The Girl

by Michelle Morgan

  When casting began, many of the actors who had appeared in the stage version were now enrolled to appear in the film. These included Richard Wattis as Peter Northbrook, Jeremy Spenser as King Nicolas, and Paul Hardwick as majordomo to the duke. While Vivien Leigh would not have a part in the film, her presence was everywhere apparent, particularly since Terence Rattigan never made any secret of the fact that by the time he had finished writing the original play, it had been her he was specifically writing it for.

  During their time working on the stage production, Leigh and Olivier had rehearsed their parts for hours, and they shared secret keywords between each other to have perfect timing in every scene. Then after each performance, the couple would sit down to discuss how they could experiment with their parts to make them even better for the next evening. One scene when the duke makes a phone call while the showgirl eats caviar made a huge impression on audiences and critics alike. “Perhaps only a husband and wife would have the patience and endurance to rehearse that scene as frequently as the Oliviers did,” said Theatre World, “often at home, long after rehearsals were over at the theatre.”

  It was clear to everyone that Marilyn had taken on a monumental task by optioning the project, and that through natural loyalty to Vivien and the story, it would be exceptionally difficult to win over the original theatrical cast.

  OLIVIER’S TRIP TO NEW York happened to coincide with a momentous event in Marilyn’s life—that of changing her name legally from Norma Jeane DiMaggio to Marilyn Monroe. The significance of changing her name at this juncture in her life cannot be understated, particularly as she had used the stage name for almost ten years and had not taken any steps to change it legally before. She felt comfortable in her skin and with her name, and in February 1956 the time was ripe for her to officially own the identity of Marilyn Monroe.

  She was proud of what was happening in her life, and every day led her further and further away from the dumb-blonde sexpot. She was planning for her future. Just a week after the name change, Marilyn drew up her first will. In it she left most of her money to Arthur Miller and then split the rest between Lee and Paula Strasberg, her doctor Margaret Hohenberg, Michael Chekhov’s widow, the Actors Studio, Norman Rosten’s daughter, and the health care of her mother. With the legalities of the name change and will now in place, Marilyn was free to continue with her creative work.

  So far, she had been classed as an observer at the Actors Studio, but on February 17, 1956, Marilyn acted in her very first scene, from Eugene O’Neill’s play Anna Christie. Perhaps the biggest surprise about the event was that despite her nerves, she actually volunteered to do the part. Nobody had pushed her, nobody had forced her into it; it was merely something that Marilyn herself finally felt happy and brave enough to attempt.

  The scene was performed with actress Maureen Stapleton, and together they rehearsed furiously to make sure it was absolutely perfect. One evening, after many hours of going over the scene, the two women shared a cab home, but as Marilyn was to get out first, she offered to pay something toward the fare. Stapleton did not wish to take her money, and the two began a discussion as to who was right and who was wrong. At first it was somewhat lighthearted, but when Stapleton realized that Marilyn was not going to leave without giving her money, she lost her temper. “If you pay that driver, I’m finished with you and the scene!” she said. Marilyn kept her money and got out of the cab. Stapleton regretted being so forthright and intended phoning Marilyn as soon as she got home. However, Marilyn phoned first and it was clear that the taxi situation had really upset her. Because of Stapleton’s forceful tone, Marilyn had convinced herself that Stapleton did not want to act the part or appear onstage with her. It took a lot of consoling to convince the actress that that wasn’t the case at all. The two made up and rehearsals continued.

  So as not to attract unwanted attention from those not normally due to attend class that day, Marilyn chose not to put her name on the board of upcoming scenes. Of course, word soon leaked out and the studio was packed with just about every student imaginable. “Believe me when I say that Marilyn got out there and did her scene in front of one of the toughest audiences in the world,” said Arthur Miller’s sister and fellow student Joan Copeland. It was certainly a harsh crowd, especially since many of the students still hadn’t forgiven Marilyn for being such a huge star.

