Roddy McDowall
MAKES LOVE TO “JOHN THE APOSTLE”
Jerry Fairbanks was the producer of the above-noted Pepsi commercial. He was impressed with Jimmy and told Alcock, “The kid is clearly the star. He has something.”
As months went by, more and more professionals in the industry kept saying that Jimmy “had something,” although without being able to define it.
Fairbanks had also been designated as the executive producer of an upcoming inspirational/religious film, Hill Number One, and he invited Jimmy to audition for a role. Jimmy was more than willing. and Fairbanks asked him the next day if he’d show up to meet the film’s director, Arthur Pierson.
He didn’t want to, but Jimmy read for Pierson and for one of its consultants and contributors, Father Patrick Peyton. Collectively, they agreed to cast him in the minor role of John the Apostle, incarnated as a character in the film, supposedly for transmission of spiritual inspiration and instruction.
[Hill Number One, set in a U.S. Army camp during the Korean War, is the story of a chaplain who arrives to find the soldiers demoralized. He tells them that the hill they are storming used to be known as Calvary. The storyline then switches to flashback, relaying the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Jimmy—wearing a djellaba that looked like it had been borrowed from a high school drama production—played John the Apostle. The other actors, also in robes inspired by the Bible, resembled burly, bearded linebackers. When Jimmy donned his headdress, he evoked a desert sheik.]
Some fifty actors had been signed for this religious epic, including many name stars such as Joan Leslie, Gene Lockhart, Leif Erickson, Regis Toomey, and Roddy McDowall.
The teleplay was to be broadcast on the Family Theater on March 25, 1951, where it would reach an audience of forty-two million viewers, the largest number of people ever to watch a James Dean film at one time.
That night, Jimmy told Bast, “I find my lines sickening. They’re so fucking phony. I have to say such crap as ‘Rejoice! He has risen as He promised!’”
As director, Pierson had little time for him, but Jimmy sought him out when he learned that he had helmed Marilyn Monroe in one of her first films, Dangerous Years (1948) for Fox. Cast opposite the star, William Halop, Marilyn had played a waitress, Evie, in a little down called Gopher Hole. She worked in this jukebox joint, a gathering place for rowdy teenagers.
When Jimmy asked about Marilyn, Pierson admitted that he was surprised at how fast her star had risen, claiming that Fox had fired her after the end of filming.
Jimmy, looking biblical, or faux-biblical, alongside David Young, in Hollywood, in the late 1940s.
“She was heartbroken,” Pierson said. “She told me she didn’t want to make films to earn big money. I remember her exact words: ‘I want to become a famous movie star so that everyone will love me. That way, I’ll be surrounded by love and affection, something I’ve never had before.’”
“One day, I’ll meet her,” Jimmy predicted. “I’ll give her more love than she can handle.”
***
Jimmy enjoyed meeting Ruth Hussey, whose bright, sophisticated delivery saved many a film. He’d seen her in The Philadelphia Story with Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart.
He brought Hussey a cup of coffee. “Oh, darling,” she said, “thank you.” She spoke about the vagaries of being a film star. “Save some money on the way up, because you’ll need it during your descent. I guess I was always destined to play second stringers. I’m fading from films now—hence, appearing in this turkey. Guess what’s coming up for me? I’ve been asked to play Jerry Lewis’ mother in That’s My Boy. Yes, the never-great Ruth Hussey is reduced to that indignity for a paycheck.”
Roddy McDowall, former child star, as he appeared, all grown up and connected to every underground scene in Hollywood, in the late 1940s.
As fellow cast members, Jimmy and McDowall were attracted to each other. As he’d later admit to Bast, “Roddy and I sucked each other’s cocks. He’s got me beat. Really well hung. He’s very likable, but a bit of the nervous type.”
The former child star had been known to perform auto-fellatio at private gay parties. “The two of us one night went to this mansion in Beverly Hills, where we put on an exhibition for guests,” Jimmy confided to Bast.
***
When Hill Number One was shown on TV, Jimmy’s first fan club was formed at the Immaculate Heart School in Los Angeles. It would be the first of many fan clubs established during his lifetime and beyond the grave.
