With committed consistency, Marilyn delved into analysis with Dr. Greenson, who convinced her she belonged in Los Angeles and not in New York. Except for the time she spent with the Rostens, most of Marilyn’s social life centered on Hollywood. Without a husband she needed to move beyond her “self-obsession.” Her psychiatrists manipulation reeked of self-aggrandizement. Treating the actress for top-dollar rates several times a week would ensure his financial security.
The Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office had been keeping track of the Kennedys since the Democratic convention in August 1960. Considered the best intelligence investigator in the D.A.’s office, Frank Hronek pursued the Kennedy connection with the mob. With two junior detectives he monitored the Kennedys’ West Coast activities, keeping a particularly watchful eye on the Lawford house. Jack generally turned to his brother, Bobby, on moral issues, since he himself seemed so devoid of any sense of ethics. Besides his own marriage and extramarital encounters, Bobby was always more careful, usually choosing to “cheat” when out of town on business. The word on Robert was he liked to drink and he liked different women but he was more “human” and not as indiscriminate as either his older brother or his father. The moralistic Catholic views of Rose Kennedy had worn off on him.
Hronek and his agents tailed Johnny Roselli’s activities in Los Angeles, observing Marilyn in restaurants with Roselli and other Mafia henchmen. A direct link to Marilyn’s mentor, Joseph Schenck, Roselli had been convicted of extortion with Schenck for delivering cash payoffs to the unions. As Sam Giancana’s contact man in Hollywood, Roselli had long ingratiated himself as a Hollywood insider, socializing with big players, both executives and stars.
With the mob and its Hollywood connection his first consideration, Hronek collected extensive files and documents enumerating specific activities. He found that Giancana and Roselli were passing large amounts of “hush money” to pay for legal entanglements that “stars” and studios wanted to hide. With his team carefully compiling such powerful evidence over an extended period of time, when questioned after Marilyn’s death, he freely admitted that he believed Marilyn had been murdered. Years after his death, some suspect that Hronek, too, was a victim of foul play.
17
Clash of the Titans
Dr. Greenson’s friendly persuasion to extricate the actress from isolation in New York continued. Instead of vainly searching for a man to provide her with stability, he advised her to create a stable home life for and by herself. The comfortable Spanish hacienda−style home where Greenson sometimes saw Marilyn conjured up warm feelings in the actress, who still missed her Connecticut farmhouse. Besides moving her home base to Los Angeles, he argued that fulfilling her Fox contract would be better facilitated by the easy access to scripts and film ideas. Reluctantly the actress agreed. Greenson added that he believed a new housekeeper would better understand her physical and mental ups and downs and that he knew just the right person for the job, Mrs. Eunice Murray. Dr. Greenson assured Marilyn that his chosen chauffeur/social director/interior decorator/nurse/companion would indeed help her locate the right home. Eunice Murray had sold the doctor his own Spanish haven and was a personal friend. She would also become his spy.
The quest for the perfect home began with a suitable companion and then continued with Pat Newcomb. Having lost a considerable amount of money during her marriage to Arthur Miller, Marilyn resisted buying a large, conspicuous home for herself. She wanted something understated, comfortable, and affordable.
Keeping the apartment in New York was another drain on her budget, but having an available escape was well worth the money it took to maintain the Brentwood home.
Anticipating negative publicity about the Kennedy administration by late 1961, with Papa Joe at the helm, the Kennedys worked up an ingenious counterattack to create a more positive image of the President. The use of television to promote this image proved to be most adept propaganda. With his quick wit, JFK instantly turned televised press conferences into entertainment. Guided by mentor Joe, the Oval Office searched for any bad press relating to Jack’s blunders and, via the Kennedy machine, led by such brilliant PR men as Pierre Salinger, effectively killed damaging stories. For instance, an article that was to appear in the New Republic condemning the President’s performance during the Bay of Pigs disaster was suddenly canceled. Jack would personally call reporters who had written favorable reviews to thank them. After Ben Bradlee, Newsweek’s White House correspondent and a Kennedy friend, made an innocuous statement about Kennedy’s abuse of power, he was temporarily banished from the inner circle.
