Bringing Up Oscar: The Story of the Men and Women Who Founded the Academy

by Debra Ann Pawlak

  By 1939, Barthelmess hadn’t made a movie in three years. His bad facelift didn’t help either. The botched surgery left him with limited facial movement. He returned to the screen with a small role in Only Angels Have Wings (1939). When the film was shown to test audiences, they cheered when they saw him. Producers at Columbia Pictures were so impressed they expanded his part. At the time, Barthelmess was fishing off the coast of Guaymas, Mexico so the brass chartered a plane to pick him up and bring him back to Hollywood. The drama, starring Cary Grant and Rita Hayworth, was nominated for two Oscars.

  When the United States entered World War II in early 1942, forty-six-year-old Barthelmess joined the Navy and as a Lieutenant reported for duty in Virginia. While stationed there, he also had the unusual opportunity of swearing in his son, Stewart, at Norfolk’s naval recruiting station. Later that year, his final two movies were released, The Spoilers starring Marlene Dietrich and The Mayor of 44th Street featuring Anne Shirley with Barthelmess in supporting roles.

  After the war, he never returned to filmmaking. Instead, he lived a privileged lifestyle based on his ample savings and savvy real estate investments. Barthelmess enjoyed tennis, swimming, horseback riding, and sailing on his yacht. In 1955, he sold The Dunes, his 50-acre oceanfront estate in Southampton, to automobile magnate Henry Ford II.

  After battling throat cancer for several years and losing his ability to talk, Barthelmess died on August 17, 1963. Best remembered for saving Lillian Gish as she floated downstream in an icy river, he remains the handsome hero who exuded charm and made those matinée girls swoon. When asked why he left the business, he explained: “The fun had gone out of picture making. We used to go to the studio and we hated to leave at night. It doesn’t seem to be that way anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PRETZELS, LAWYERS AND POTENTATES

  Scenarist Bess Meredyth was one of Hollywood’s top penwomen in 1927. Recently divorced from her first husband, actor Wilfred Lucas, their only son, John, attended military school, but stayed with his mother most weekends. The quick-witted Meredyth remained under contract at Warner Bros. and was still enthusiastic when it came to her chosen profession. She once stated:

  Any work that varies is thrilling and writing for the stars is certainly full of variety. Stars differ so from each other. Stories differ. Directors and studios have such varied tactics. And the scenario writer must be wary enough to sense the situations.

  During her tenure with Warners, she met Kertesz Kaminar Mihaly, a newly imported Hungarian film director who always wore a long black coat. After directing several minor films such as The Third Degree (1926) starring John Barrymore’s future wife, Delores Costello, the brothers gave him a biblical story hoping to compete with DeMille. Noah’s Ark (1928), also with Costello, featured newcomer Myrna Loy in the small part of a dancing slave girl. Now known as Michael Curtiz, the director, along with his overcoat, caught Meredyth’s eye. She didn’t mind his accent or that he always called her “Bessky,” but the dark outerwear had to go.

  While they were dating, Meredyth got creative. Riding in her chauffeur-driven Lincoln, she had the driver crank up the heat. Curtiz would eventually shed the coat for the evening and one day just stopped wearing it altogether—much to “Bessky’s” secret delight.

  At work Curtiz stayed with Warner Bros., while Meredyth left for MGM where she penned films for such super silent stars as Greta Garbo and John Gilbert. In 1929, she married Curtiz—his third, her second—and he joined Meredyth at her two-bedroom suite in the Roosevelt Hotel.

  When MGM renewed the popular writer’s contract in 1931, the lesser-known Curtiz continued working at Warner Bros. Meredyth began suffering from what her son referred to as probable “anxiety attacks”—possibly due to the stress brought on by a philandering husband. With various doctors and nurses in attendance, she stayed home for weeks at a time, sometimes bedridden, often crying, and occasionally fainting. She passed her days reading mystery novels, working on jigsaw puzzles and popping pills to sleep. Just as abruptly as her homebound spells started, they stopped and she would return to work as if nothing had happened.

  Despite their infidelities and emotional insecurities, Meredyth and Curtiz remained together. The couple traveled to Europe in 1934 and visited Budapest where he received a hero’s welcome and she met his mother and brothers. From Hungary, they went on to Vienna, Berlin and then to the French Riviera.