Bast accompanied Jimmy to one of its meetings, which consisted mostly of impressionable girls ages fourteen to sixteen.
“Jimmy was thrilled at this adulation,” Bast said. “An honest-to-God fan club. I was his chaperone at this lovefest. He was as nervous as hell.”
“When we arrived at this hall in the Los Feliz district, Jimmy got out of the car and turned to me. ‘Let’s go in and face the jailbait.’”
There were about twenty girls waiting inside, each with an autograph book. Jimmy signed all of them and gave each of the girls a beaming smile. “He looked dreamily into their eyes, making them swoon, as he checked out their budding breasts,” Bast said.
Jimmy Stars in an Exhibition
AT A PARTY HOSTED BY CECIL BEATON FOR BRITISH GAYS
Although largely devoid of details, the story of Jimmy’s occasional performances at private sexual exhibitions has been documented in books before, including a mention in one edition of The Hollywood Babylon series.
As he confessed to his roommate, William Bast, Jimmy performed in a sexual exhibition with Roddy McDowall, whom he’d met while filming Hill Number One. After their brief fling, Roddy suggested that “for a lark,” they perform before some members of the cream of the crop of British expatriates, living in or else visiting Hollywood.
Cecil Beaton, the famous designer, photographer, and author, was staying in a mansion in Beverly Hills. He was throwing a party only for those “born and bred in Britain.”
It took some persuasion, but apparently, Roddy finally convinced Jimmy to perform a sex act with him in front of Beaton’s mostly celebrated guests. Cary Grant was rumored to have attended the exhibition.
Beaton was an intimate friend of some of the most distinguished people on earth, including Picasso, Jean Cocteau, Winston Churchill, Laurence Olivier, and André Gide. He was known for his affair with Greta Garbo, and he also photographed members of the Royal family, including Queen Elizabeth.
Roddy and Jimmy arrived early at Beaton’s rented manse. He was one of the most talkative men Jimmy had ever met. “Welcome to this nouveau riche home,” Beaton said. “It’s the ultimate statement in Hollywood vulgarity—that’s why I love it so. When in Hollywood, why not wallow in vulgarity?”
Cecil Beaton, depicted with his trusted Rolleiflex camera, above, was the most arts-connected and avant-garde photographer in Europe. When he came to Hollywood on a “getting to know you” visit, he rented a house and threw some parties. Jimmy was part of the entertainment.
As the three men talked over drinks, whereas the British-born Roddy chatted amicably with Beaton, Jimmy had little to say.
“I have seduced women but I infinitely prefer men,” Beaton said. “I’ve gone from Gary Cooper to Marlene Dietrich. Women have their place. I love to dance with them, including the Duchess of Windsor. At intimate parties, I’ve also danced and kissed the duke.”
“I like to talk to women about plays, gowns, fashion,” Beaton continued. “I’m particularly interested in their lovers—take Porfirio Rubirosa, for example. He has one of those enormous octaroon cocks.”
“My time in Hollywood is made more endurable because I have my own octoroon cock upstairs,” Beaton claimed. “He used to be a boxer. He’s not the first black boxer who’s made love to me. He is built to the point of monstrosity. God should put a limit on penile measurements. The penis can be just too gross in some instances.’
Before his guests arrived, Beaton to
ok Jimmy and Roddy into a studio, where he asked them to strip so he could photograph each of them in the nude—“Only for my private collection, darlings, no one else will see them.”
Details of that night became known only because author Christopher Isherwood attended, and later revealed what happened to such friends as Tennessee Williams, Gore Vidal, and ultimately, Truman Capote, who virtually broadcast it to everyone on his grapevine.
According to Isherwood, about thirty guests were shown into the master bedroom where Jimmy and Roddy were lying nude under a spotlight on a king-size bed. Otherwise, the room was in darkness.
The bodies of both Roddy and Jimmy were met with sighs of approval. Slowly, the two young men began to make love to each other. A wild sixty-nine was followed by Jimmy sodomizing Roddy.
After the voyeurs filed out, Jimmy and Roddy put back on their clothing and went downstairs to have drinks with their flirtatious voyeurs, some of whom tried to line up dates with them.
