I’ve spent a lot of time here talking about place, about ambience, but I have to be honest—when I think of those days, I think mostly of people.
Bob and Sally Cobb. Mike and Gloria Romanoff. Dave and Maude Chasen. J. Stanley Anderson. Jim Cagney. Jimmy Stewart. Spencer Tracy. Clifton Webb. Laurence Olivier. Billy Wilder. Barbara Stanwyck.
Some of these people were actors, some restaurateurs, some entrepreneurs. But they were all men and women who could warm your hands just by being around them.
There are very few places left in town that have the wonderful charm that attracts a traditionalist like myself. Even the Bel Air Hotel has changed. Today, there are a few places that still maintain the old vibe: L’Ami Louis in Paris, La Grenouille in New York, and the wonderful Charles Masson and his family, whom I love.
But things change. It’s the way of the world. I guess that’s why nobody writes letters anymore.
Ethics have deteriorated in business in general. Start with the government and go down . . . It’s so hard to teach values: looking someone in the eye, shaking hands, not being litigious, being grateful for the bounty that life so often gives us. Lawyers have taken over the country, as have the insurance companies and lobbyists in general. When I was brought up, a man’s word was his bond. Pensions are disappearing, with a resultant loss of security. An interconnected social system that lasted for close to a hundred years is breaking down.
I grew up in a different time. I don’t mean to imply that it was necessarily perfect. But I think we can all agree that it’s become far more difficult to move through life with some sense of balance, not to mention integrity. Technology has altered values in a way that makes it hard to have any intimacy. And most damaging is the fact that the level of vitriol is off the charts.
Many people my age believe that the films have grown old, lost their power to enchant. Sometimes that happens to people. If you fall in love with the movies when you are young—I think the critical ages are around eight to fifteen or so—by the time a half century has gone by, the movies are bound to have changed a great deal, because it’s their nature to appeal to the young, who attend more frequently than the old.
For example: 1965 is generally thought of as a good year for Hollywood, on the cusp of the great changeover from old to new. Old masters like Ford, Wilder, and Wyler were still in the game, and exciting young talents like Arthur Penn, Sidney Lumet, Blake Edwards, and John Frankenheimer were beginning to make waves.
That year, the wonderful old director Raoul Walsh talked to Hedda Hopper about how Hollywood had changed. According to Walsh, it was all for the worse: “Cooper, Gable, Flynn—all gone at once—it’s left a big hole. The Academy Awards are now a joke—a songwriter’s holiday. It’s ‘What song can we get him or her to sing?’ This used to be a place out of the Arabian nights in earlier times—now the so-called stars go around dressed like bums—in old jeans. It’s unbelievable.”
Change the names of the recently deceased, and you could imagine the same speech being given by any number of the unwilling retired actors, directors, or reporters of today pining for the golden age of 1965.
But even amid an occasional complaint, I remain optimistic. The movies have always been about passion, enthusiasm. Those qualities were reflected in all aspects of our lives, both in the movies we made and the lives we led. In most meaningful ways, they still are, and the best films continue to reflect them. The Artist was a movie that transcended period and caught the joyous essence of the movies, as well as the emotionally volatile temperament of the people who make them.
It won Oscars for Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Director, and it did my heart good.
Films are often compared to dreams—I call them eyelid movies—and watching a movie is a lot like being in a dream state, but, surprisingly, I’ve never dreamed about them. For decades I’ve had one recurring dream that never varies. It’s about Sonny, the good-natured horse with splashes of paint on his shoulder that I worked with when I was a boy.
In the dream I’m with my father. Sonny is old, and we’re taking him back to his breeder, to return him to the pasture where he was bred and to say good-bye. When we get to the pasture, Sonny is already there, but he’s someplace where I can’t see him. I’m upset because I haven’t actually said good-bye to him, and I need to do that.
