Love Triangle: Ronald Reagan, Jane Wyman, & Nancy Davis (Blood Moon's Babylon Series)

by Darwin Porter

  Sheridan was given star billing as Lola Mears, the Juke Girl herself. Steve (i,.e, Reagan) romances Lola, but she seems reluctant to commit because of her shady past. She takes a job in Atlanta, Georgia, telling Steve he’ll be better off without her. However, they become closer when a lynch mob goes after them both. Before the final curtain, Lola and Steve, united in love, agree to settle down on their own farm and give up their tumbleweed lives.

  When not occupying his time with Sheridan, Reagan spent evenings with William Hopper, Hedda’s son. He’d been cast in Juke Girl in an uncredited role as a postal clerk. “Stardom seems to have eluded me,” he told Reagan.

  On location, he asked to bunk with Reagan as he’d done before, and Reagan agreed. He no longer felt as uncomfortable around William as he had before. He was free to undress in front of him, take a shower, and share a bed with him. At one point, he asked William, “Have you gotten over your crush on me?”

  “Far from it,” William proclaimed. “When Ronnie Reagan is old and gray, he can put his shoes under my bed any night he wants.”

  Sheridan claimed that, in some perverse way, “I think Ronnie gets off on the adulation Bill heaps on him. After all, it’s pretty god damn hard to reject being adored. Bill flattered him constantly. After even the simplest scene, Bill would praise him, calling him the most brilliant actor in films today.”

  Sometimes, as Reagan sat with William and Sheridan around a campfire, they listened to music composed and performed, informally, by Lockhart. Although he played the villain in the film, off screen, he was polite and charming. He wrote lyrics for songs, and sang many of his creations for them.

  He told Reagan, “I’m in the bio period of my career—Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940); Edison the Man (1940); Billy the Kid (1941); and The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941). He had just filmed They Died With Their Boots On (1941) with Errol Flynn cast as General Custer.

  Reagan told him, “I’m seriously pissed off that I didn’t get to play General Custer. After all, I was Custer in Santa Fe Trail. I think Jack Warner fucked me by not giving me the role again.”

  “Win some, lose some,” Lockhart said.

  Reagan was distressed to learn that Howard da Silva had been cast as Cully in Juke Girl. He had detested that actor ever since he’d told him that Jane was having an affair with Dennis Morgan during their work together on Bad Men of Missouri.

  Two weeks into the shoot, Reagan also had a reunion of sorts with Faye Emerson, who had flirted outrageously with him when they’d shot Nine Lives Are Not Enough. Once again, she flirted with him, and once again, he showed no interest in her at all.

  In one of the more dramatic moments of Juke Girl, Reagan smashes a big, rotten tomato in the face of Gene Lockhart, who plays the vicious owner of a fruit farm and packing plant.

  Reagan was the most physically violent of all U.S. presidents—that is, on the screen.

  Cast as a fellow drifter and itinerant worker, Whorf was very talented, later becoming an author, director, and designer. At the time he met Reagan, he was appearing in far better A-list pictures, including Yankee Doodle Dandy with James Cagney (1942); and Keeper of the Flame (1943), with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.

  One night at a local tavern, Reagan and Whorf joined Alan Hale, Sr., and associate producer Jack Saper, who were also involved in the filming of Juke Girl. Both Saper and Hale told Reagan they looked forward to working with him and Flynn on their upcoming movie, Desperate Journey.

  Reagan had recently made Tugboat Annie Sails Again with Hale. Reagan later said, “There was one thing Hale could do— and that was drink. He played a drunk on Santa Fe Trail with Errol and me, and he wasn’t acting. I could nurse a drink for an hour or two. Hale could drink all night. He obviously had a hollow wooden leg. He told me that once in Texas, he’d drunk for thirty-six uninterrupted hours. I told him, ‘That’s impossible.’ He claimed that every hour or so, he went to the toilet and threw up and then came back for more. What a man! What a disaster!”

  In Reagan’s view, Tobias, a New Yorker, was pleasant and easy to work with. He had signed with Warners in 1939, playing supporting roles in such movies as Yankee Doodle Dandy (1940), with James Cagney, and in Sergeant York (1941) with Gary Cooper. Tobias said he’d gotten his start by appearing as a Russian visa officer in Greta Garbo’s 1939 Ninotchka.

