by Dr Edward Skaletar. Suspecting a stroke, he rushed Griffith to Temple Hospital but his life could not be saved and sadly he passed away on 23 July. Friends and colleagues lined up to pay tribute to their mentor, and movie executive Samuel Goldwyn summed up the feelings of Hollywood when he said: “All of us in the motion picture industry owe to him and to his memory more than we will ever be able to repay.”

  The next famous Knickerbocker death actually took place in the hotel itself and was the most dramatic in its history so far. This happened in 1962 when famed dress designer Irene Lentz Gibbons (better known simply as Irene) ended her life in dramatic fashion right in the middle of the building.

  Irene had been a costume designer at MGM for many years, making famed clothes for the likes of Rosalind Russell, Carole Lombard, Joan Crawford and June Allyson. She was extremely successful and respected in the industry, and when she finally decided to retire from movies in 1949, her popularity ensured that she went on designing clothes for various stars over the course of many years to come.

  But by 1962, the now sixty-year-old Irene was living in Beverly Hills and spending much of her time worrying about her husband, Eliot, who had recently suffered a stroke. A high point had come when she had shown her latest designs at a nearby fashion show, but worries were never far from her mind and she seemed to be constantly beset by financial troubles and concerns. Finally, on 15 November she decided she no longer wished to be burdened by the stresses that came with her life and checked into room 1129 of the Knickerbocker Hotel.

  Once installed in her room, Irene began drinking excessively, gearing herself up for what she intended to do during the hours ahead. She wrote several notes, in one saying she was sorry to be taking her life in such a manner. “Please see that Eliot is taken care of,” she said, before going on to ask her friends to “get someone very good to design and be happy”. She ended by declaring, “I love you all. Irene.” Somewhat bizarrely, the designer also apologized in a note to fellow hotel guests which said simply, “Neighbours: Sorry I had to drink so much to get courage to do this.”

  Finally, having drunk herself into intoxication, Irene gathered up enough courage to end her life. Newspapers reported that she had tried to cut her wrists, though if she had, it was not mentioned o
n the death certificate. What we do know for sure is that during the afternoon, the respected dress designer staggered to her eleventh-floor window, opened it as wide as it would go, and at 3.20 p.m. jumped to her death, landing on the roof of the hotel lobby.

  It has been rumoured that, tragically, her body lay on the roof for many days before someone finally discovered it. This was not the case, however, as the sound made by the crash was extreme enough to have everyone wondering what on earth had just fallen from above. Her body was found quickly and an ambulance was called, though it was too late for anything to be done for Irene and the death certificate listed the cause of death as “Multiple fractures of all extremities with severe internal crushing injuries”. It also listed “acute alcohol intoxication” as another significant condition; a result of the copious amount of drink she had gulped to gain the courage to make her leap.

  Irene’s funeral was held at Forest Lawn, cemetery to the stars, and was attended by clients, friends and family. Her life may have been full of amazing designs and costumes, but sadly for Irene – just like many others before and since – it was her death that went down in history due to the gruesome way she decided to conduct it.

  The final famous death to come to the Knickerbocker was in 1966, when actor William Frawley passed away in the lobby of the hotel. Frawley was most famous for co-starring in the hugely successful TV series I Love Lucy, but after leaving the show he had also achieved further fame in the Fred MacMurray show, My Three Sons. Unfortunately bad health had besieged the aging actor and in 1965 he was written out of the show after undergoing prostate surgery.

  On Thursday, 3 March 1966, Frawley was walking down Hollywood Boulevard with his nurse, having just watched a movie at a nearby cinema. The seventy-three-year-old actor was supposed to be meeting a friend, but unfortunately as he was strolling towards his destination, he began to experience severe chest pains. His nurse was understandably shocked but somehow beat the odds by managing to get Frawley to the Knickerbocker Hotel on Ivar Avenue. Once there, the nurse shouted for help and concerned staff ran to the actor’s aid and phoned for an ambulance.

  Sadly, while they were waiting for the vehicle to arrive, the actor suffered a massive heart attack and proceeded to collapse on to the floor of the hotel lobby. The ambulance crew rushed into the building but, despite their best efforts, there was unfortunately nothing that could be done to help him and by the time they had reached a nearby hospital, the ailing actor had already passed away.

  Though he’d been ill for some time, the acting world was in shock at Frawley’s sudden death, and his co-star in I Love Lucy, Lucille Ball, released a statement. In it she said that she had lost one of her closest friends, and that “show business has lost one of the greatest character actors of all time”.

  The ironic thing about Frawley dying at the Knickerbocker was that for many years he had actually lived in the hotel with his sister, Mary. However, when she passed away herself, Frawley made the decision to move out of the hotel and into his own apartment. In March 1966 he was living at 450 North Rossmore Avenue, and it had been merely a coincidence that on the very night he died, he should be walking so close to the building he had called home for much of his later life.

  19

  Jean Harlow, Hollywood’s Baby

  Out of the many hundreds of high-profile Hollywood deaths over the past hundred years, there are very few that have really caused a huge outpouring of public grief. Marilyn Monroe was one such case, and her idol, Jean Harlow, was another. She was mourned twenty-five years before Marilyn died, with thousands lining the streets to share their sadness with the world.