When Jimmy discussed the exhibition with Bast, his roommate wanted more details, but didn’t get them.
All that Jimmy told him was this: “I wanted the fucking limeys to see what an all-American boy, born and bred in the cornbelt of Indiana, looked like. I’m suntanned all over, as you know. That really turned them on. Those Brits don’t get enough sunshine in their country. All of them have lilywhite bodies. When they get to Hollywood, they really go for suntanned boys.”
Grand and gay literary chic... Christopher Isherwood attended a Los Angeles “exhibition” for British expatriates
He did add one final comment: “Roddy and I should have been paid.”
How Two-Timing Jimmy Ended, Violently,
TWO SEPARATE ROMANCES WITH YOUNG WOMEN
When Bast was working nights at CBS, he sometimes asked Jimmy—who at the time was unemployed—to retrieve Beverly Wills and, as a chauffeur, to transport her to script sessions or to parties.
Over a period of the next ten days, she began an affair with Jimmy. For a while, Bast didn’t have a clue. To keep up appearances, Jimmy and Beverly continued to double date with Bast and Jeanetta Lewis.
Beverly later recalled this secretive time in their lives. “After getting fired at CBS, he tried to get an acting gig and continued to show up at cattle calls, hoping for a job. Nothing was happening. However, he often had money, but he never told me how he got it. Later, rumors surfaced that he was hustling. I didn’t want to think about that.”
“Often, he was horribly depressed, almost suicidal. He told me, ‘The world just doesn’t understand me—it never will.’”
One night, Beverly met with Bast and opted to tell him the truth. “You’re not going to like this,” she said, “but Jimmy and I have fallen in love. Please forgive me. But these things happen. Neither of us would do anything to hurt you.”
He responded in anger. “You mean he has time to fit you into his busy schedule?”
“Don’t be hurtful,” she cautioned. “We’re serious. There’s talk of marriage.”
“I don’t think Jimmy and I can go on living together in the penthouse,” he said. “There’d be two of you making love in our double bed while I listen to the sounds from the sofa, nearby.”
Later, he confessed that he didn’t really care that Beverly had abandoned him for Jimmy. What he didn’t tell her was that he’d met Paul Winston (called “Craig” in his memoirs), and that he was falling in love with him. He described Winston as a “Nordic knockout, a blonde, blue-eyed and muy simpatico Marine, twenty-four years old. He had a gentle smile, an intimate voice, and a compelling air of sensitivity about him.” Hailing from Minnesota, he was stationed at the Camp Pendleton Marine Base, in nearby San Diego County.
Unknown to Bast, Jimmy was continuing to date Jeanetta Lewis, although seeing her less frequently, of course. Sometimes, he’d just arrive at her apartment, even as late as two o’clock in the morning, after he dropped off Beverly at her mother’s mansion.
One night, Bast was wandering along the Pacific Palisades when he decided to drop in on Jeanetta. He wanted to discuss the new situation between Jimmy and Beverly. Perhaps she could console him over the loss of his two friends.
When he told her what was going on, she exploded. “That two-timer! What a jerk! That asshole has been stringing me along.”
He was surprised to learn that Jimmy was still dating her and often slept over at her apartment.
The couple talked until dawn, as Jeanetta urged Bast to move out of the penthouse. “Jimmy is bad for the both of us.”
By mid-morning, she drove him to Mar Vista, about two miles from the Pacific. There, Bast answered an ad and decided to rent a small studio at 12623 Green Avenue. The rent was reasonable, and he decided he didn’t need a roommate.
He called his landlady to notify her that he would no longer be responsible for the rent. It was up to Jimmy to pay it by himself.
Jeanetta joined him on the drive back to the penthouse to lend moral support as he was packing his clothing. Apparently, the landlady had already informed Jimmy of this new development in his living arrangement.
Bast later remembered, “Jimmy was waiting for me downstairs. I’d never seen him so furious. He denounced me as ‘a dirty little snake.’ I tried to calm him down, but he lunged for my throat and started to choke me.”
Seeing what was happening, Jeanetta ran toward the two men and tried to break up the fight. She screamed at Jimmy, “You’ll kill him!”