Joe Kennedy gave explicit instructions to his sons regarding their handling of the mob. The “boys” should be kept in line and work for the White House, not the way Jimmy Hoffa and Sam Giancana wanted. And there was also government pressure on the young men to find effective ways to control the mob.
The FBI tapped telephone conversations indicating that Rosselli and Giancana were disappointed in Frank Sinatra’s failure in removing the heat from their operations. The constant surveillance and bombardment of legal obstacles that the administration had conjured up was making them angry. Sinatra’s desire to be appointed to an ambassadorship was laughed away as a joke, as the mobsters scorned his frivolous appetite for political power. Pierre Salinger and his men were fully aware of Sinatra’s weak standing; he was treated more like a gofer than a political ally.
Giancana next set the wheels in motion to use Sinatra financially instead of politically. He coerced the singer into signing a contract to perform, paying him in cash, as was customary in his business. Giancana would later construct a new nightclub called Villa Venice with a seating capacity of eight hundred people, just two blocks from his gambling casino, which was built in a converted Quonset hut. Later he would force not only the top-flight singer but his cronies, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr., to perform as well, a design that would bring in the high-rollers who would lose at the roulette wheels, dice, and blackjack tables. By October 1962, the Rat Pack was performing regularly and the money was rolling in. The tax-free enterprise would already have generated over $3 million. Within a short time, the FBI would catch up with the operation, closing it down and terminating the Rat Pack’s contracts at Villa Venice.
The Christmas season brought more disaster to the Kennedy clan. At seventy-three, Joseph Kennedy still maintained a firm hand both literally and figuratively over his sons, none of whom would dare rebel. The patriarch’s grand design was firmly in place, his eldest son the President of the United States, his second the attorney general, and his third waiting in the wings to occupy the President’s former senate seat.
Proud, egotistical, and smug over his lifetime accomplishments, the old man was looking forward to a continuing reign. He was relaxing with his immediate family at their Palm Beach estate on December 19. He had earlier taken Jack to the airport, and while playing golf that afternoon, he sat down unexpectedly on the grass at the sixth hole. Not feeling well, he asked his niece to take him home but not to call the doctor. While in bed, he suffered an intracranial thrombosis, a blood clot in an artery of the brain. His family rushed him unconscious by motorcade to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed the ambassador’s condition as inoperable. The priest read him the last rites of the Catholic church. And Jackie called her husband in Washington to report the incident. JFK was terrified at the prospect of losing his father.
The President arrived at the airport and was beseeched by a pool of reporters for comment but was mute on the subject of his father. Joseph Kennedy did not die then; his condition was stabilized; but after two days had elapsed he was not able to identify his family members. Jacqueline and Jack, along with Pierre Salinger, arrived at the hospital. As the President bent over his father, Joe recognized his son. His recovery continued to progress but would never be complete. However, the elder Kennedy developed the ability to read his financial portfolio, understand it, and mumble yes or no. His attempts to speak produced only barely intellig
ible gibberish. But he regained the use of his left hand and could scribble short notes. At the family dinners Joseph’s presence was still dominant, though JFK no longer tapped his front teeth or stroked his jaw in fear of his father as he once had. Now Jack spent tender hours with the old man, trying to understand his slurred speech. He would vigorously defend his communication with his father to others who could still not comprehend, asserting, “If my dad had only ten percent of his brain working, I’d still feel he had more sense than any one else I know.” Needing the old man more than ever, the President was sometimes confused without his father’s input. So he continued to encourage communication of his ideas and thoughts. The formerly dictatorial tone was absent from Joe’s advice, but what remained intact was the intelligence of his ideas and opinions. Still responsive, the patriarch retained control.
The President became fiercely protective of his father. While at Hyannisport on another weekend jaunt, Kennedy Senior fell victim to another seizure. Joe’s nurse saw the President “lose his cool” for the first time. After asking his own doctor to stay with his father while he called in some New York specialists, upon his return, Jack found his doctor missing. He angrily demanded that the doctor return and remain with Joe “every minute.” JFK returned nearly every weekend to do whatever he could to help his father’s recovery, including taking him on sailboat outings and giving him hours of attention.