I set out for the pasture to find Sonny, but before I start walking, I turn around and look back at the place I came from. There I see my family—my daughters, my grandchildren, all the people I’ve loved, some of whom I’ve loved and lost—people I hope and believe I will see again someday. At this point in my dream, I always feel a comforting rush of gratitude for everything I’m leaving behind. And then I set off to find Sonny.
It’s at this point that I wake up. In the dream I never find Sonny, but that doesn’t bother me. One day my dream will eventually have the perfect happy ending that so seldom happens in life. An ending . . . just like in the movies.
Diana Cammarano
Acknowledgments
My memory for my own life is thankfully excellent, but there was a lot of history going on in Hollywood before I got here nearly eighty years ago. Besides all the wonderful stories told to me by older friends who were there at the time, I consulted a number of books on the subject. Among the most valuable were Hollywood: The First Hundred Years by Bruce Torrence, Out with the Stars by Jim Heimann, and Gone Hollywood by Christopher Finch and Linda Rosenkrantz.
I’d like to thank Mort Janklow—a legend in the literary world, and for good reasons—he’s incredibly smart, enthusiastic, and most important, wise—the consummate agent. He immediately saw the potential of You Must Remember This. Rick Kot at Viking edited the book with creative style and grace, and Nick Bromley and all the people at Viking have put the pieces together in a beautiful package. Elizabeth Applegate has been with me for thirty-seven years, through good times and bad, and never faltered. She found pictures of my childhood that I wasn’t even sure I had.
Finally, I want to thank Scott Eyman, my esteemed literary collaborator. Scott’s knowledge of and love for the movies and the industry that produces them is unparalleled, but that’s probably not as important as the fact that writing two books together has bonded us in a deep and valued friendship.
And to all of you who have watched me over the years—my life would not have been possible without you. Thank you.
Index
The page numbers in this index refer to the printed version of this book. The link provided will take you to the beginning of that print page. You may need to scroll forward from that location to find the corresponding reference on your e-reader.
Page numbers in italics refer to photos.
actors. See also specific individuals
earnings, 83
exclusive studio contracts, 171, 182
glamorous image, 169
housing discrimination against, 20, 22, 64, 69
independent productions, 181, 235, 251
influence over public, 140
investments and business ventures, 38, 59, 70, 93–94, 192, 201, 217
ownership of own films, 70, 89
privacy, 14–15, 182–86
reputations, 14, 171, 176–77, 180–82
television work, 250
during wartime, 207–9
work schedule, 9, 169–70
Agua Caliente, 57–59
Ambassador Hotel, 229–31, 231
Anderson, J. Stanley, 27–28
Anderson, Stanley, 27, 44, 66–69, 97
