Lee Marvin: Point Blank

by Dwayne Epstein

  Many of her letters ended with a plea so desperate she disregarded her facade of moneyed and privileged position: “As to money, oh hell, we got along when we didn’t have it. At least we had family then. Dare I say it is a refuge here? The refuge you asked me to keep many years ago that will probably go on until I give out in a way. Florida is not the only place in the world. As to the boys thinking you are a failure ever, Monte, they would rather have a plain ordinary father than all the success in the world, and you know that. I, my dear, have learned, through you, the bitter price of success. I don’t want it for myself or for anyone I love. The price is just too, too high and I beg you to remember this. Somehow I feel if we could both be together now, both of us cry, we might be better people.”

  As for Lee, he encountered his own problems in Florida. “My father had him in public high school,” Robert recalled about his younger brother. “He did a lot of fighting. [Lee] said, ‘I’m a Yankee.’ You can imagine what those fucking redneck bastards thought. He came home one night, he had blood all over him. He said, ‘I told some guy I’d meet him in the alley.’ I said, ‘What happened?’ He said, ‘I left him lying in the alley.’” Lee himself acknowledged his difficulty in Florida’s Dade County public schools by once stating, “I had so many fists in my mouth that my folks pulled me out of there.”

  While Lee struggled in Florida, the relationship between his father and mother reached critical mass. Rather formally, Courtenay wrote to Monte, “Here on the afternoon of June 21, 1940, I write the letter of request that you once told me you would honor if put in writing. The request is for a divorce as promptly and painlessly as possible.”

  From that formal pronouncement, she then wrote for another several pages a litany of charges leveled against her husband. The most serious was, “I live in fear of you today, a fear that is built in chain fashion—first, because you stay out, and when you stay out you drink and when you drink you want to fight. I have grown afraid of those blows. Another bloody mouth, another black eye, and I can’t fool the office or your friends that you expose me to, shamelessly, cruelly. You cannot be naive enough to believe that they think I walked into a door.” Monte immediately returned to New York to talk Courtenay out of her request and upon his return to Florida began the long arduous task of extricating himself from the Florida Citrus Commission.

  It is doubtful that Lee was fully aware of his parents’ problems. If he had an inkling, he kept it to himself and followed his previous pattern. A Florida neighbor named Mrs. Walker recalled that… “{Lee} just appeared on the weekend or middle of the week and I never asked if he was supposed to be in school. He made our home his own though he never stayed overnight. He liked to help wipe the dishes while I washed. A companionable boy. He was exuberant.” He showed his exuberance in often amusing ways. When Mrs. Walker served dinner for several RAF cadets, she recalled Lee suddenly jumped up and ran into the kitchen, returning later with a plate of homemade fudge. “He bubbled over, yet he was never any trouble and he was always very considerate.”

  He was considerate to neighbors, but exacerbated his parents’ woes by knocking over trashcans, daydreaming in class, or fighting with neighborhood toughs. The young teenager knew his inability to walk the straight and narrow path of conformity would incur his father’s wrath, but by the time he was of age for high school, that wrath was forced to diminish. When a friend once asked Lee when did his father stop beating him, he responded, “When I was fourteen. By that time, I was big enough physically that he became afraid to.”

  As in New York, the public school system of Florida had had its fill of Lee Marvin, and Monte was no longer of a mind to dominate his son physically. Lee was informed by his father that he had just one more chance to straighten up. After public, progressive, Quaker, and military attempts at an education failed, the young upstart knew Catholic school would be the end of a long line with no further options left to him.

  The Catholic high school where Monte enrolled Lee had a well-deserved reputation for expecting and receiving excellence from its upper and middle-class student body. It was Lakeland Florida’s St. Leo’s School for Boys, with a faculty made up mostly of the Brothers of St. Benedictine. Despite the fact that Lee had been confirmed at St. Agnes Episcopal Trinity Parish of New York when he was twelve, having gone to Sunday school there, Monte was able to pull the proper strings to get Lee into St. Leo as a sophomore in September, 1940.

  It would be natural to assume that Lee resented his father for his strict adherence to school and discipline, but such was not the case. “Lee just thought his father hung out the sun,” recalled Monte’s secretary, Cecil Gober, “He used to like to get his father to reminisce about his World War I experiences and the time he spent in France.” His brother Robert saw it slightly different: “If you don’t see a father as often as a guy who’s home every night, you might tend to glorify him a little bit or compensate.”

  Lee’s resentment was reserved for his mother Courtenay, who was spending most of her time writing for Photoplay in Hollywood. Lee loathed the way his mother put on false airs for friends and neighbors, and as a result, he harbored a lifelong disdain for phoniness and hypocrisy. In 1966, another former neighbor was to recall how the teenaged Lee, tall and slim with a shock of dark hair, wore the resentment on his face: “He had very keen eyes and a cynical curl to his mouth. The same curl he has today.”