  Otherwise deeply involved in wartime film and propaganda production, Jack Warner had given producer Hal B. Wallis a clear hand without any interference during the shooting of Juke Girl. At first, based on the title, Warner thought it was a musical. That was partially true: In the movie, as Lola, Sheridan is a singer, warbling “I Hates Love.”

  But when Warner was screened a rough cut of the film, he was horrified at its pro-union stance. During his long and turbulent battles with union workers, Warner had sided with Walt Disney’s anti-labor stance.

  Juke Girl marked the beginning of the end of Warner’s long association with Wallis He would make only one more movie for Warners, Casablanca (1942), before leaving the studio.

  Reviews were lackluster, if not hostile, when Juke Girl opened across the country. The New York Times defined it as “another Warner’s semi-social life-in-the-raw-drama, where a lot of slangy lingo is tossed fast and loose. As a cynic, Sheridan contrasts with Reagan, an idealist, who is stanch (sic) as a young hero. The whole smacks too much of the synthetic. It’s like a tune that comes out of a jukebox.”

  Sheridan and Brent on their honeymoon in May of 1942.

  No sooner was Reagan back in Hollywood, than he received a call from Warner, who with his typical vulgarity, said, “Get yourself some pussy and head out again. You don’t want to keep Errol Flynn waiting on his Desperate Journey.”

  ***

  On location for Juke Girl, Reagan had come to know Ann Sheridan as he never had before or would ever again in the future.

  It was obvious to him that she was very unhappy about her recent marriage to George Brent, with whom Reagan had co-starred in Dark Victory. “George’s marriages usually don’t make it through the honeymoon,” she said. “I also suspect that he’s resumed his affair with Bette Davis.”

  “He’s a real penny pincher,” Sheridan complained. “He recently told a reporter, ‘I’m saving my money. You can’t play Shirley Temple forever.’ He told me I had to buy all my own clothes and that I had to pay half of the household expenses.”

  “That’s a better deal than I’m offering to my poor Jane,” he told her. “If I go into the Army, she’ll have to pay all of the household expenses, including bringing up Baby Maureen. On a soldier’s pay, Jane can’t expect me to buy her expensive gowns.”

  “Oh, you men,” Sheridan answered. “Excuses, excuses.” It’s more than the money thing. George is very withdrawn at times, going into deep, dark moods. He’ll lock himself away and not speak to me for days. I think he hits the bottle during those periods of isolation. Right before marrying me, he had this affair with Ilona Massey when they made International Lady (1941). Apparently, he likes her Hungarian goulash. The picture should be retitled An International Affair.”

  “You know better than most that all of us—the handsome hunks of the screen—face impossible temptations,” he said. “After all, we’re horny guys and they cast us with the most desirable women on the planet—and that means you, sugar.”

  “You’re right, she said. “I didn’t really expect a womanizer like George to be faithful. Frankly, I’m a ‘man-nizer’ if there’s such a word. I think an actor and an actress should not marry. I wonder at times how you and Jane will make it. It’s inevitable that one star will become a bigger star than the other—call it professional jealousy. I’ve already become a bigger star than he is. You saw A Star is Born, of course. George is low octane; I’m high octane. Some reporters are already referring to him as a has-been of the 1930s with a career in decline. Annie Gal is going up, up, just like you.”

  “As Hollywood stars, you and me, baby, the King and the Queen of the Bs, are going t
o become the King and Queen of Warners—forget that smokestack, Bette Davis. As for Flynn, he’ll probably end up in jail for raping an eight-year-old girl…or boy, perhaps.”

  During the course of the evening, she admitted that she went to Jack Warner to protest against having to appear in Juke Girl. “He threatened me with suspension again.”

  On location, both of them shared their dreams. She had learned that Warner had acquired the rights to Edna Ferber’s sprawling novel, Saratoga Trunk. She was “burning with desire” (her words) to play the heroine of the novel, whom she described as a Creole version of Scarlett O’Hara.

  Two bathing beauties, Ronald Reagan and Jane Wyman, on their honeymoon in Palm Springs, 1940.