Meanwhile Marilyn was spending Christmas in the company of Joe DiMaggio. She fully trusted him with her emotions and needs. To cheer her, Joe took Marilyn shopping to pick up a little tree and ornaments to enliven the austere furnishings in her Doheny apartment. The Greensons invited the former DiMaggios over for Christmas afternoon, and Joe was an instant hit with the psychiatrist’s family. New Year’s continued with warm holiday cheer as Joe and Marilyn entertained daughter Joan Greenson and her boyfriend with roasted chestnuts and champagne. They were like an old married couple who still loved each other, and Marilyn took pride in pleasing her man with small kindnesses. But once again, after the season’s festivities, Joe disappeared from the scene, leaving their Christmas spirit a dying memory.
To help Marilyn out of her doldrums, Dr. Greenson continued to encourage her to purchase a new home, one that might help her put down the roots she lacked. By the end of January, Marilyn and Mrs. Murray had found a modest replica of the Greensons’ home, south of Sunset on a quiet cul-de-sac in Brentwood. She was pleased with its close proximity to her analyst’s and to Peter Lawford’s beach home, the center of her social life with the Kennedys. Crying uncontrollably as she signed the trust deed, Marilyn was saddened that she was buying her first house alone. This long-awaited accomplishment would have been better shared.
On February 1 Marilyn was to meet with Robert Kennedy before he and his wife embarked on a worldwide tour. Bobby was clearly smitten by the actress and danced the night away with his brother’s lover. Quietly the two retreated to the den, where Marilyn engaged the attorney general in a serious political conversation. He was impressed by her political savvy. Marilyn later told American expatriate Frederick Vanderbilt Field that she and Bobby had discussed the seemingly omnipotent J. Edgar Hoover. Marilyn had suffered financially and publicly over Arthur Miller’s HUAC investigation. Although Hoover hated Miller, he adored Monroe; after the director’s death, a portrait of Marilyn’s nude calendar was found hanging on his wall at home.
After Bobby repeatedly asked her to present his book to the film studio, Marilyn offered to make a few calls. The opportunistic attorney general was looking for the right lead to cinch his deal. A party guest, Gloria Romanoff, recalled that Bobby had seemed so excited about spending time with Marilyn Monroe that he had dashed off to the nearest telephone like a schoolboy to tell his father.
Preproduction of the aptly timed and titled, Something’s Got to Give in February 1962, sealed the fate of Marilyn’s next film project. Reeling from major losses in 1959, 1960, and 1961, Fox was looking for a box-office bonanza and was putting pressure on the chief of production, Peter Levathes, to get the studio back on track. And who better to help than Marilyn Monroe, in a remake of an old Irene Dunne comedy, My Favorite Wife (1940), recently written by one of Marilyn’s favorite screenwriters, Nunnally Johnson. Their previous collaboration, How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) was one of her favorite films. Lauren Bacall, Betty Grable, and William Powell had also starred in CinemaScope’s first comedy. How to Marry a Millionaire was the story of three beautiful models in Manhattan who pool their meager resources to rent an expensive penthouse apartment to attract and trap millionaires. Marilyn’s love interest was played by David Wayne. Marilyn got along well with Bacall and even her former arch competitor! Her performance garnered a good deal of praise from critics. Otis L. Gurnsey, Jr., of the New York Herald Tribune, wrote, “Playing a nearsighted charmer who won’t wear her glasses when men are around, she bumps into furniture and reads books upside down with a limpid guile that nearly melts the screen.” As both producer and screenwriter, Johnson’s contribution had been instrumental yet transparent. Kate Cameron of the New York Daily News wrote, “Betty Grable, Lauren Bacall, and Marilyn Monroe give off the quips and cracks, generously supplied by Nunnally Johnson, with a naturalness that adds to their strikingly humorous effect, making the film the funniest comedy of the year.” Monroe’s confidence in Nunnally Johnson’s talent explains why she instantly committed to the project at the mere mention of his name. Without script approval, the actress had never even seen the final draft. By this point her most recent Svengali, Dr. Greenson, was shouldering his way into her career, suggesting a novice producer, twenty-nine-year-old Henry Weinstein, to head the Something’s Got to Give production. Marilyn agreed, believing that she would wield more power herself that way.