Anderson, Margaret, 27, 66–67
Anderson & Sheppard, 159–62
Arbuckle, Fatty, 26
architecture
Art Deco, 81–82
California ranch house, 122–25
conglomeration of styles, 30, 63, 78, 81, 107–8
drama and excess, 80–82
<
br /> formality with approachability, 73
form-imitates-function designs, 80
modern, 48–49, 78–79, 84
movie theaters, 79
novelty, 96
playfulness, 82
rich detail, 77
romantic styles, 27
Spanish Mediterranean, 63
streamlined designs, 84, 250–51
studio buildings, 80–81
transitional style, 84
Arrowhead Springs Hotel, 38–39, 39, 243
Astaire, Fred, 121, 150, 160–62, 161, 214, 215
Baiano, Solly, 44
Barnett, Vince, 143
Barnsdall, Aline, 108
Barrymore, John, 84–85
Bautzer, Greg “Tex,” 49
Beaumont-Gantt, Ernest Raymond “Don the Beachcomber,” 237–39
Beebe, Lucius, 193
Bel Air, 29–32, 110, 231
Bel Air Country Club, 31, 145, 147–48
Bel Air Hotel, 31–32, 98
Bell, Alphonzo, 30–31
Bellamy, Ralph, 45
Bennett, Constance, 38, 54
Berlin, Irving, 59, 121
Bernheimer family, 22
Beverly Hills
architectural styles, 78–79
barrenness and desolation, 66, 70, 72, 82
construction boom, 75
economic base, 28
intolerance and restrictions, 64, 69
mass transit system, 34–36, 68
movie stars and movie business in, 73–74, 83–84
planning and development, 27–28, 64–66, 65
population growth, 109
tourists, 109
Beverly Hills Hotel, 67–69, 73, 90–99, 91, 94
Birdwell, Russell, 179–80
blacks, 64, 95–96, 214, 231
Blackton, J. Stuart, 64
Bogart, Humphrey, 148, 219, 229, 241
Bond, Ward, 43
boxing, 202–3
Brand, Harry, 175–78, 178
Brandstatter, Eddie, 194–95
brothels, 216
Brown, Clarence, 155, 231
Brown Derby, 195–204, 197, 198
Burton, Richard, 93, 182
Café Montmartre, 194
Cagney, James, 119–20, 226
Carroll, Harrison, 170–71
Case, Frank, 71–72
Catalina, 40–45
Chaplin, Charlie
home, 70, 73
leisure activities, 148–49
Oscar award, 97
ownership of own films, 89
parties, 101, 141, 141–42, 144
public criticism of, 181
restaurant investment, 192
studio, 70, 81
Chasen’s/Dave and Maude Chasen, 224–28, 227, 229, 232
Chateau Marmont, 231–32, 234
Ciro’s, 209–11, 213
Clarebut, Helena and Noel, 32
clothing and style, 159–65
clubs. See gambling clubs; nightclubs
Cobb, Bob, 199–202
Cocoanut Grove, 215, 230–31, 231
Coffee Dan’s, 189
Cohn, Harry, 10–11, 53, 207
Columbia Pictures, 10, 53
Conger, Cornelia, 116
Cook, Wilbur, Jr., 64–65
Cooper, Gary, 58, 150, 160, 201, 227, 250
Cornero, Tony, 55, 191
Courtright, Hernando, 93–95, 97–98
Crawford, Joan, 79, 81, 103, 107, 198, 230
croquet, 151, 151–54, 154
Crosby, Bing, 58, 144, 149, 163, 230
Cruze, James, 144
Daniels, Bebe, 99, 106, 154, 191
Davies, Marion, 101–4, 103, 105–6, 135
Davis, Bette, 109, 207, 210
de Longpré, Paul, 21–22
de Mille, Agnes, 26
DeMille, Cecil B., 23–25, 24, 81, 148
Dennis, Oliver Perry, 66
Depression years, 28, 31, 82
Dietrich, Marlene, 93, 160, 222
Don the Beachcomber’s, 48, 237–40
Draper, Dorothy, 38–39
Duke of Windsor, 159
Dunne, Irene, 94, 222
Edmunds, Larry, 190–91
Embassy Club, 194–95
Fairbanks, Douglas, Sr.
