The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  Marilyn later said that if she hadn’t known he was a baseball player, she would have picked him out as “either a steel magnate or a congressman.” He was quiet and thoughtful, not at all the boastful sports hero she had expected. He didn’t say much. Instead, he just stared into his glass of vodka, straight with lime. “You know, there’s a blue polka dot right there in the middle of your tie,” she mentioned, trying to make small talk. “Did you fix it so that it would be like that—right in the middle like that?” He shook his head and tried to avoid her steady gaze. She later recalled thinking that he was adeptly playing one of her best games—the one where she is enigmatic and elusive, and as a result inspires great curiosity from everyone in her midst. However, she did wonder how two could play such a game and quickly concluded that not much would ever be said between them.

  What most impressed Marilyn about Joe on this night was that despite his quiet, almost sullen demeanor, he somehow still managed to command the table. In fact, the whole room. Sitting there in his white silk shirt, pearl-gray silk tie, and black trousers, he seemed more like a movie star with the golden tan of a playboy than some jock from New York. He wasn’t good-looking: His face was all sharp angles, his teeth not only bucked but haphazardly arranged, his eyes too close together. He was lanky and spindly. He didn’t walk, he lumbered. It didn’t matter, though. He was still power personified; it seemed to emanate from him, that’s how much attention he generated just by his mere presence in a booth in the back of the restaurant. Marilyn was used to getting that kind of rapt attention from onlookers, but on this night she was just… another fan. Or, as she so perfectly put it, “Sitting next to Mr. DiMaggio was like sitting next to a peacock with its tail spread, that’s how noticeable you were.” There was no doubt in her mind that she was fascinated.

  After their meal, Marilyn apologized, said she was exhausted and needed to get to bed. “I have to be at the studio in the morning,” she explained. When Joe offered to walk her to her car, she didn’t turn him down. In fact, she hoped it might give her a little more time to learn more about him. A bevy of smiling faces saw the couple out of the restaurant, all fans of Joe’s—a few of Marilyn’s too, but hers seemed a lot less excited than his.

  Once in the parking lot, Joe asked her to drive him back to his hotel, the Knickerbocker. In her memoir, she recalls that she eagerly agreed because she didn’t want the evening to end just yet. She remembered that when they got back to the hotel, they agreed that it had been such a lovely evening, it was a shame to end it. So they tooled around Beverly Hills for three hours—and anyone who knows Beverly Hills knows that it’s not exactly a metropolis. Indeed, any two people driving about there for three hours are not looking at the sights but rather are preoccupied with each other.

  For the record, the two had actually met a couple years earlier. Back in 1950, when Marilyn was with Johnny Hyde, his nephew, a young William Morris agent named Norman Brokaw, booked her on an NBC program called Lights, Camera, Action, a thirty-minute variety show hosted by actor Walter Wolf King. Marilyn had a brief walk-on part in a sketch—it was just a way for Brokaw to get some televised footage in order to possibly secure future bookings for her. After the show, Norman and Marilyn walked down Vine Street from the affiliate KNBH studio—now KNBC in Los Angeles—to the famous Brown Derby restaurant. As they had dinner, the actor William Frawley (Fred Mertz from I Love Lucy) came over to the table. After Norman introduced him to Marilyn Monroe, Frawley said, “You know, I’m sitting over there with Joe D. He really wants to meet this young lady. But he’s very shy…” Norman said, “Sure. On our way out, we’ll come by and say hello.” After Frawley left, Marilyn turned to the agent and said, “So, who’s Joe D.?” He said, “That’s Joe DiMaggio, one of the greatest baseball players of all time.” It meant nothing to her. Then he said, “But I guarantee you that if I introduce you to him, he’s going to want your telephone number. Is that okay?” She said it was fine. As they were leaving the Derby, Norman took Marilyn to Joe’s table. “Joe, this is Marilyn Monroe,” he said, “a young lady we have a great feeling about for the future. I think she’s going to be a big star.” Joe looked at her warmly, but he was clearly bashful. Barely able to meet her gaze, he said, “Well, listen, you’re in the right hands with Norman. He’s a great agent.” They shook hands, said goodbye, and that was the extent of it.

