The DiMaggios had leased a quaint, charming house on North Palm Drive in Beverly Hills. The simple stucco English cottage with swimming pool and beautifully landscaped grounds was easily accessible to the studios and restaurants. Marilyn called Jane Russell to help with organizing the housework. The new wife was determined to make her husband happy. But her domestic fantasies were immediately dashed once rehearsals for Show Business commenced. She arrived home every night late and exhausted. Her husband became resigned to eating frozen dinners or take-out Italian food alone. To make matters worse, Marilyn’s worst fear—that she had no talent—was surfacing. The Show Business cast was made up of seasoned song-and-dance professionals.
Ethel Merman played the lead while Dan Daily, Donald O‘Connor, and Mitzi Gaynor comprised the supporting cast. Next to them the rattled Marilyn was awkward and inept. Broadway’s top choreographer, Robert Alton, became frustrated with her work, complaining bitterly that she had two left feet, was clumsy as an ox, had no rhythm, and was just plain uncoordinated. Marilyn demanded that Alton be replaced by Jack Cole. Since Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Jack had been patiently aware and worked around her limitations, providing the illusion that she knew how to dance well enough to bring out her sexiness. Though she would stay on the set practicing her moves and singing into the night, her performance was barely improving. Behind her back, Marilyn’s costars snickered at her inabilities, and she sensed their disgust. Having just cried her heart out in the dressing room, she would return to rehearsals with puffy red eyes. O’Connor, several inches shorter than she, was badly miscast as her love interest. The actress was certain her fans would find their pairing unbelievable. Director Walter Lang also grew impatient, and Marilyn was clearly the standing joke on the set.
Every evening Marilyn, needing Joe’s comfort, came home to a depressed husband. He had become impatient, irritated, and unwilling to give her the support she hoped for. One day when he was visiting the set, he actually refused to have his picture taken with his wife but granted one with his favorite performer, Ethel Merman. The meaning was clear. Joe felt humiliated and was punishing Marilyn for believing she could get by simply by exposing her breasts and wiggling her famous behind. He had been the best in his field and he demanded the best from those around him, especially from his wife.
Marilyn’s public image had long been an embarrassment to Joe and some friends had suggested that a man should have more control over his woman. He began questioning whether she really loved him or his fame or his money. Was she just using him on her climb to the top?
When Marilyn cried to her husband for sympathy and understanding, she got only coldness and rejection. It tore her up inside. All that confidence she had developed with him had vanished by now. She was once again alone. Had she made more effort to be the wife he wanted, perhaps their relationship would not be in so much trouble. Marilyn was not only a failure as a performer, but a failure as a woman and wife. Flooded by all her deepest fears and insecurities, she desperately sought to know that he loved her. One small consolation Marilyn garnered was from Irving Berlin, who complimented the actress on her rendition of his “After You Get What You Want, You Don’t Want It,” in the film Show Business. This irony did not soothe her.
Whenever Mrs. DiMaggio was home early enough, the pair went out to dinner only to stare blankly at each other. Marilyn tried psychoanalysis, but got nowhere. The newlyweds needed a marriage counselor instead. The growing silence was deadly—the less able they were to express their feelings, the more explosive their arguments became. Others were noticing the change in their relationship. Mrs. DiMaggio conveniently brushed the inquiries aside by reminding the press that her husband had long been tired of publicity hounds and that he always valued his privacy. The excuse could not save her from the truth that their marriage was shutting down.
As production on Business was closing down, Sidney Skolsky introduced Marilyn to Paula Strasberg. Paula and her husband Lee were training actor friends like Marlon Brando in the Stanislavsky method at the Actors Studio in New York. Acutely aware of her urgent need for refinement, depth, and growth as an actress, Marilyn was not to be dissuaded from going to New York to study. Failure only inspired her to try harder.