  At home, the Curtizes entertained on the weekends, inviting friends over to their picturesque estate in the San Fernando Valley. Besides their fourteen-room English-manor-style house, the estate included a guesthouse, servants’ quarters, swimming pool and private stables. They often practiced skeet shooting and played polo on the grounds. Meredyth also enjoyed horseback riding. Her horse, Shadow, was so named because the steed was afraid of its own silhouette.

  Meredyth even tended her own garden. Local rabbits thought her vegetables were planted just for them. Frustrated, she let her husband take charge of the situation—with one of his shotguns. Curtiz caught the hopping intruder red-handed and shot it, but only clipped its leg. Horrified by what he’d done, Curtiz took the injured rabbit to a veterinarian who fixed the damage. From then on, vegetables were bought from the store.

  By the mid-thirties, Curtiz hit his stride with films like the adventure-filled Captain Blood (1935) starring Errol Flynn in his breakout role and The Charge of the Light Brigade (1936), another popular Flynn feature. Meredyth was now working at Twentieth Century Fox and, tired of her husband’s indiscretions, wanted to end the marriage. She claimed that Curtiz refused to talk to her and often drove her to the brink of hysteria. The couple divorced in 1936, but soon remarried.

  Two years later, Meredyth was earning more than $77,000, but her career was waning, most likely due to her anxiety attacks, which kept her home. Curtiz, however, continued directing big box office films such as the toe-tapping Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) starring a fleet-footed James Cagney and the crowd-pleasing Mildred Pierce (1945) with Joan Crawford. Curtiz also won an Academy Award for directing the wartime drama Casablanca (1942).

  It was often said around the studio that Meredyth provided most of the brains behind Curtiz’s productions—although he would never admit it. According to screenwriter Julius Epstein: “We knew they were Bess Meredyth’s ideas, not his, so it was easy to trip him up. We’d make a change and say, ‘What do you think, Mike?’ and he’d have to go back and ask Bess.”

  Mark of Zorro (1940) starring Tyrone Power was Meredyth’s last picture at Fox. In 1946, she and Curtiz established their own production unit at Warner Bros. where she acted as his story editor. Their first film was The Unsuspected (1947) with Claude Rains. They sold their ranch and moved to Encino where Meredyth discovered that Curtiz was once again cheating. She left him for a short time, but soon returned home.

  Just before he began filming The Proud Rebel (1958) with Alan Ladd, Curtiz was struck with appendicitis. During emergency surgery, doctors noticed a small lump on his prostate. After a biopsy, they determined it was cancerous. The diagnosis was shared with Meredyth and all agreed that it was best not to tell Curtiz. They didn’t want to worry him. Not knowing he was terminally ill, he went on to direct Elvis Presley in King Creole (1958) and The Hangman (1959), a western with Robert Taylor.

  When Curtiz traveled to Italy to work on Francis of Assisi (1961), he wrote “Bessky” a letter. He told her that he didn’t want a divorce, but he would not return to their home. True to his word, Curtiz, often visited his wife, but never stayed. According to her son:

  … Despite all the help she gave him with his scripts, her wonderful sense of humor and his repeated infidelity, he had remained married to a voluntarily bedridden woman for 30 years.

  Now, Meredyth spent even more time in bed. She wasted money on superfluous redecorating, needless servants and uncalled for lavish gifts.

  While filming The Comancheros (1961) with John Wayne, doctors found that Curtiz’s prostate cancer had s
pread. He died on April 10, 1962 leaving Meredyth a large piece of property north of Los Angeles. She promptly sold it and continued spending money paying salaries for a team of nurses to sit with her around the clock as she watched television from her bed.

  Just before her 77th birthday, Meredyth mentioned to her son that she’d always wanted a mynah bird. John bought her one by the name of Ronald Raven. When the bird met Meredyth, it croaked out “Hello, Dolly!” Delighted, she soon taught her pet to swear. Whenever the phone rang, it wasn’t uncommon for the bird to screech: “Somebody get the fucking phone!”

  By the time she reached her late seventies, Meredyth’s money was gone and her health truly failing. She really did need specialized care. With her finances depleted, John had no choice but to take his mother to the Motion Picture Country House and Hospital. After experiencing kidney failure, Meredyth died there on July 14, 1967, but not before teaching her granddaughters how to cheat at cards.