  “Sure enough, the very next morning, one of my first calls was Joe DiMaggio wanting her telephone number,” Brokaw recalls. “I gave it to him. Then I called her up and said, ‘Marilyn, what’d I tell you. I just gave your telephone number to Joe D.’ ” It is not known whether Joe called her.

  After their dinner in 1952, something began to stir in Marilyn Monroe. She’d never really experienced it before, at least to hear her tell it. She most certainly hadn’t been in love with Jim Dougherty. Joe Schenck was kindly and influential, but that wasn’t love either. And as much as she wished she could have been in love with Johnny Hyde, the emotion simply never materialized for her. However, the sudden warmth for and pull toward this new fellow, Joe DiMaggio, felt different, unlike anything she’d ever experienced with any other man. Indeed, with this one, it would definitely be… different.

  The Nude Calendar Scandal

  Within weeks of meeting Joe DiMaggio, Marilyn Monroe faced a career crisis when the nude photos taken by Tom Kelley a couple of years earlier—when Marilyn signed off as “Mona Monroe”—finally surfaced. Actually, they first had come to light on the John Baumgarth 1951 calendar. However, the connection between the naked model and Marilyn Monroe hadn’t been made—she wasn’t that famous yet, and the photos went unnoticed. By 1952 she was much more of a celebrity, with a few more movies under her belt and much more publicity from the studio. The Baumgarth company decided to use Monroe’s photos again for the 1952 calendar—and this time they would not be missed by anyone. When word of the photos began to circulate, the executives at Fox knew they had a big problem on their hands. No actress had ever done anything quite like this before, at least not in anyone’s recent memory. “I was sure that it would put an end to my fame and that I would be dropped by the studio, press and public and never survive my ‘sin,’ ” Marilyn later recalled.

  She certainly had good reason to be concerned. The Hollywood studio system was incredibly puritanical, and had been since censorship regulations came into play in 1934. Film studios such as 20th Century-Fox had stringent moral clauses in their contracts that were designed to intimidate actors and actresses. They were forbidden to do anything immoral that might affect their image or that of the studio for which they worked, or they would be put under suspension. Not that this ever stopped most actors who were inclined to such behavior anyway. The moral clauses hadn’t informed certain decisions made by the likes of Elizabeth Taylor or Frank Sinatra or many other celebrities. They did what they wanted to and just accepted the suspension, considering it a vacation. But none of them had ever posed nude and then had the pictures distributed to a startled nation. Making it much worse for all concerned, this period in American history was particularly volatile due to Senator Joe McCarthy’s widespread fearmongering about Communism and its imminent infiltration of the United States due to the country’s loose sense of ethics and morality. In the midst of such caution came forth Marilyn Monroe, posing on a red velvet drape with her breasts—and nothing else, by the way—proudly exposed. By today’s standards, it’s difficult to imagine how these pictures could have caused such a sensation. They were just typical “cheesecake” fare—Marilyn striking an uncomfortable-looking pose with her arms extended over and behind her head, her perfect breasts perky and round, her back arched seductively, and her bent legs and hip discreetly covering her nether regions. However, in 1952, this kind of photography of a celebrity was definitely not the norm—and the reaction from Fox was quick panic. Marilyn was called into the studio and asked if, indeed, the photographs were of her. Yes, she admitted, they were. “But I really think Tom [Kelley] didn’t capture my best a
ngle,” she added. Marilyn’s surprisingly nonchalant comment to Fox’s brass about the photographs demonstrates her savvy as a public relations strategist and also her ingenuity under pressure.