There would be no rest for Marilyn. Twentieth had signed her to work with director Billy Wilder in New York on a film that would provide one of her most memorable roles. As the naive, dizzy model in The Seven-Year Itch, Marilyn would help costar Tom Ewell, playing a summer bachelor, get over his marriage blues. Again Marilyn and her costar seemed mismatched, but the talented Wilder, one of Hollywood’s finest and best known as a women’s director, was able to make it look good. Itch was another successful Broadway play. The sound working relationship that Wilder developed with Marilyn was facilitated by his understanding that she was not a morning person. The actress would be able to continue working into the night long after other actors had grown tired and gone home. Therefore, at least initially, he tolerated her chronic tardiness on the set. The director also effectively made Natasha Lytess into an asset on the set rather than a hindrance to Marilyn’s performance.
Though her marriage was suffering from severe strain, Monroe hoped that her performance in Itch would redeem her as a talented actress, especially in the eyes of her husband. Joe refused to go to New York because Natasha, whom he detested by now, was also going. Clad in a beige walking suit with a white fox fur slung over her shoulders, Marilyn was greeted at Idlewild Airport by a crowd of zealous followers. Reporters were quick to notice she was without her husband. After checking into the St. Regis in Manhattan, she discovered she didn’t like the suites reserved for her party by the studio. The ideal hotel would have been the Plaza, overlooking Central Park, where the serene atmosphere was more conducive to getting a good night’s sleep. But the studio insisted on the St. Regis. A few days later Joe reconsidered and joined her, also to complain bitterly about hotel arrangements. At least they agreed on one thing, as they joked about their suites. Those first few nights they appeared together at their old spots, Toots Shor’s, and the Stork Club. Marilyn secretly met with Milton Greene and his attorney in the afternoons.
The studio had lately offered her two dreary roles, one playing a mistress and the other a prostitute. Both Joe and Marilyn had rejected them. Marilyn knew that not only her career but her marriage as well was riding on her choice of parts. She was fed up with Fox’s proposals, and she wanted out. The actress viewed her new company with Greene as a solution. The attorney advised her that since Fox’s legal department was making overtures toward a new contract, the former one could be considered invalid. After all, a new contract was mandatory as she was the lowest paid superstar of her day. Because he was the highest paid baseball player in history, DiMaggio also provided Marilyn with inspiration and confidence to achieve top status in her own field. The studio’s top brass, of course, were not so pleased by his influence.
Although DiMaggio originally approved of Marilyn’s character in Seven-Year Itch, as he observed the shooting of the first scene, he instantly changed his mind. Tom Ewell and Marilyn had just left the theater after watching The Creature From the Black Lagoon and were strolling leisurely down Lexington Avenue on a hot summer night. In an effort to catch some relief from the heat Marilyn’s character lets the wind from the subway grating blow her white summer dress uncontrollably into the air, exposing her underwear. Joe had been dining with Walter Winchell at nearby Toots Shor’s and decided to join his wife at the shoot. As he and Winchell approached they witnessed the commotion caused by Marilyn’s enjoyment of the wind shooting through her underwear.
Hundreds of spectators had gathered, and from a distance Joe felt humiliated as he overheard the innuendos and catcalls from the crowd. The actress was in her element, displaying her wares to not just a closed set but to the world. Everything to which he objected she continued to flaunt. He had thought that she was changing but realized then that she wasn’t. In the morning when Marilyn returned to the hotel suite, she
found an irate, sullen husband. She attempted to apologize, but by this time he was unwilling to even try to communicate and left the hotel. Whitey Snyder arrived to apply her makeup and noticed black and blue finger marks on her arms. She was visibly distraught, her eyes were swollen shut, tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Sympathetic and concerned, Whitey felt compelled to explain that no man wanted to see his wife’s body displayed in a public arena. Whitey suggested she try to understand and consider Joe’s feelings and actions. Wilder was doing his job well, but the consequences were disastrous for Marilyn’s marriage.