  Reagan was astonished to learn that she’d recommended him to Jack Warner, suggesting that he play the male lead, a cowboy, in Saratoga Trunk. He’d never read the novel, and she told him she’d lend him her copy.

  “I’m already working in Hollywood with a French teacher,” she said. “Right now, he’s got me speaking ‘Franco-Texan.’ I’m even willing to don a blonde wig for my screen test.”

  [Reagan did read the novel and, indeed, thought he could play the role of the cowboy. But his getting drafted into the Army ended that possibility. As for Sheridan, she made a screen test, which, according to Jack Warner, was “so god damn awful I couldn’t even show it to her.”

  In 1945, Saratoga Trunk was released, the role of the Creole vixen having gone to a Swede, Ingrid Bergman, playing opposite cowboy Gary Cooper. One critic claimed that “at times, it is unbearable to sit through this disaster.” That made Reagan feel better that he’d lost the role.]

  On long, lonely nights, Reagan and Sheridan talked about their upcoming projects—Desperate Journey for him, and the flag-waving Wings for the Eagle (1942) for her. “My co-star is that dreamboat, Dennis Morgan,” she told him. “He’s got all the starlets at Warners salivating.”

  “I know that Morgan has been married for years,” he said. “Do you think he messes around with his leading ladies?”

  “Do you think a bear shits in the woods?” she answered. “Sure, he does. He’s a prize catch. Just ask such leading ladies as Ginger Rogers and Merle Oberon.”

  He didn’t want her to know that their co-star, Howard da Silva, had told him about rumors of an affair between Morgan and Jane. He was, in essence, fishing for information.

  Sheridan was trying to escape the Oomph Girl image and wanted to be viewed more seriously as an actress. “I don’t know if this recent publicity will help me,” she said.

  She showed him an article that defined her as “a hash house version of Carole Lombard who combines comedy with sex appeal.” The article also noted that it was appropriate that she was working on a movie with truck drivers. “Sheridan is known for her foul language and can outcurse any truck driver.”

  He noticed that on her dressing table she kept a picture of herself as Clara Lou from Denton, Texas. “I was all pudgy fat with kinky hair and a space between my teeth. But in a few months, I turned myself into a beauty contest winner, even though I’ve got no tits.”

  I think you’re lovely, and your tits are just fine with me.”

  “I like your balls, too,” she said.

  [George Brent drove up from Los Angeles and made a surprise visit to the set of Juke Girl, where Curtis Bernhardt was shooting a scene at night.

  What happened is not exactly known, except it became fodder for Hollywood gossip. All that is known for sure is that Brent gave Reagan a black eye. Someone told him that Reagan was having an affair with his wife. The culprit was the gossipy Howard da Silva, who had revealed Jane’s earlier indiscretion with Dennis Morgan.

  What is known is that Bernhardt had to order heavy makeup to camouflage Reagan’s black eye. “Fortunately, I was shooting night scenes, and I could cast his left eye in shadow,” the director said. “He told me he bumped into a door when he got up one night to take a piss. Brent told me he punched ‘the hell out of Reagan.’ I prefer to believe Brent.”]

  Not wanting to alert Jane to the incident, Sheridan temporarily quit accepting invitations to the Reagan household for dinner. Sheridan and Jane would make two more pictures together in the 1940s. Apparently, Jane never learned of the affair between Sheridan and her husband. If she did, she never confronted Sheridan about it.

  According to Joan Blondell, when rumors of Reagan’s infidelity reached Jane, she had a tendency to brush them aside.

  As she once told Blondell, “How can I expect fidelity from him when he can’t expect it from me? The pot can hardly call the kettle black.”

  ***

  Paulette Goddard picked up the phone to hear Jane’s voice bubbling over with excitement, even though it held a hint of anxiety. “You won’t believe this, but that Russian bear, Gregory Ratoff, has cast me in Footlight Serenade (1942) with John Payne as my leading man. Betty Grable and Victor Mature are in it, too.”

  Betty Grable (left) and Jane Wyman duke it out in Footlight Serenade. Jane worried that her legs weren’t as beautiful as those of Grable.

  “I heard that Grable and Mature are really going at it,” Goddard said. “With them teamed up with lovebirds like you and John, the film should be retitled Lovers Quartet. You might steal Mature away from Grable one night just to find out what the excitement is all about.”

