Johnny repeatedly begged Marilyn to marry him—that he would seek a divorce; to no avail. Though she confessed to loving him, she was never “in love.” He tried every trick in the book, baiting her with money, career, and social status. Having left his wife and children, he set Marilyn up in a posh Beverly Hills home on exclusive North Palm Drive. Though she had never before been so unconditionally loved and accepted by a man, perhaps her deep-rooted fear of abandonment kept her from commitment. Her low self-esteem and undernourished ego may also have interfered with her complete acceptance of a loving relationship. Regardless of her lack of commitment to him, Johnny continued to peddle unimpressive film footage of Marilyn to every studio executive in town. The Hollywood community interpreted his zealous efforts to promote Marilyn as the work of a love-happy fool in the desperate throes of one last fling.
Finally Johnny’s tenacity paid off. Former manager Lucille Ryman arranged for Marilyn to read with director John Huston for a small but important role in The Asphalt Jungle. Johnny and Marilyn met with Huston and producer Arthur Hornblow Disregarding MGM policy, John Huston had given a script to Marilyn before the reading to enable her to be better prepared. Realizing the part demanded a very skilled actress, Johnny enlisted Natasha Lytess to coach Marilyn for her big scene, in which she was to break down and cry.
Everybody was in a good mood at the reading, except Marilyn, who was terrified and nearly catatonic. As the consummate professional, Huston quickly recognized Marilyn’s anxiety and broke the ice by asking for her opinion of the part. Marilyn remained speechless. Huston then asked, “Can you tackle this role?” After a long pause, she admitted she didn’t think she could do it. When it came time to read, Marilyn asked if she could lie down on the floor since her character was supposed to be on a couch and, since there wasn’t a couch in the room, the floor would do. Amused by her gritty sense of realism, Huston graciously acquiesced. Though still awestruck by the director of The Treasure of Sierra Madre, her reading went well enough. But she wanted to try it again. Though Huston had already chosen her, he allowed another reading. Afterward, as she was getting up from the floor, Huston, in his emphatic, dictatorial style, commanded, “Fix yourself up with the wardrobe department.”
Working in front of the camera for John Huston was thrilling to Marilyn. Not only was he the most respected director she had worked with, he was the most interested in the task of acting—as opposed to many other directors who were more interested in doing flashy camera work in order to impress producers. Huston had empathy for his actors. He made Marilyn feel important, and she did her best for him.
Everybody congratulated Johnny on Marilyn’s success. At the first-cut preview, her performance received raves from the audience along with catcalls and admiring whistles.
As Johnny acknowledged her newest triumph, Marilyn felt his love more than ever. It was not only the Marilyn on the silver screen he loved, but Norma Jeane as well—and that made all the difference in the world.
Riding high on The Asphalt Jungle, Johnny planned to negotiate a contract with Metro. “They have a new star on their hands,” he apprised Marilyn. But after a meeting with top brass Dore Schary, their hopes were dashed. Although Schary confessed that he liked Marilyn’s work in the film, he remained unconvinced that she possessed the star quality of Hyde’s other top clients such as Lana Turner and Rita Hayworth.
Marilyn became severely depressed. She had heard the same discouraging words from Zanuck. Never fully confident in herself, the actress started to believe her critics might be right. But Hyde would not hear it, reassuring her that she was the most talented, beautiful actress alive.
Aware that timing made all the difference in a business where memories were short, Johnny Hyde pursued director Joseph Mankiewicz to cast Marilyn for the role of Miss Cawell in All About Eve, the story of an ambitious ingenue and a fading star. Mankiewicz had received an Oscar for directing A Letter to Three Wives. A consummate filmmaker, his talents were also respected in the fields of screenwriting and producing. He did not have John Huston’s eccentricity or flair, but he was intelligent and sensitive. The making of the film was a joy, although Marilyn was intimidated by its all-star cast, including Bette Davis, Anne Baxter, George Sanders, Celeste Holm, Gary Merrill, and Thelma Ritter.