after divorce, 99, 101
death, 73
home, 69–71, 72, 73, 135
involvement in gambling resort, 59
ownership of own films, 70, 89
parties and guests, 71, 73, 140, 141
tastes and fashion sense, 71, 160, 161
fan magazines. See press and publicity
Farmer, Frances, 177
Farrell, Charlie, 45
Farwell, Lyman, 66
fashion, 159–65
Feldman, Charles, 219–22, 221
Fidler, Jimmy, 170, 172
Flynn, Errol, 148, 149, 150, 172
Ford, John, 43, 148
Fox, Virginia, 116–17
Fox, William, 73–74
Fox/20th Century Fox
decline in profits, 249
founding of, 58, 74
new leadership, 118
publicity department, 171, 175, 177
Gable, Clark
death, 250
departure from MGM, 250
home, 110
leisure activities, 58, 147, 154, 227
marriage proposal, 203
military service, 207
parties, 103, 105
tailors, 162
trysts, 90–91
gambling clubs
Agua Caliente, 57–59
Clover Club, 54–55
gamblers, 52–54, 242
gambling ships, 55–57, 56
La Boheme, 204
media coverage and advertising, 55
Sunset Strip location, 204–5
Wilkerson ventures, 204–5, 243
Garland, Judy, 3, 7, 13–14, 31
Gest, David, 3–8
Gibbons, Cedric, 81, 82, 144
Gillette, King, 74
Goetz, William and Edie, 127–31, 128, 150, 206
Goldwyn, Samuel, 11, 23, 24, 152–53, 154, 242
golf courses, 51, 86, 110–11, 144–48, 146
Graham, Sheilah, 170
Grant, Cary, 99, 160, 182, 207
Grauman, Sid, 53, 80, 195
Green, Burton, 66, 67–68
Grieve, Harold, 82, 214
Griffith, D. W., 21, 70
Gully, Richard, 179
Haines, William
career as decorator, 12–13, 79, 81–82, 106–7, 111–13, 127
homosexuality, 12, 176–77
Hansen, Kenneth, 236–37
Harlow, Jean, 58, 110
Hawks, Howard, 153, 222
Hearst, William Randolph, 101–2, 105
Hepburn, Kate, 99, 198
Hollywood. See also studios and movie business
during Depression, 28
founding of, 19–20, 189
historic highlights, 21
intolerance and restrictions, 20, 22–23
mass transit system, 34–36, 35, 36
population growth, 25, 84
Hollywood Canteen, 207–8, 208
Hollywood Hotel, 20–21, 66–67, 67
Holmby Hills, 110, 127
homes. See houses and homes
homosexuality, 12, 176–77, 181
Hopper, Hedda, 104, 170, 172–75, 174, 176, 181
hotels
Agua Caliente, 57–59
A
mbassador Hotel, 229–31, 231
Arrowhead Springs Hotel, 38–39, 39, 243
Bel Air Hotel, 31–32, 98
Beverly Hills Hotel, 67–69, 73, 90–99, 91, 94
Chateau Marmont, 231–32, 234
Hollywood Hotel, 20–21, 66–67, 67
Oceanhouse, 103, 105
houses and homes. See also architecture; specific individuals for descriptions of their homes
construction boom and decline, 75, 82–83
design by set designers, 82
early-twentieth-century survivors, 22
exclusion of actors from neighborhoods, 20, 22, 64, 69
fashionable addresses outside Hollywood, 26
modest Santa Monica and Malibu homes, 99–100
in remote and rural areas, 109–10
Frank Lloyd Wright designs, 108–9
Hudson, Rock, 181
Hug, Fred and Laura, 244–45
Hughes, Howard, 58, 92–93, 99, 204, 232
Jackson, Michael, 3, 4, 5–7
Jesse L. Lasky Feature Play Company, 23–24, 24
Jolson, Al, 38, 59
Koverman, Ida, 174
La Rue, 240–42
Lasky, Jesse L., 23, 24, 25, 59, 99
Leon, Jean, 228–29
Lloyd, Harold
death, 90
family, 87, 88, 89
home, 84, 85–90, 86, 88, 110–11
ownership of own films, 89
retirement and pastimes, 89
Lombard, Carole
homes, 107, 110
marriage proposal, 203
parties, 104–5, 139–40
tax bill, 180
trysts, 90
Long, Baron, 57, 189–91
Loper, Don, 96
Los Angeles, 19–20, 29, 34, 108. See also Beverly Hills; Hollywood
Lubitsch, Ernst, 117, 143
Lyon, Ben, 99, 106, 154
Malibu, 40, 100
Marino, Joe, 244–45
Martin, Dean, 51, 163, 220
May, Cliff, 48, 122–26, 124, 140
Mayer, Louis B.
beach house, 99, 144
daughters and wives, 128–29, 130, 214
horses and stable, 150
during Prohibition, 190
You Must Remember This: Life and Style in Hollywood's Golden Age Page 20