  Another contemporary of Meredyth’s, who also successfully made the transition from silence to sound, was actor Conrad Nagel. Too busy for a game of cards, he was one of the hardest working matinée idols in the business. Between 1928 and 1929, he played in sixteen movies including Warner Bros.’ second talking picture, Glorious Betsy (1928), opposite Dolores Costello. Nagel successfully made the transition from silence to sound with his classically trained baritone voice. Unlike other silent film stars who were felled by talkies, Nagel kept up his steady pace with another ten movies in 1930.

  In addition to his film work, Nagel served as president of the Academy from 1932–1933. He also belonged to both the Lambs’ and Friars’ Clubs. A popular member of the Hollywood colony, his easy stage presence made him a favorite master of ceremonies. He hosted many banquets and award ceremonies and was even called upon to deliver an occasional eulogy. His hectic schedule didn’t help his marriage. Wife Ruth obtained a divorce in Juarez, Mexico in 1934 stating that she and her husband were no longer compatible.

  Nagel then had an on-again-off-again affair with actress/writer Kay Linaker. They met while filming The Girl from Mandalay (1936). Engaged four times, the couple never quite made it to the altar. Linaker worked in many films including Drums Along the Mohawk (1939) as well as several Charlie Chan movies. She is best remembered for a film she didn’t appear in, but co-wrote—The Blob (1958), which featured a handsome young fellow named Steve McQueen.

  By the end of the thirties, Nagel’s matinée idol days were over. He made fewer films and played character roles. Nagel believed that overexposure killed his career. With too many movies in too short a time, he felt that spectators simply became bored with him. In the forties, he infiltrated radio as host of Radio Reader’s Digest featuring a series of independent short stories. He also went back to the boards, starring in several plays including The Skin of Our Teeth and Goodbye, My Fancy.

  In 1945, Nagel took a second wife—Texas-born actress Lynn Merrick, twenty-four years his junior. Instead of celebrating their first anniversary, however, the couple separated and ultimately divorced. According to Mer-rick, Nagel told her he “had been a bachelor for too long to fit into married life.” She further claimed that he made her feel like a guest in her own home and didn’t allow her to shop or give orders to the house staff.

  Single again and not making movies, Nagel still had little downtime. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reported that he “… has participated in four entertainment mediums: silent pictures, talking pictures, radio and the stage.” He was soon to add a fifth—television. By the end of the decade, Nagel was hosting TV’s The Silver Theater. During the fifties and sixties, the former matinée idol continued working in television, guest starring in such TV classics as Bat Masterson, Car 54 Where Are You? and Route 66 where he was rediscovered by a new generation. He even tried the game show circuit, making appearances on To Tell the Truth and What’s My Line?.

  On August 31, 1955, Nagel married for the third time to Canadian girl Michael Coulson Smith, who was twenty-six years younger. That same year, he returned to Hollywood to work with actress Jane Wyman and current matinée idol Rock Hudson in All That Heaven Allows (1955). Soon after filming, Nagel filed for divorce claiming that Smith had physically threatened him. She denied any wrongdoing, but gave him a son, Michael, before their union ended.

  In 1960, Nagel along with Mary Pickford and Harold Lloyd were present at the unveiling of the Beverly Hills Film Monument to the Stars dedicated to those celebrities who had once saved the city from annexation to Los Angeles due to a water supply shortage in 1923. Of the eight so honored only Nagel, Pickford and Lloyd were still alive.

  Nagel retired in 1967. He lived in New York and remained active with the Lambs’ and Friars’ Clubs. In past years, he had also been an active member of the Associated Actors and Artists of America, as well as the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. He also earned a Special Oscar for his tireless efforts involving the Motion Picture Relief Fund. As late as 1961, the Screen Actors Guild appointed Nagel fourth vice president—a position they created just for him, which gave the Guild an official on the East Coast.

  On February 24, 1970, when Nagel missed a meeting of the Lamb’s Club’s admission committee, which he chaired, a fellow member went to his New York apartment. Nagel, who suffered from emphysema, was found sitting in a chair wearing a smoking jacket—dead of a heart attack.