During the filming, Marilyn managed to steal a few scenes and hearts. George Sanders instantly took a liking to her. Her fresh beauty, innocence, and honesty were qualities lacking in Zsa Zsa Gabor, his wife. After a take for their scene together, George invited Marilyn to the commissary for lunch. No sooner had they sat down in the dining room than the waitress informed George that he had a phone call. After taking it, he excused himself from the lunch table. Marilyn insisted he finish his meal; he had told her that he had been hungry on the set. But he refused and stalked out of the commissary.
, Later that afternoon Marilyn discovered what had happened. A hired spy on the set instructed Marilyn that hereafter she could not speak to George unless at a considerable distance. George’s wife Zsa Zsa was jealous of the young actress and feared for her marriage. Sanders had spoken very highly of Monroe to her, and Zsa Zsa suspected the worst.
After this incident, Marilyn ate lunch alone. While strolling to the commissary, she was approached by the young Cameron Mitchell, who had been a hit playing Happy in Death of a Salesman in the original Broadway production. He had originally figured Marilyn to be the sort of dumb beautiful blonde Hollywood starlet that theater actors despised. But she turned out to be a many-faceted person, not just attracted to the glitzy life, but interested in exploring the psyche. She had begun reading the works of thinkers such as Freud and Menninger.
As they spoke, they walked around the lot for exercise. Marilyn caught sight of an extremely thin, tall man with deep-set eyes who resembled her childhood idol, Abraham Lincoln. The lanky gentleman was engaged in conversation with a short intense man. Cameron recognized the tall man as Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Arthur Miller. His companion was director Elia Kazan. Marilyn was introduced and instantly bedazzled, but nothing came of the attraction then.
When All About Eve was finally released, reviewers enthusiastically singled out Bette Davis’s performance, and few neglected to sing the praises of newcomer Marilyn Monroe. The film was a major critical and financial success. In 1950, the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences named the film Best Picture, but Bette Davis was not named Best Actress. Everyone had noticed the small part played by Marilyn Monroe. A star was born.
7
On Her Own
Johnny Hyde continued to press for marriage, and Marilyn continued to refuse, but during their frequent nights out, she allowed Johnny to introduce her as his fiancée. Marilyn professed to love him but would stubbornly stop short of matrimony, insisting that she could never hurt him. But she did.
One quiet evening in their Beverly Hills mansion, Marilyn asked Johnny to go upstairs and get some new reading material from their library. As he climbed the staircase, severe pain struck under his arm. As he grabbed the banister in excruciating pain, Marilyn called the ambulance. He was experiencing a coronary, his second. Hyde’s doctor ordered him to stay in bed, leave his strenuous business in Hollywood, and take a vacation in sunny Palm Springs. On December 17, 1951, while convalescing in the Springs, Johnny suffered another coronary. After being rushed by ambulance from Palm Springs to Cedars of Lebanon in Los Angeles, he died. Donald and Jay, two of his four sons, were by his side.
His family made funeral arrangements at the Church of the Recessional at Forest Lawn near Columbia Studios. The film community attended. Hundreds of floral arrangements came from adoring friends and colleagues. Hyde’s immediate family tried to ban Marilyn from the funeral and refused to sit with her when she arrived. A few of her close friends who attended gave refuge to the grieving “widow.”
While passing the coffin, Marilyn was overcome by tears and laid her body over the bronze casket. Screeching in terror, she begged, “My God, my God
, Johnny, please wake up!” Her sobs resonated throughout the crowded chapel. Johnny’s death had brought Marilyn’s deepest feelings to the surface. Her old rationalizations—“You’re too old,” “I’m not in love with you,” or “I’m in love with somebody else”—couldn’t help now, couldn’t prevent the pain of losing another loved one.
After Johnny’s death Marilyn refused to leave the house, ordered food delivered, and drowned herself in grief. She was tortured by guilt and feelings of failure. Might she have saved or prolonged his life if she had fulfilled his wish to marry? Like her mother and grandmother before her, she blamed herself for not making her man happy and, in the end, she cried alone for weeks.
Johnny’s will left the residence to his heirs. His children heartlessly and immediately asked Marilyn to vacate the premises.
The funeral had been held December 20, only five days before Christmas, a holiday that had usually been difficult. Early in her life she had spent Christmas with Aunt Grace or Aunt Ana, rarely with her mother. But now both Ana and Johnny were dead. She would be alone this Christmas.