DiMaggio refused apologies from his wife. The press played up the story in all the newspapers, and the studio publicity mill took it even further. Attributing her rebelliousness to DiMaggio’s encouragement, the studio reasoned that if Joe and Marilyn were apart, she would get back in line. The press releases continued to stir up more controversy between the couple. No sooner had the two kissed and made up after filming in New York was completed than they returned to Los Angeles only to be reminded of the incident all over again. Two weeks later, after an embarrassed Joe left for New York to cover a World Series game, Marilyn called her attorney, Jerry Giesler, crying for a divorce. Harry Brand, the publicity flack who originally got them together, had all he needed to drive the wedge deeper between them, reporting in a press release that they were clearly “incompatible.”
Brand and Giesler staged a home visit event, inviting hundreds of reporters and photographers to converge on Marilyn’s home. After ostensibly consoling her, the two studio henchmen left her to hold a press conference. Once again the studio successfully manipulated Marilyn into making a spectacle of her battered marriage. Instead of attempting to help the couple reconcile, Geisler filed a divorce action in Santa Monica on the grounds of mental cruelty. While Fred Karger’s mother, Mary, consoled Marilyn, DiMaggio was still in the house packing his belongings. Giesler sent his secretary Helen Kirkpatrick out to their home to get the papers signed. Marilyn was under such stress that she had developed another cold, along with a respiratory infection. Kirkpatrick managed to catch the actress in a weak moment and pushed her into signing, then went downstairs and encouraged Joe to sign as well.
Reno Barsochinni, who had been best man at their wedding, pulled up to the house and came out shortly with two suitcases and a set of golf clubs. Then a grief-stricken DiMaggio emerged, telling the press he was leaving for San Francisco and never coming back. Sobbing uncontrollably, Marilyn eventually departed with her attorney. Because of her sorrow, filming at the studio had to be postponed. Marilyn went home and was isolated for the next three weeks, ultimately appearing in Santa Monica Superior Court looking regrouped and as beautiful as ever. She told the judge she had been mistaken about her husband. Instead of being warm and affectionate, he was actually cold and indifferent.
Neither Joe nor Marilyn wanted a divorce, but it seemed inevitable. They had been duped by the studio system, allowing outside forces to dictate the events that drove them apart. Though Joe was aware of the studio’s power to manipulate, he and Marilyn reacted defensively to the whirlwind of unfolding events. They failed to realize they had been pitted against each other by the studio and that efforts toward communication, patience, and understanding could have preserved their love and marriage. Both lived to regret the outcome and remained close friends right up until her death.
9
The Valley Girl and the Big Apple
DiMaggio’s estranged wife shrouded her pain and returned to the studio, where she did some of her finest work for Billy Wilder in The Seven Year Itch. Wilder was adept at interplaying her sexual nuances with her natural comedic timing. George Axelrod’s screenplay was sophisticated, subtle, and tapped the actress’s innate talents. Marilyn pushed herself more than ever before and it showed. The daily rushes proved she could steal every scene. Wilder and coproducer Charles Feldman gloated over the results. The time taken up by Marilyn’s marital problems during the filming increased the cost by a mere $150,000, but the finished product improved enormously.
The still fresh memory of her poor performance in Show Business also drove the actress to push herself to new heights. Never had she received such scathing reviews as when Business was released. Her dance sequences were considered crude. Though even derogatory gossip usually helps a picture, the film bombed. Marilyn had vowed never again to endure that kind of devastating experience.
But now Marilyn was beaming on film as never before, and the studio was beaming confidently that Itch would be a hit. Ironically, after helping to destroy to her marriage, Twentieth became Marilyn’s haven; she felt at home and secure with the studio that wanted her the most. Zanuck even spoke to her at rushes, for the first time clearly displaying deference to her. Stability was what she needed more than ever since her separation, and Twentieth was opportunistically there to provide for her. Even screenwriter Nunnally Johnson showed respect for her talent, busily creating another vehicle for the actress in How to Be Very Very Popular.
Marilyn embedded herself in her work in Los Angeles rather than New York. She rented a duplex apartment on Harper off Sunset Boulevard, one of her favorite haunts. The freedom to stroll down the street as she had done before her marriage to Joe, soaking up the vibrations of the city, made the actress feel liberated and alive. With easy access to Sunset, she would chat with friends at Schwabs whenever lonely for companionship.