  Just before the two actresses were due to go onstage, Marilyn suffered a severe bout of nerves, which she later said had rendered her unable to remember a single word. Still, when Stapleton suggested they place a script on the stage as they performed, Marilyn was horrified. She would do this scene if it killed her, and there would be no script to help her along the way!

  Despite her anxiety, in the end the scene was remarkable and the normally brutal audience gave Marilyn a round of applause. Fellow actress Kim Stanley recalled that it was the first time she had ever heard clapping in the Actors Studio and afterward felt obliged to tell Marilyn just how much she admired her. Joan Copeland described the performance as beautiful. “She displayed—you know—the kind of talent it was hard to believe she had.” Marilyn, she recalled, was absolutely thrilled when the students who had shown a definite dislike toward her actually came up afterward to say how good she was.

  Still haunted by feelings of inferiority and a lack of confidence, after the class Marilyn cried to the Strasbergs because she felt that her performance had not been as good as it could have been. Later she told reporters that she did not have any feelings toward the performance at all, because it had all passed in a blur. She may have had reservations, but nobody else did. The scene went down in history as one of the most important and influential ever performed at the Actors Studio, and was still being talked about long after her death.

  ON FEBRUARY 22, 1956, Marilyn did a unique and beautiful portrait sitting with famed photographer Cecil Beaton. From the beginning, the actress’s informal style—mussed-up hair and hardly any makeup—made a huge impression on Beaton. He later wrote that he was a little startled by her at first, and mistook her joyful manner for exhibitionism. However, he soon realized that it was merely a case of exhilaration, “like an over-excited child asked downstairs after tea.”

  Marilyn greatly enjoyed working with the famous photographer, and one portrait of her, lying on a Japanese tapestry with a chiffon scarf ruffled around her shoulders, became her favorite. In the picture, she is holding a carnation to her breast, looking deeply at the camera, with her hair swept upward. Marilyn was fascinated with the piece. She bought prints for friends and told a reporter from the Los Angeles Times that the look actually reminded her of when she was a little girl.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Performance of a Lifetime

  LIKE THE SEVEN YEAR Itch and The Sleeping Prince, Bus Stop was a play long before it was made into a movie. Starring Kim Stanley, the Broadway production was a smash hit, though the actress refused to accept all the glory, claiming that the other actors in the play were just as good as she was. “Nobody believes it now that they have seen Miss Stanley in action,” wrote Mawby Green for Theatre World. “For she is contributing the best comic characterization since Judy Holliday fractured the town in Born Yesterday, stopping the show on several occasions merely with her delivery of a line.”

  It was reviews like this that made Marilyn a little hesitant to take on the role. Hearing just how much audiences and critics alike enjoyed Miss Stanley’s performance was daunting. However, among all the praise there were a few who—while admitting it was a slick show—complained that perhaps the depth of performances in the play as a whole was somewhat lacking. This gave Marilyn hope that she could bring something more to the film than had been given onstage.

  The play Bus Stop was written by William Inge and revolves around a group of bus passengers who are stuck in a diner during a snowstorm. Over the course of one night, the characters all reveal their hopes and fears, until the snow has cleared and their lives can return to normal. Among the passengers is
a nightclub singer named Cherie, who has been “kidnapped” by a cowboy named Bo intent on marrying her. At first she has no interest in this bully and instead is desperate for a man who will respect her. During the course of the play, Bo proves that he can be that man, and she unexpectedly falls in love.

  The film—written by The Seven Year Itch’s George Axelrod—carried far more action than was portrayed on the stage, and as a result, some of the original characters were removed and new scenes added, among them one of Cherie singing “That Old Black Magic” in a nightclub and major parts shot on location at a parade and rodeo. Director Joshua Logan later explained to William Inge that as the main plot revolved around the love story of characters Bo and Cherie, the deletion of some secondary characters made way for a better exploration of their own personal tale. He did not explain, however, that some longer speeches had been deleted because Marilyn had told George Axelrod that she had a problem with long lines. Years later, the writer would remember Marilyn as “a unique work of art, manufactured (flaws and all) in an edition of one. Afterwards they broke the mold. Later they broke her, too, but that’s another story.”