  Knowing he was out of second chances, Lee did make a concerted effort to succeed at St. Leo in spite of his undiagnosed dyslexia and ADD. His teacher, Fr. James Hoge, recalled, “He didn’t care much for the academic part of it but he was great with his fellow students. He didn’t fight with them or anything like that. He got along well.” A classmate remembered, “We called him ‘Dogface’ because of his hangdog puss. He looked like one of Disney’s pooches when you looked at him head on.” Fr. Weigand, known for his gentle disposition, recalled, “I bopped him one time for doing something or other, and I rather surprised myself.” As a six-foot, naturally athletic teenager, “Dogface” Marvin and St. Leo met their match in one another.

  A saving grace for both the school and its most infamous student was its impressive athletic program. He wrote his parents at the time, “This evening I was ‘told’ to go out for track. I think that I will try the 440 and the low hurdles. I am glad that I have to go out because for the past month I have been just lying around and getting lazy. Maybe I will be a man yet.” The maverick Marvin exhibited his prowess running the hurdles and throwing the javelin, as well as in competitive swimming. He set school records in most of the events he entered at St. Leo.

  In spite of his athleticism, he still managed to get into some mischief even while under the watchful eye of the faculty. His dormmate Paul DeGuenther recalled his… “making a little wine out of the citrus fruit that we’d go out and pick and then squeeze. Let it ferment. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was just something that had alcohol. It must have had some kick to it because we got a few [fellow students] a little tipsy. The guys after us had to report to the Abbot every week like a parole office because they got caught.”

  Being a healthy young man, Lee found time to explore another growing interest. Across nearby Lake Jovita and down the road from St. Leo was the Catholic girl’s school and convent, Holy Name Academy. The St. Leo boys were often the guests at Holy Name dances. DeGuenther recalled once when he, Lee, and several others walked in just as the girls were about to have a contest to see who of the boys had the biggest mouth. The girls asked each of them to smile real wide, and they measured their mouths from side to side. He related warmly, “Well, Lee won and I came in second. I was always second to Lee Marvin.” On occasion Lee, Paul, and several others ventured over to Holy Name uninvited. Sneaking down after hours to the lake’s dock to borrow a rowboat and paddling over to the school, the transgressors were nonetheless gladly received.

  Lee Marvin also experienced his first onstage triumph at St. Leo. The school production of “Brother Orchid”— based on the t
hen popular Edward G. Robinson comedy film of a gangster who hides out in a monastery—proved to be an indicator of things to come. The amateur St. Leo’s theater critic noted, “The auditorium was filled to capacity to see one of the greatest productions ever given at St. Leo… ‘Solomon,’ just one of the boys, slow thinking and willing to take a drink at the other man’s expense, was a riot of comedy as played by Lee Marvin.”

  In the summer of 1941, Lee stayed in Florida instead of returning to New York until his father could finally extricate himself from the Citrus Commission. It was a complicated process and it was written in the local paper that for Lamont Marvin it was either resign or get fired. Whatever the case, Monte was clearly glad to be rid of it. The normally reserved Monte wrote his wife, “This is the last you will ever see an address from me in Lakeland. By the way, they got into more difficulty over a slogan for this fair city, selecting the second one, ‘the roof garden of Florida,’ which has been used for many years by a little dump called Lake Placid. Here is the slogan to end all slogans—Lakeland, the asshole city of the asshole county of the asshole state of the nation.”

  Although the forty-four year-old business executive did not know what the future would hold, he managed to find work for the time-being promoting the vegetable industry in Washington, D.C.

  While Monte was trying to figure out his future, back in Florida his son wrote of a valuable lesson learned during a football game: “I and four other boys took on the whole Dade City High School in a fight in the bleachers. We were sitting in the Dade City stands and making more noise for our team then they were for their team. So some lad stood up and told me to shut up. Consequently, I told him if he thought he could to come over and try it. Then about ten of his friends stood up. So did we. I looked around to tell one of the boys something and when I looked back there were a 150 of them standing. We said if they were fixing to start something then come ahead. About that time they started after us and by gum we were waiting. Then somebody hollered for them to sit down and they did. That just goes to show you that there is no use in throwing a bluff.” In the same letter he made a revealing request: “Folks, there is one thing I would like to ask of you and that is that I may go to Oakwood next year. St. Leo is all right but it really is getting on my nerves. Now don’t go and get worried about me flunking this year because I won’t. But I really would like to go to Oakwood next year and play some football. It is a lot different than down here.”

  A few days later, on December 7th, 1941, Lee and a friend were leaving a movie theater. They had been making plans for a crosscountry hike for the following summer when the news from Pearl Harbor came over the car radio. With America plunging into war, the seventeen year-old now found it even harder to focus on school. His brother Robert was the first to sign up, and joined the Army Air Corps. His father made plans to rejoin the Army and hoped to get a commission. As for himself, Lee grappled with his options, but finally wrote his parents in May of 1942, “I think that I have finally come to a decision about the service. I believe that I will join the Marines about the middle of summer. I was talking to one in Jacksonville last week and he was telling me all about it, good and bad. He was 22 or 23 and from Conn. He also said that it still is the best place for someone that wants to fight and raise hell.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “I Have Had My Fill of War”

  LEE MARVIN’S DECISION to join the Marines coincided with America’s early setbacks in the war. In the eight months following Pearl Harbor, U.S. forces withstood staggering losses to the Japanese in The Philippines, The Aleutians, Indonesia, Singapore and Burma. This time of extreme patriotism had Lee’s brother enlisting in the Army and going through training in New York to eventually serve overseas in the Army Air Corps ground crew. Monte was working in D.C. and was also itching to get into the fight despite the fact that he was in his forties.