  As it happened, Marilyn was already scheduled by the studio to be interviewed by Aline Mosby of United Press International. Should the interview now be canceled because of the release of the nude photos? No, Marilyn decided. Not only would she meet with Mosby, she also would use the encounter as a platform to explain herself. On the specified day, she dutifully sat for the interview and photo session. Afterward, she pulled the reporter aside. “I need to discuss something with you,” she whispered to Mosby. Then she let her have it—the whole Marilyn Monroe spiel. She’d been using it for many years, telling anyone who would listen how difficult her life had been and all she’d had to do to survive it. “A few years ago, when I had no money for food or rent,” Marilyn told Mosby, “a photographer I knew asked me to pose nude for an art calendar. His wife was there, they were both so nice, and I earned fifty dollars I needed very bad. That wasn’t a terrible thing to do, was it?” she asked, her eyes welling up with tears. She paused for dramatic affect. “I never thought anybody would recognize me,” she continued, her eyes wide with astonishment, “and now they say it will ruin my career. They want me to deny it’s me.” Then she added, “But I can’t lie. What shall I do?” Aline Mosby didn’t know what Marilyn should do, but she certainly knew what she was going to do—and it was to write a big feature called “Marilyn Monroe Admits She’s Nude Blonde of Calendar.” That story, which ended up being picked up by every wire service and circulated around the world, was one of Marilyn’s most masterful strokes, and it was basically honest (unlike some of her tales). The reaction was swift and immediate national forgiveness. Not only that, but the sensation of the pictures, her interview, and all of the attendant controversy made her an even bigger star. Eventually one of the photos would even end up on the cover of the first issue of Playboy, thereby launching that magazine into the stratosphere as well.

  Marilyn never apologized for the photos. “I want a man to come home after a hard day’s work, look at this picture, and feel inspired to say, ‘Wow!’ ” she said. Indeed, she accepted the photographs and any ensuing scandal, just as she’d had to accept all manner of turmoil in her young life—and truly this imbroglio paled in comparison to what she’d faced in the past. She then exploited the pictures in the same way she’d often exploited her history. Frank Sinatra said it best: “If ever a broad knew how to make lemonade from lemons, it was Marilyn Monroe.” In this case, she managed to make lemon meringue pie.

  From this point on, Marilyn Monroe’s image as a sex goddess was set in stone. For years to come, magazine covers—such as one for Life shortly after the nude pictures surfaced—and provocative photo layouts would underscore her steamy sexuality in a way that had never been seen from any other actress. She was never vulgar, either, which was part of her genius. Sometimes she came very close, but she knew just where the line of decency ran and never crossed it. Many others tried to imitate her—actresses like Jayne Mansfield and Kim Novak, for instance—but they couldn’t pull it off in quite the same way.

  Many people have come forth over the years claiming to have “discovered” Marilyn Monroe. Perhaps the man who really deserves the honor is the guy who gave her five bucks for a cab—and his business card—on a day she was so broke she couldn’t figure out a way to get to an audition: Tom Kelley, the photographer who truly exposed Marilyn to the world.

  Gladys: “I’d Like to Have My Child’s Love”

  Marilyn Monroe had just successfully coped with the surprising release of her nude photography when another scandal broke out around her. For years, she had told the world that she was an orphan, that her parents were both deceased. Where her father was concerned, this may as well have been the case because he played no role in her life. But her mother was a different matter.

  In May 1952—right before Marilyn turned twenty-six—part of the story of her mother leaked out and caused a painful public relations quagmire for her. A reporter named Erskine Johnson from the Hollywood Reporter learned that Gladys was indeed alive, and he found her. He assumed in his report that she had just been released from Agnews State Hospital, but by this time she’d been out for seven years. In a story he called “Marilyn Monroe Confesses Mother Alive, Living Here,” which ran in the Reporter on May 3, 1952, he reported that Gladys was working at a private nursing facility in Eagle Rock, California, called Homestead Lodge. The thrust of the story wasn’t so much that Gladys was alive as that Marilyn had lied about it. It caused no end of problems for Marilyn in the media. For instance, she had just done an interview with a reporter for Redbook about her sad childhood, being raised an orphan after both her parents died. It was too late for the magazine’s publisher to pull it from circulation. The story—“So Far to Go Alone”—not only made Marilyn look like a fabulist but also jeopardized the credibility of the publication and the writer of the feature, Jim Henaghan. Henaghan phoned Fox and complained to the publicity department, calling Marilyn a liar; he was very upset. Marilyn did what she did best—she handled the matter openly and honestly. She wrote a letter to Redbook for publication, stating, “I frankly did not feel wrong in withholding from you the fact that my mother is still alive… since we have never known each other intimately and have never enjoyed the normal relationship of mother and daughter.”