  To prepare for the role of Cherie, Marilyn worked closely with Paula Strasberg, who also agreed to go with the actress on location. There were countless hours spent discussing the project with Milton Greene, and together they deliberated over everything from what makeup Cherie should wear (pale because she spends most of her time indoors) to the state of her fishnet stockings (ripped and darned because she doesn’t have much money).

  Behind the scenes, teacher Lee Strasberg wrote to Joshua Logan to tell him that he believed Marilyn to be one of the greatest actors that ever came through the doors of the Actors Studio. It was this comment that made Logan finally commit to the project, and by the end of filming, he completely shared Strasberg’s view. For the rest of his life, whenever interviewed he would say that Marilyn was a combination of Greta Garbo and Charlie Chaplin. He wholeheartedly believed that she was one of the most extraordinary actresses that ever lived. This was fine praise indeed from a professional who had worked extensively on Broadway and had just directed the Academy Award–nominated film Picnic.

  Bus Stop was to be a pivotal role for Marilyn, not just because it was an extraordinary part, but also as it required her to go back to Los Angeles for the first time in over a year. When she left after the making of The Seven Year Itch, the actress had been adamant that she would only return when she received positive answers to her demands. Critics had laughed, but now she was going back as the president of her own company, an Actors Studio protégée, a friend of poets and intellectuals, and most important of all, armed with the best contract of her career. The critics remained perplexed, but at least they found it harder to laugh now. Marilyn had taken on Hollywood and won; only a fool would make fun of that.

  THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ARTHUR Miller and Marilyn had become extremely serious, and he had finally moved out of his family home. The couple continued to see each other secretly, but if there was any hope of long-term happiness, it was clear that Miller would have to obtain a divorce as quickly as possible. Marilyn’s trip to Los Angeles gave him that opportunity, and he made arrangements to travel to Nevada while Bus Stop was being filmed.

  The closeness between Miller and Marilyn came at a price. Ever since her arrival in New York, she had listened to the advice presented by Milton Greene and his associates. She didn’t always take their suggestions, but her attention was in their direction. After the appearance of Miller, however, this began to shift. He had a long career in theater, he read scripts and plays with an unfaltering eye, and he knew a lot about the business. Marilyn listened to his views and agreed with his opinions on politics and literature. Despite being touted as complete opposites (or the “Beauty and the Brain,” as the press liked to call them), the pair actually had a great deal in common, and this inevitably threatened to jeopardize the relationship she had with Milton, since she now looked to Miller for support before her business partner.

  Still, away from romantic entanglements, there was work to be done. In that regard, the last week of February 1956 and the first few weeks of March were extremely busy. After flying into Los Angeles on February 25 with Milton, Marilyn was met at the airport by dozens of reporters all intent on getting an exclusive. They wanted to know about the new Fox contract, what it was like to be back in Los Angeles, and whether she was happy.

  Marilyn took it all in her stride and assured everyone that she was thrilled to be back in her hometown. She wasn’t enraptured, however, when she attended a court appearance to sort out the 1954 charge of driving without a license. During proceedings on February 29, Judge Charles J. Griffin enjoyed reprimanding the actress, while she smiled sweetly and promised not to do it again. Afterward, Marilyn appeared on the court steps and declared that the judge had made the right decision by penalizing her. “I don’t really believe in ignoring traffic citations,” she said with a grin.

  On March 1, a Sleeping Prince distribution deal with Warner Bros. was announced. The event created a lot of publicity, and at a press party Marilyn was seen posing ecstatically with Jack Warner and greeting actor and fellow Warner Bros. associate James Stewart. This was an extraordinary moment for Marilyn, and it seemed as though everyone was thrilled with her success. However, one person quietly waiting for her to fall was former teacher Natasha Lytess. She had tried unsuccessfully to contact Marilyn since her dismissal at the end of The Seven Year Itch, and on hearing that the actress was back in Hollywood, the scorned woman was prompted to try to reunite once and for all.