  “Your suggestions are always so outrageous—that’s why I adore you so,” Jane said.

  “You are one lucky girl,” Goddard said. “John Payne and Mature are the two sexiest men in Hollywood. I got John Wayne on my last picture. What a dud! Guess what? I’m now making another movie. Are you sitting down? It’s called The Forest Rangers (1942).”

  “Who’s in it?” Jane asked.

  “That red-haired bitch, Susan Hayward, is the other leading lady. In the movie, and perhaps later in real life, too, we’ve got to fight it out for Fred MacMurray. I saw a picture of him shirtless. He’s got a great body, and I must investigate below the belt. Did you have to duke it out with Hayward for Ronnie boy?”

  “I did and you can declare me the winner,” Jane said. “He promised he’d never see her again.”

  “I met Regis Toomey,” Goddard said. “He’s in my picture, too. You and Regis, as you know, hold the world’s screen kiss record. Frankly, I wouldn’t even let that loser kiss me on the cheek.”

  “I did it for a day’s pay,” she said. “He knows he has no future as a leading man. He actually said something smart. He told me, ‘I’d rather be a supporting actor than a star—supporting actors last longer.’”

  “True, true,” Goddard said. “But he left out something. A true female movie star, after the blush of youth fades, can always marry a very rich man and live in luxury for the rest of her life. Men love to marry movie stars.”

  Incidentally, my divorce from Charlie [Chaplin] is coming through in June [1942]. I’m a bachelor gal once again—thank God. I’m playing the field, darling.”

  While preparing for her third picture in 1942, Jane read Robert Ellis’ script of Footlight Serenade. “Hell in a basket,” she told Reagan and others. “Here I am, playing Betty Grable’s sidekick. Always a sidekick, never a star. I get to rub Grable’s ankles when she’s tired from dancing. Betty and I started out in the chorus line with Goddard and Lucille Ball. Now Betty’s heading for the bigtime, and I’m still taking the leftovers.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Reagan assured her. “At least you’re drawing a fine paycheck.”

  When Reagan read the script, he said, “I see that John Payne plays your husband. I worked out with him when you guys did Kid Nightingale. My god, that guy practically did a striptease on camera. I hear the gals really go for him. But in this flicker, he’s got to compete with a guy they call ‘The Body Beautiful.’”

  Cast as a conceited boxer, a shirtless Victor Mature is interviewed by an admiring news reporter.

  [The reference was to Victor Mature, cast as a conceited heavyweight boxing champion who wants to put on a Broadway
show with a part for Betty Grable. Unknown to Mature, Jane, in a secondary role, is secretly married to Payne, also in the cast. The predictable complications ensue. No one ever accused Ellis of being a great screenwriter.]

  “Ellis must have been on something when he came up with the name of my character,” Jane said. “Flo La Verne. Isn’t that just too precious for words?”

  Ellis gave Jane a line that would have no special meaning for 1942 audiences, but which would get a laugh when shown to audiences in the Reagan 1980s. At one point, Grable tells Jane that she plans to become the understudy to the star of the show. Jane quips, “You have as much of a chance of being the understudy as I have of being the First Lady.”

  Torn between two hunks, John Payne (left) and Victor Mature, Betty Grable called herself “The luckiest girl in the world. I had both of them. Jane Wyman prefers John.”

  [As Jane told Goddard in the early 1980s, “Had I stayed married to Ronnie, I’d be First Lady now, going down in the history books. The way it is, history will shine on that little MGM starlet, instead. What was the poor dear’s name? Nancy something? I went to see one of her movies only because it had my friend, Barbara Stanwyck, in it. I fell into a deadly coma.”]

  Although Jane had met Grable at the same time she had been introduced to Goddard and Lucille Ball, she’d never been as close to Grable as she was to the other two actresses.

  Ratoff told Jane that Darryl F. Zanuck at Fox had granted Grable some leeway in the selection of her female co-star. Ironically, the two choices were Jane and Ball. Grable chose Ball because she said, “Her career has fallen into the briar patch.”

  When Ball arrived for lunch with Jane and Grable, Grable was not available, as she had retreated with Mature.