  The rebellious Lee Marvin was anxious to do his part through the auspices of the most rigorous branch of the service. What follows are excerpts of his letters home minus the usual salutations, the scuttlebutt, requests for spending money, and queries for family updates. What remains are his grammatically corrected firsthand accounts and revealing anecdotes of basic training, specialty training and warfare all within the confines of military censorship. The correspondence begins with “boot camp” on Parris Island, South Carolina and varies in tone depending on the recipient.

  8/16/42, Dear Mother and Father:

  Well we pulled in Thursday, noon. What a long trip. I certainly did not underestimate this one bit. We get up at 3:30 and hit the bed at 10:00. We work hard all day and I mean hard. There are 72 men in our platoon and I am the 1st squad leader. The platoon I am in has 72 men with 8 men to a squad. Though it’s tough as hell, I really like it a lot.

  The training is really tough and they work us all day. The one thing that they strive to do down here is to make you hate the Marines and, by gum, they do it.

  8/23/42: We received our rifles and gear yesterday. In the morning we went on maneuvers in the swamps and had a very good time. Honestly, nobody could explain how tight this camp is. About once every three days you get five minutes to yourself. All it is is drill, sweat, drill, sweat.

  They gave out the mail a few minutes ago and one guy got 15 letters from his girlfriend. Ain’t it hell? We went swimming today and we had all looked forward to it for a long time. When it finally came, we did not feel like it. Oh well.

  We also have to wash our clothes every night and everything you do you have to stand in line for. The food is very good, considering everything. One of the mess sergeants said it is all grade A, but then they cook it. A lot of the boys get heat prostration in the daytime because it is well over 100 degrees in the sun. Once in a while they give you 20 or 30 marches in a row and they get dizzy as hell and fall.

  It is very pretty right now. The sun is setting and a few of us are sitting in the sand by our barracks in our bathing suits and shoes writing letters to our folks. There is nothing like an 18-hour solid workday and a good 6 hours sleep.

  9/2/42: For the past three days we have been on the bayonet range and have learned the tricks of the trade. The range has all the plunges and lunges and it is a lot harder to do then you expect. Pop, you made a statement in your letter about training not being any tougher than I expected. Well, to be honest with you, the training was so hard on us that none of us could express it in writing. Pop, you were right, it was a bit tougher than expected.

  A few days ago I applied for the Quartermaster School. That is they got our whole company together and asked all the men who could do simple math and could type to fall out and I did. They told me that if I was not taken into any branch of the service for my former trade that I would probably go to the Quartermaster school and in three months I would be a Cpl. so I said O.K. Now all I have to do is to sit tight and wait.

  Having completed the normally thirteen-week Boot Camp in four weeks, Marvin was transferred to New River, North Carolina for his Marine Combat Training [MCT], which was also expedited for the war.

  9/15/42: We arrived here at New River. After a filthy 12-hour trip, we got here. What a difference. At Parris Island we were treated like dogs by all the privates that were out of boot camp. Here, even the Master Gunnery Sergeants stand chow line with us.

  We are camped in a tent area and they are cool as can be. I have my squad in the first tent and I have to take care of them and see that they don’t shirk their duties. This afternoon we start “snoping in” which is learning the different stances for shooting. This is the most important part of our training, as a poor shot won’t help win a battle.

  As you know, this place is big, 200 sq. miles. It is a haven compared to Parris Island.

  9/29/42: Well, here I am at the rifle range and I have had 3 days of firing. This is beyond a doubt the best part of the training. We fire 60 rounds in the morning every day and by noon my hip is about the size of a cow. The other day some man shot a foot behind the firing line and blew my
ears off with the concussion. I wish you could hear 150 men firing rapid fire. It is terrific. I must go to chow now, as it is 6:30.

  Today I shot 216, which is sharpshooter. It is a good improvement over yesterday. Today is record day and I did a little better but I should have made expert. I lacked just three points for the expert. On the Rapid Fire I did very bad but there is one thing I can say and that is that I shot the highest in my platoon of 72 men.

  10/7/42: It took me a long time to get that phone call through to you but it was worth it. In the whole town there are only three phones that can get long distance and every night there are 10,000 Marines trying to use them. It is a pretty good set up around here with liberty every other night and every other weekend.

  I am now in the Quartermaster School at Hadnot Point N.C. and it is a swell place with brick barracks and good chow. There is a big river just 100 yards from my barracks and I think I will do a little fishing soon.

  I passed all my entrance tests. Classes won’t start for about a week so all I do is 1 hour of police duty in the morning and for the rest of the day I loaf and fish. Really, there is very little I can tell you because there is nothing of interest and that which is, we are not allowed to tell.

  10/13/42: I have started class and it is very interesting, about how to buy and distribute the things that you have. It is just like school here but not so much cutting up as in the classes at St. Leo.