Set to begin filming in early April, Marilyn found her role uncomfortable. Disapproving of some of the sequences, she sent the script back, demanding a rewrite. Already past a sixth revision, Walter Bernstein would write the seventh. Bernstein view favored Nunnally Johnson’s original story based upon a wife, who after seven years of being presumed dead, returns to find her husband remarried. Having personally given up on marital fidelity, Marilyn balked at playing a woman chasing a man, let alone her former husband.
Beginning to feel more at home, the actress hired Eunice Murray’s son-in-law, Norman Jeffries II, as a handyman making repairs on her new house; he and was paid $180 per week. Wanting the house to look like Greenson’s, Marilyn, Murray, and Newcomb traveled to the Toluca market in Mexico City and then to the mountain resort of Taxco, purchasing mirrors, paintings, tile, and a few odd pieces of furniture.
At the end of her spree, she spoke at length with her friend Fred Field, who was born into the wealthy Vanderbilt family. Marilyn confided to him about Bobby Kennedy, her trust in Sinatra, and some assorted political beliefs including anti-McCarthyism and her dislike of Hoover. Drinking heavily, Marilyn also divulged her feelings regarding her strained marriage to Miller and her lost babies. Wishing to change Monroe’s mood, Pat Newcomb introduced her to Jose Bolaños, a Mexican screenwriter. The actress responded to the young man’s charms instantaneously in spite of Field’s trepidation. Bolaños subsequently followed Marilyn to Taco with a group of mariachi bands, serenading the actress in her hotel. Not impressed by his film credentials (he claimed to be a friend of director Louis Buñuel), Marilyn was fleetingly swayed by a romance with a man who had no immediate ties to anybody she knew, and she indulged herself a little. Photographs later revealed Marilyn obviously intoxicated but enjoying herself. Bolaños would follow her back to Los Angeles and later claim that they wanted to get married. But the truth was that her brief affair with the young man was just that, with never any intention of making the liaison permanent. Once he visited her home in west Los Angeles, but the “flame” had already died. Jose left disappointed, but he vainly made numerous efforts at rekindling the romance. The flattery of being so desired boosted her confidence, but the excessive drinking with Bolaños weaken
ed her fragile constitution.
Back in Los Angeles, with the major players for Something’s Got to Give in place, Marilyn gave her stamp of approval to George Cukor as director. His string of successes was impressive indeed. And she would be starring with two friends, Dean Martin and Wally Cox. Levathes had granted Marilyn carte blanche on this latest project. She was finally feeling her power and learning to actually enjoy it.
Ever aware of his increasing influence, Dr. Greenson deluded himself into believing that he was making much more progress with the actress than Dr. Kris ever had. Based on the certainty that increased self-esteem was what she most needed to combat her deep-rooted insecurities, his manipulation and interference violated all professional rules of conduct for a psychiatrist. At $50 an hour and $1500 monthly, Greenson was ensuring his future as well as the actress’s.
While slowly attempting to extricate the family from its involvement with the mafia, Joe repeatedly reminded JFK that the “mob should be working for you, not the other way around.”
The Kennedys now thought that their gradual disengagement from mob involvement would be more effective than a radical change in behavior. But Hoover was in charge. By February 27, 1962, the FBI director sent duplicate memos to Robert Kennedy and Kenny O’Donnell, a JFK devotee and appointments secretary, stating his concerns about Jack’s mistress Judith Campbell being an associate of John Roselli and Sam Giancana. Hoover’s well-placed wiretaps had picked up at least three phone calls to the White House. (Later on, White House logs would reveal that Campbell had telephoned the White House seventy times.) Still unaware of the Sinatra-Campbell connection, the attorney general grew alarmed and warned his brother. But Jack neither changed his attitude nor plans with his mistress Judy, or with Rosselli for that matter. JFK was a highly competitive, driven, and drugged man who did not comprehend that he was being set up.
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