Still under contract with Fox, Marilyn was frustrated with the lack of attention she received from the casting office. Mindful that the public and critics had admired her last two performances, she checked daily for new work, but there was nothing. The strain between Zanuck and the actress was palpable. His strategy was to punish Marilyn Monroe for knowing “too much” about him by giving her the cold shoulder. He would make her pay for ignoring him by returning the same treatment, doubled in spades. Every producer and director knew that even if she was perfect for a role, Marilyn would not be considered by Zanuck. They dared not overstep him.
At about this time, Marilyn became friendly with gossip columnist Sidney Skolsky, who lent a sympathetic ear. Sidney and Marilyn spent many mornings drinking coffee and afternoons eating hamburgers at Schwabs Drug Store on Sunset Boulevard, where actors, writers, and sycophants hung out. Marilyn attached herself to Skolsky to fill the void left by Johnny’s death. Once again, she found an older, wiser man to encourage, advise, and understand her. She would call to invite him to drive with her to Malibu. She enjoyed the ride down Sunset Boulevard, passing the nightclubs and restaurants she had frequented with Hyde, driving past the mansions that lined the boulevard, meandering through Beverly Hills, Brentwood, and into Pacific Palisades. When rounding the last turn, the view of the Pacific Ocean was always her favorite moment. The blue skies and dark blue ocean against the sand struck a comfortable chord; tranquility seemed possible as they came closer to Malibu Beach, the most exclusive and serene community in the area.
Skolsky encouraged her to keep busy, to go to college. On the way to the beach one day, as they were passing UCLA, Sidney suggested that she enroll in classes there. In February 1951, Marilyn took his advice and enrolled in art appreciation and a literature course. The works of the masters, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian especially, caught her eye. Years later one of her professors revealed that she had attended class without makeup, in jeans and sweatshirt, always humble, attentive, and modest.
Inspired to better her living conditions, she rented her first luxury studio apartment in the Beverly Carlton Hotel on Olympic Boulevard in Beverly Hills. Earning seventy-five dollars a week, she filled her apartment with new furniture.
Before making her daily rounds at the studio, she worked out with weights as Jim Dougherty had taught her, and drank eggnogs for breakfast. There was a lovely pool situated on the grounds, but sunbathing and tanning were not to her liking—her makeup artist had warned her of their detrimental effects to her skin.
Unlike most Beverly Hills residents who preferred driving from block to block in air-conditioned automobiles, Marilyn liked to go for walks. She was an unusual sight, a beautiful woman walking residential streets without makeup, wearing simple clothing. Marilyn would window shop for a while, then stop for groceries. With a broiler as part of the kitchenette, she enjoyed steak or chops and always had raw carrots on hand that she would munch on well into the evening. Marilyn never had liquor in the apartment, preferring fruit juices instead. Always conscious of her figure, she took care of herself. It showed. Her skin was radiant, her hair was shiny, her body was firm.
As her career stagnated, Skolsky urged her to speak to Fox’s publicity-department head Roy Croft, who decided to order pinup shots. Many shootings were scheduled with talented photographers and makeup people, including Whitey Snyder whenever she could book him. For him to be working so much with a mere starlet was unusual. They had been friends since she first appeared in front of the camera. Snyder taught her about makeup, they spent time on location together, and he would invite her out with his family.
Countless photo sessions were held. The studio used the resulting pictures to promote the stars. Mass quantities were distributed to the armed forces. Lonely soldiers would fantasize and dream of spending a night with their favorite pinup girls. When the soldiers were on leave they attended the latest movies in droves, and during the Korean War Marilyn quickly became a favorite.
Though the long hours were tedious, her seductiveness and natural beauty in front of the camera bolstered her confidence and composure.
But it was nearing May 10, 1951—the Fox contract was about to expire. Renewal seemed hopeless. Her photos were terrific and adored, but Zanuck was still not calling.
Spyros Skouras was a very powerful man. His influence in the film industry was even greater than Zanuck’s. A party, featuring Marilyn, June Haver, Anne Baxter, and Tyrone Power was set up for visiting film exhibitors. Monroe mingled and rubbed elbows with Skouras, who took an immediate liking to her. Who could blame him; she was the most gorgeous girl in the stable of women under contract at the studio. As a former operator of theater chains, Skouras had become independently wealthy, wealthier than his partners, Schenck, Goetz, and Zanuck. Skouras insisted that she be seated at the head table for dinner. The next morning he renegotiated her contract with the William Morris Agency. Marilyn’s new contract was standard, but he raised her initial salary to $500 a week. The semi-annual increases were to be $250 per week.