Momentarily, Jimmy got control of himself, but within a minute, he’d turned on Jeanetta. “So Billy Boy is fucking you now?”
“What do you care, you little creep?” she said. “You’re a god damn liar. A fucking jerk.”
With his anger still bubbling, he balled up his fist and slammed it into her face. Blood spurted from her nose.
Regaining his breath, Bast feared a neighbor would spot them and call the police. Using all his diplomatic skills, he managed to usher them both back into the penthouse so Jeanetta could stop her bleeding.
Once inside, she rushed to the bathroom. The sounds that emerged made both men realize that she was vomiting.
Suddenly, Jimmy was apologetic. “I was an animal,” he admitted. “Don’t leave me.”
“It’s over,” Bast said. “I’m packing my things and heading out. I don’t want to see you again.”
Jimmy left the apartment and went and stood by Jeanetta’s car parked by the sidewalk. He stood there an hour, waiting to them to come down. With her freshly washed face, she walked by him without speaking.
In contrast, Bast shook his hand. “It’s been great, kid. We’ve had our moments.”
Jimmy didn’t say anything, but looked forlorn through teary eyes.
Bast later admitted, “It was time for me to leave and get on with my life. I knew that temporarily, at least, Beverly would pay the rent for Jimmy if he didn’t make it hustling. Some nights, he didn’t return home alone, and I knew he was pursuing ‘a source of revenue,’ to put it in its most polite terms.”
“Another reason for me to leave was that I was starting to fall in love with him myself until my Marine came along. The god had sent him directly from Valhalla.”
Rogers Brackett had flown to New York for a three-week visit, but had phoned Jimmy, even holding out the suggestion that he might want him to move in with him. Jimmy knew he couldn’t see Beverly every night and return to a home with Brackett, too, so a decision would have to be made.
In the meantime, he needed money, and he was determined to contact some of his new connections, such imposing figures a George Cukor and Spencer Tracy. He also wanted to call John Carlyle, just for fun.
The time had come for a showdown with Beverly. That summer, she had moved north to Paradise Cove to stay with her father and his new girlfriend. One night, she threw a beach party for her coven of “Hollywood brats.” Jimmy was invited and told to bring his appetite, because there would be a pig barbecue on her father’s oceanfront terrace. She informed him that she’d even hi
red a four-piece band from Laguna Beach.
As Beverly remembered it, “Jimmy arrived with a chip on his shoulder. It was like he was spoiling for a fight.” Two hours later, after Jimmy refused to dance with her, a “Beach Boy Adonis” (her words) asked her to dance.
“I guess we were dancing too close,” she said. “He was in a bikini and was rubbing up against me. I was trying to make Jimmy jealous. At any rate, he came up to the young man and grabbed hold of one of his breasts, pinching it as tight as he could.
“Get away from her, you faggot. I’ll black both of your eyes.”
“I tried to keep the boy from striking Jimmy,” she said. “He stormed off the terrace and headed down the beach. When I caught up with him, he called me a whore and slapped my face. I fell over in the sand. I knew it was over for us. That’s why I later wrote that piece about why I didn’t marry Jimmy Dean.”
A Drunken Spencer Tracy Seduces Jimmy,
WHO STEALS HIS WALLET
Jimmy called Spencer Tracy, who remembered him and chastised him a bit for not calling sooner. The aging actor agreed to meet him at one o’clock the following afternoon at George Cukor’s house.
After Jimmy drove there, the Japanese houseboy directed him to the pool area, where Tracy was lounging in the sun.
“Hi, kid,” he called to him. “Come on over.”
Jimmy later admitted that he was rather tongue-tied but Tracy put him at ease with his friendly banter. Occasionally, he drank from a flask. “George rarely stocks wine or booze. The cheap bastard. I have to bring my own whenever I visit.”
Although Jimmy hoped that he might talk about Katharine Hepburn, with whom he was famously linked, a slightly drunk Tracy began discussing his wife, the former actress Louise Treadwell. He said he’d been to visit her that morning to spend time with his daughter, Susie, and his son, John. It was with a sense of despair that he told Jimmy that John had been born deaf. “Imagine living in a world where you could never hear the birds sing.”
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