  Wholesome and handsome with his all-American appeal, Conrad Nagel rarely got a break during his busiest years in Hollywood. Filming movies back to back, vacations were out of the question, but Nagel was a trouper who didn’t mind the long hours—as long as he had a good pretzel to crunch.

  California attorney Edwin J. Loeb also worked hard. Still in a partnership with his older brother, Joseph, Loeb devoted most of his time to legal issues concerning the film industry.

  In 1928, he took a temporary break from the movies to work with the California Development Association when they questioned the validity of the state’s pricey earthquake insurance. California required that proof of the insurance must be submitted in order to obtain building permits. Developers believed that the possibility of an earthquake was overhyped and the high cost of the specialty insurance discouraged builders from developing just about any area in the Golden State. It was also noted that more than 95% of all earthquake insurance was purchased in California even though several other states experienced tremors and quakes as well. Ultimately, the requirement was abolished and insurance companies admonished for their exorbitant rates based on one or two scientists’ questionable theories.

  In 1932, Loeb was appointed Western Arbiter over the motion picture industry by movie czar Will Hays. This appointment was given with the consent of many major Hollywood leaders including Louis B. Mayer, Joseph M. Schenck and Adolph Zukor. They felt that since Loeb had worked for all of them in the past, settling issues via arbitration, he should be recognized as the authority over disputes involving contracts, story rights and various other agreements between studios. He would also assist with the “establishment of practice and ethics” for the industry. The press, however, had different thoughts when they described Loeb’s new position as a dictator, which he strongly refuted:

  Any talk about my being the arbiter or dictator over the Western activities of the amusement business is ridiculous, untrue and without any foundation in fact … Further in any matters of dispute which may arise between the various producing companies, and into which I am called as arbiter, my word is not final. Either party to such a dispute has the right of appeal to a committee of our companies’ executives.

  Loeb also sat on the First Board of Governors of Friends of Claremont Colleges. In addition, he and brother Joseph were among the founders of the local chapter of the American Jewish Committee (AJC). When he wasn’t working or performing civic duties, Loeb liked nothing better than pulling an all-nighter with a high stakes card game. His gambling buddies included Schenck, Mayer and Irving Thalberg.

 
The young MGM producer was one of Loeb’s closest friends. When Thalberg died in 1936, Loeb not only acted as a pallbearer at the funeral, he also handled estate matters for Thalberg’s widow, Norma Shearer. In addition, he was actively involved in real estate, divorce proceedings, wills and the occasional criminal charges involving various Hollywood celebrities who called upon him for legal assistance.

  After a long career of tending to the stars and their studios, Edwin Loeb died on November 3, 1970 at the age of 83. The law firm of Loeb and Loeb that he and his brother founded over 100 years ago remains successful and continues to carry out their vision.

  Edwin Loeb wasn’t the only Hollywood heavyweight who made a good living. In 1927, funny man Harold Lloyd was one of the top paid players in the film industry. His current project was a silent movie called Speedy (1928). Filmed on location in New York’s Coney Island, baseball greats Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig each had cameo roles. In keeping up with the times, Lloyd’s next film, Welcome Danger (1929), was originally shot as a silent movie, but half of the footage was reshot with sound before it was released. It also marked the first time that Lloyd worked with a script. The novelty of hearing “The Boy” speak drew large audiences, but the exorbitant cost of filming and refilming didn’t allow for much profit. Welcome Danger was released on October 12, 1929—eleven days later the stock market crashed.

  Economic hard times and sound didn’t mix well with “The Boy” and Lloyd made only six films between 1930 and 1938. He sold the property where his production company stood to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for their Los Angeles Temple. He produced a couple of films for RKO, A Girl A Guy and A Gob (1941) featuring comedienne Lucille Ball and My Favorite Spy (1942) with actress Jane Wyman, before retiring from the business.

  Lloyd may not have been making films, but he found work on the radio as host of The Old Gold Comedy Theater. The weekly anthology series featured half-hour adaptations of recent movies. Guest stars included such big names as Claudette Colbert, Gary Cooper and Edward G. Robinson. Lloyd briefly returned to filmmaking in 1947 with The Sin of Harold Diddlebock (1947), which was written and directed by Preston Sturges—a partner of Howard Hughes at the time. Dissatisfied with the final result, Lloyd once again withdrew from Hollywood.