Zanuck was under the gun. The exhibitors had spoken and spoken loudly. Zanuck relented. He began avidly searching for sexy roles, albeit small ones, for Marilyn Monroe. Light comedies were chosen initially; first, As Young as You Feel. Marilyn was cast as the incompetent stenographer to an operator, played by Monty Woolley. Released in August 1951, the film rated no more than second of a double bill.
Love Nest was the next jewel, starring June Haver and William Lundigan. Marilyn had another inconsequential role playing Lundigan’s WAC buddy from the service who moves into his apartment. His wife, played by Haver, tries her best to make a go of this rather bizarre living arrangement, only to have her husband bring more of his freeloading GI buddies home.
Norma Jeane attracted attention during the shooting. Employees on the lot were making up excuses to get out of work just to see the bombshell perform. Director Joseph Newman had to close the set.
After seeing the first rushes of Love Nest, Zanuck released a positive statement to the studio publicity mill: “Miss Monroe is the most exciting personality in Hollywood in a long time.” The release was a backhanded compliment. The autocrat did not like to reverse himself on anything, least of all this troublesome Marilyn Monroe, but he did so anyway.
The publicity wheel at Fox was turning, and Marilyn responded to numerous requests for interviews. She was polite, charming, and witty with reporters. Monroe had already developed the blonde-bombshell image, and now she was playing movie star. Behind the scenes Marilyn’s personal life was very private. She no longer attended premieres as she had with Johnny Hyde. She stayed close to home and did not gallivant around town in nightclubs and restaurants to “be seen.” She concentrated exclusively on getting ahead.
Satisfied with Marilyn’s willingness to pay her dues, Zanuck assigned her to another forgettable film, Let’s Make It Legal, starring Claudette Colbert and Macdonald
Carey as a divorced couple. The head of wardrobe dressed Monroe in low-cut dresses for every scene. The studio chief knew what he wanted from her. She was the only lively element in this otherwise dull comedy.
Producers Jeff Wald and Norman Krasna were planning the movie version of Clifford Odet’s Clash by Night for RKO. Tallulah Bankhead had recently played the lead on Broadway but the play had not been a hit. Wald and Krasna saw its potential but altered the lead character and location. They created a new role for a flirt named Peggy. As Wald said, “Norman and I were looking for somebody to put in this picture to attract the teenagers in the audience; somebody with a new kind of sex appeal. I didn’t think of Marilyn at first.”
The studio had already cast Barbara Stanwyck, Paul Douglas, and Robert Ryan as the leads. By coincidence, Sidney Skolsky overheard Wald complain about not yet finding a sexy young actress for the role of Peggy. Skolsky dared to suggest Marilyn Monroe. Wald immediately doubted the choice, saying, “She can’t have anything if Metro released her after Asphalt Jungle.” After debating with Wald for a while, Sidney finally proposed that Wald should at least meet her for lunch to see for himself. At a quaint restaurant on Melrose Avenue, Skolsky presented Marilyn to Wald and left him to his own devices. As usual, Marilyn wore a low-cut blouse, pedal pushers, and loafers. Wald was impressed by her youthful sensuality, quick wit, and unpretentiousness.
Wald decided she should costar in the film and called Lew Schreiber at Twentieth to arrange for her price, and was told she would cost only $3,000 for six weeks’work. The relatively low price bothered him at first. What was wrong with her? But she was signed to have equal billing with Stanwyck, Douglas, and Ryan, although Wald knew this would create waves of discontent. The first step was a formal introduction to the cast. Stanwyck found the newcomer cute, while Douglas defined her as a “hot number” and Ryan thought of her as a scared rabbit. Marilyn was gracious and deferential to Stanwyck. Later, during the shooting of the film, Stanwyck would reveal her honest feelings about the actress to her dresser, Marjorie Plecher. She said, “This girl is going to go a long, long way and become a big star. ”
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