  Born Harlean Harlow Carpenter on 3 March 1911, “The Baby”, as she was known, was raised in Kansas City, Missouri, by her father, Mont Clair Carpenter, and her mother, Jean Carpenter (née Harlow). Her childhood was financially secure but her mother was unhappy in the marriage and eventually filed for divorce in 1922. This was devastating for Harlean as she adored her father, and even more upsetting when it became apparent that the controlling Mrs Carpenter was only prepared to allow limited access to him for the rest of Jean’s life.

  After the divorce, Jean Carpenter decided to take her daughter to Hollywood to find fame and fortune. However, surprisingly it was not for Jean that she wished fame: it was for herself. The mother and daughter arrived in 1923 and “Mother Jean”, as she was known, started the long process of walking from studio to studio in the hope of finding work. She soon discovered, however, that acting in Hollywood was purely a young girl’s dream, and since she was the wrong side of thirty, she was never going to become remotely famous in her own right.

  Broke and downhearted, the two left Hollywood on the instructions of Mother Jean’s father, who threatened to disinherit her if she continued with what he considered to be her ridiculous and failed quest to be a movie star. Neither woman was happy to leave California and when Mother Jean married Marino Bello – a man with a questionable reputation – in 1927, Harlean showed her disapproval by eloping with her boyfriend, Charles McGrew, and moving straight back to Los Angeles. The newly married Jean’s plan to escape her mother and stepfather did not go quite to plan, however, as she soon found herself followed to California by the pair, who felt it would be far more entertaining to live in Hollywood than plain old Missouri.

  Once in California, Harlean became friends with a young actress called Rosalie Roy, who was eager to find fame and fortune as an actress. One day, desperate for a lift, she asked Harlean to drive her to an audition at a nearby studio. She was happy to provide this service, though what neither of the young women knew was that it would be Harlean who caught the eye of the executives there, not Rosalie Roy.

  Harlean thought the whole idea of being discovered was quite a joke, especially after witnessing the failed career of her mother, and promptly told the studio that she had no interest in their plans for her. However, several days later, her friend joked with the young blonde about what had been offered to her, and made a bet that she would never have the nerve to go further with the “discovery”. Always game for a laugh, this prompted Harlean to prove her friend wrong, and after driving herself to Central Casting, it was not long before she had signed a contract using her mother’s maiden name, Jean Harlow.

  This new and surprising career was entertaining to Jean, who enjoyed a series of bit parts, including an appearance in Double Whoopee with comedians Laurel and Hardy. However, back in Missouri her grandfather saw a photo of Jean in a skimpy outfit and he immediately wrote to show his displeasure and encourage the young woman to give up any dreams she might have of becoming an actress. After all the “nonsense” he had been through with his daughter’s dreams of screen stardom, he did not want to go through it all again with his granddaughter, and was determined to get her back home.

  However, while Mother Jean had probably known she was on a failing quest to become famous at her age, Jean was still a young woman and, despite her grandfather’s concerns, she persevered with her career. But with this success came a great deal of stress within her marriage, and it eventually collapsed under great strain from both sides in 1929. Thankfully the sadness at the end of her relationship did not last long when more small roles came her way, including in the 1929 movie The Saturday Night Kid with Clara Bow. Then she scored her biggest break when cast in the Howard Hughes film, Hell’s Angels, which was such a huge success that it catapulted Jean to stardom; she followed this with hits such as The Public Enemy (1931) with James Cagney and Red Dust (1932) with Clark Gable.

  However, the headlines she received for Red Dust were not quite what she expected, after the sudden and mysterious death of her second husband of just a few weeks, producer Paul Bern. So scandalous was the marriage and death that a whole separate chapter is dedicated to it in this book (“The Mysterious Death of Paul Bern”). For now, the shadow of scandal that lingered over MGM’s brightest star was almost unbearable.

  With Bern’s death so fuelled by rumours, Jean’s career was severe
ly threatened, though quite surprisingly she managed to weather the storm and won a great deal of public sympathy through the way she handled the whole episode. She then went on to star in successful movies such as Bombshell (1933) and Dinner at Eight (1933), though her tricky personal life was always on the verge of scandal and took another tumble when she married and quickly divorced her third husband, cameraman Hal Rosson, in 1933–4.

  By this time Jean was gaining a reputation as a serial bride, but it would seem that the end of her marriage to Hal was not the result of anything she had done, but instead the conclusion of a great deal of stirring and continued interference by Mother Jean. Never one to shirk from an overpowering interest in her daughter’s life, the woman had crashed into the couple’s marriage to such a degree that while Hal was said to be deeply in love with his wife, it just was not enough to hold the relationship together.

  By 1937 Jean was dating William Powell, the ex-husband of Jean’s friend, the film star Carole Lombard. Carole was known for her raucous behaviour, wild parties and liking for the odd swearword or two. In short, she was the kind of person Jean Harlow was known to play on screen, though away from the camera Jean was quite the opposite: gentle, softly spoken and not regularly known to curse. The relationship Jean had with Powell was not entirely positive for this reason, as it would seem that he mistook the person she played on screen with the person she actually was, and was often known to joke and tease her in the same way he did with Carole. The outgoing Lombard could handle it, but the softer Harlow could not, and she became confused sometimes when his jokes hurt her feelings.

  Adding to Jean’s confusion was Powell’s reluctance to marry her, and by spring 1937 she was unsure as to where the relationship was going. When reporters asked if the two would marry, she would always laugh and tell them that after three marriages, she surely would not want to marry again. Privately, however, it would seem that she longed for Powell to take her seriously, make their union official and rescue her from the arms of her controlling mother who she was living with at the time.