  After receiving no reply to her phone calls, Lytess turned up at the Beverly Glen home Marilyn was sharing with the Greenes and demanded to see her former pupil. She was sent away by agent Lew Wasserman, and as she walked down the path, turned back to look at the house. Marilyn was standing at an upstairs window, but did not wave or smile. Afterward, the actress instructed her agents to put a stop to the unwanted attention and Lytess went away—for a while.

  SO WHAT BECAME OF Natasha Lytess? The drama coach never forgave Marilyn for her dismissal, and in 1960 she wrote a fairly stern but sanitized version of their relationship with researcher Jane Wilkie. Wilkie did not particularly like Lytess and complained bitterly that, despite her best efforts, almost all the manuscript was a complaint against Marilyn. It remained unpublished.

  Several years later, Lytess wrote another memoir, only this time it was filled with every sordid, degrading, and scandalous story she could muster. In 1962, Marilyn’s press agent received word that Lytess had sold it for $10,000 to France-Soir, the owner of a magazine called France-Dimanche. The agency asked how much it would cost to buy it back, but the publisher refused, explaining that they had world rights to the piece and therefore were on course to make a lot of money. They also disclosed that the story was so intimate that they probably wouldn’t be able to publish it in its entirety. Lawyers were consulted, but the agency was told that until the article actually appeared, there was nothing that could be done to stop publication. For now, all everyone could do was wait.

  While the agents concerned themselves with its possible release in France-Dimanche, the story suddenly appeared in London’s Sunday People newspaper. As predicted, the piece left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The first installment boasted the horrendous title “Marilyn Monroe: Her Secret Life, I Made Her—Body and Soul.” In the article, the embittered teacher told readers all about her first meeting with Marilyn—how the starlet was dressed like a “trollop” who had dyed yellow hair and a petulant mouth. She said Marilyn’s voice was “like a knife clattering on a cafeteria plate.”

  Natasha’s foul-mouthed tirade was utterly without compassion toward her former pupil and disclosed everything she could possibly think of to blacken Marilyn’s name. Some of the less intrusive stories involved Marilyn having a romance with millionaire Howard Hughes when she was still a starlet. During that time, he apparently flew her and the drama coach to Palm Spring
s and delivered yellow roses to the house every single day. Natasha boasted that she went along for the ride and received flowers too, but even she had to admit that hers were just out of courtesy, not romance.

  Natasha Lytess was completely and utterly obsessed with Marilyn’s sex life, as evidenced thoroughly throughout the articles. Mostly her stories concentrated on the actress’s lack of knowledge about kissing and intimacy. According to Lytess, she had to explain what the word sensual meant, and Marilyn then bought manuals to study the subject. The fact that the actress had already been married and knew the basics of sex long before she met the teacher was completely ignored by Natasha.

  The complaints that Jane Wilkie noted in her unpublished manuscript are everywhere apparent in the articles, but there were times when Lytess had to confess that Marilyn was actually a good person. One story involved a millionaire who wanted to give the actress a car in exchange for sex. She turned him down and the vehicle was returned. Then Lytess fell behind on her mortgage payments, so to help her out Marilyn sold a mink coat given to her by agent and lover Johnny Hyde. These small, heartwarming memories were rare, however, and for the most part Lytess’s story was one of utter vitriol.

  It is bad enough that the teacher went after her former student in such a brutal and coldhearted manner, but it is especially distressing to know that the first three articles were published on July 15, 22, and 29, 1962—also known as the three weeks leading up to Marilyn’s death. The next one—published on August 5, 1962, the very morning the world woke to the news that Marilyn had passed—detailed the star’s turbulent relationship with Joe DiMaggio. The series should have ended there, but in light of Marilyn’s passing, Lytess was happy to write one more article, published on August 12, 1962. Was this last installment to be an apology? A declaration that the other articles had been mean-spirited and unkind? No, not at all.