  Since becoming famous, Marilyn had still been in constant communication with her half sister, Berniece. When her nude calendar made headlines, her first impulse was to call Berniece and warn her about it. (Berniece’s husband, Paris, had already come home from work with a dozen publications featuring the photos.) The two sisters then discussed how at the time Marilyn posed for the pictures, one of her greatest fears had been that her Aunt Ana would one day see them. How would she have explained them to Ana? In her mind, that would have been much tougher than explaining them to America. Ana was gone now, so it was a moot point, but others in her life were still alive and could be affected by the scandal. Marilyn knew her Aunt Grace—now more devoted to Christian Science than she had been even when Ana was alive—might take issue with the photographs, but she also knew that Grace understood show business and public relations and would eventually reconcile all of it in her head. Gladys was another story. Marilyn and Berniece just hoped that Gladys wouldn’t see the pictures. It turned out that in 1952, Gladys had more important problems.

  Four years earlier, when Marilyn had learned from Johnny Hyde that her mother’s new husband was a bigamist, she had immediately called her Aunt Grace to tell her the startling news. Grace in turn told Gladys. “And who told you this?” Gladys wanted to know. “Norma Jeane,” said Grace. That was all Gladys needed to hear to become convinced that Marilyn was trying to ruin her marriage, “because that’s how much she hates me. She’ll do anything to ruin my life because she still believes I ruined hers.” There was no talking Gladys out of her point of view. She insisted that John did not have another wife and that it was all a lie that Marilyn had come up with, “like the rest of her stories.”

  Gladys had other problems with Eley, though. The man was a heavy drinker and emotionally abusive. In 1951, Gladys decided to file for divorce. However, before the paperwork could be completed, Eley became ill with heart disease. Gladys felt she had no choice but to stay at his side and utilize her belief in Christian Science to possibly heal him.

  In the winter of 1951, Gladys got the job at Homestead Lodge, referred to in the Hollywood Reporter story about her. Then, on April 23, 1952, John Eley died at the age of sixty-two. Gladys moved in with Grace Goddard. After a time, she decided to look up Ida Bolender, and proceeded to move in with her. “Mother could never turn anyone down,” said Ida Bolender’s foster daughter Nancy Jeffrey. However, once she was at Ida’s, Gladys said that she was sorry she had moved in with her. The two women just did not get along. Gladys wanted to leave the Bolender home, but apparently Grace didn�
��t want her moving back with her. On top of all of this, Marilyn hadn’t acknowledged John Eley’s death with a sympathy card. Even though Marilyn was sending Gladys a monthly allowance, Gladys was still unhappy about what she perceived as her daughter’s indifference, and she wrote her this stinging letter:

  Dear Marilyn,

  Please dear child, I’d like to receive a letter from you. Things are very annoying around here and I’d like to move away as soon as possible. I’d like to have my child’s love instead of hatred.

  Love,

  Mother

  Though Marilyn found the letter very upsetting, she would keep it as a memento. She also kept a framed photograph of Gladys on her nightstand.

  Gladys had been talking for some time about going to Florida to visit Berniece. There was some trepidation about this possibility from all quarters. Berniece wanted to know her mother and welcomed the notion of a visit, but Marilyn and Grace had strong reservations about it because they knew Gladys a lot better than Berniece and weren’t so certain it would be a good experience. Still, Berniece wrote to Gladys and said she was open to a visit from her and hoped she would come to Florida as soon as possible. Even though she had her doubts about the wisdom of such a visit, Marilyn decided that she would pay for all of Gladys’s traveling expenses. The matter was then left up in the air; no one knew what Gladys was going to do next.