The employment contract with Twentieth was cemented as Zanuck went out of his way to show his appreciation. The day after filming was complete, Zanuck arranged a special soiree for his new darling. Instead of a traditional wrap party, the executive producer put on a chic dinner party at Romanoff’s. In attendance were producers Jack Warner, Sam Goldwyn, and Zanuck proudly displaying his trophy, as well as other A-list guests paying homage to Hollywood’s new queen, including Jimmy Stewart, Claudette Colbert, Doris Day, William Holden, and Humphrey Bogart. Even idol Clark Gable, the King, was there to dance the night away in the arms of the Queen, Marilyn Monroe. It was a dream come true for the “orphan” girl who had fantasies of Gable so many years earlier. She had indeed finally arrived.
Looking ravishing, she had chosen to wear a subtly suggestive, simple gown that did not reveal her bustline. Marilyn did not have to prove herself anymore, or so she thought. Everyone recognized her gifts.” Miss Monroe was in her glory when Gable, succumbing to her charisma, whispered into her ear he would like to someday costar with her. The dance floor was not without spies, and Zanuck could not have been more gratified.
The following day, in stark contrast to the night before, she was taken by Joe DiMaggio to the Cedars of Lebanon Hospital for another gynecological surgery. The press was told that Miss Monroe was having an operation to make it more possible for her to give birth. That sounded plausible to most, but the truth was that Marilyn and Joe had been expecting a baby.
DiMaggio was still angry with Marilyn for her “bad” choices and Marilyn was hurt by his inability to forgive. But he waited patiently with her after recovery from the D&C, and he spent the next few days wining and dining her.
The abortion left Marilyn open to make her deal with Milton Greene more solid than before. He harangued her about the passing opportunity to branch out while Twentieth was banking on her as its most valued possession. Greene doggedly pitched the benefits of their arrangement. Marilyn had taken the position that she feared for her livelihood. With another divorce under her belt, and no marital settlement with DiMaggio, her trepidation was clear. She had a binding contract with Twentieth for the next three and a half years assuring her she would not be released, especially after the success of The Seven-Year Itch. With her as its hottest property, the studio would fight harder now to keep her. Greene made his final plea with the promise that he would support her during the time she would break the contract. Promising more than he could actually deliver, he was desperately attempting to lure the actress once again away from the safe but restrictive clutches of the studio.
To p
rove to Marilyn that he could make good on his word to keep her in style, he dazzled her with a round of plush private parties where only the Hollywood elite congregated. Miss Monroe actually enjoyed the appearances, as Greene was not only a handsome escort, but was never jealous of all the attention she drew from male admirers. Marilyn was amused over rumors about an affair as she had not publicly dated anyone since her separation from Joe. Milton continued to remind Marilyn of the golden opportunity that their production company could avail her, often mentioning the failure of Show Business and the humiliation of that experience. Suddenly she would gain renewed resolve to bypass the studio pitfalls and embark on their future plans with Marilyn Monroe Productions. Marilyn was aware that if Itch had failed at the box office, her new friend Zanuck would undoubtedly have turned into her foe again, forcing her into more ridiculous roles. With Greene’s constant prodding and Joe’s still recent advice, she ensconced herself in New York City, where she could hone her acting skills and try to become that elusive serious actress.
She moved into a remodeled barn near Weston, Connecticut, with Greene, his pretty young wife, Amy, and their son Josh. The hideout was uncomfortable, but it served a purpose. She and Greene were still in the throes of negotiating the tenets of their corporation with attorney Frank Delaney. They remained at home without giving the studio notice. When contracts were signed, Delaney promised a press conference with Hollywood’s reigning sex queen. The “New Marilyn,” as he called her, would be revealed. Dressed in her now infamous decolletage, the star announced to an anxious press that Marilyn Monroe Productions was incorporated and that, as its president, she held controlling interest of fifty-one shares. Tired of only sexy roles, the actress insisted on expanding her choices.
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