STAR OF THE MONTH: Rita Hayworth

Margarita Cansino ~ Rita Hayworth

In encountering or examining the true life of a hero, one is confronted with mixed emotions, depending on the subject. At times, one crumples in laughter; at times, one jumps to the defensive. One is occasionally met with disappointment; one is sometimes filled with almost welcomed envy. After "The End," one wants to move mountains, right wrongs, or reverentially pay tribute. In reliving the life of Margarita Cansino, one wants to do nothing but weep. The problem with adoring Rita Hayworth, who is so easy to adore, is that there never was a Rita Hayworth. Never, in all cinematic history perhaps, has there been a performer who so resolutely was able to draw a thick, impenetrable line between her screen persona and herself. The duality of Rita/Margarita is something that continues to beckon fascination and curiosity. As thoroughly and intelligently analyzed by Adrienne L. McLean in her book Being Rita Hayworth, the construction of Rita Hayworth the movie star was something that was not hidden, but sensationalized and avidly participated in by all concerned-- except for Rita herself. Rita was a sex kitten and the girl-next-door. She was dangerous; she was harmless. She was dominant; she was passive. The one thing that she was consistently was malleable: she was whatever everyone wanted her to be. This is why she remains one of Hollywood's greatest movie stars and actresses of all time.

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Rita Hayworth's childhood was stolen from her in every conceivable way. A naturally shy girl, she was already at a disadvantage in jumping into the social whirlpool. Whatever chances she had of shedding her protective exterior were annihilated by her unfortunate, inherited circumstances. Her father, Eduardo Cansino, had achieved a measure of acclaim on the vaudeville dance circuit, where he and his sister Elisa-- both non-English speaking imports from their native Spain--  enchanted audiences with their exotic and graceful movements. After he and showgirl Volga Hayworth married, they quickly birthed their first child, Margarita Cansino, in Brooklyn, NY on October 17, 1918. Two sons would follow-- Eduardo, Jr. ("Sonny") and Vernon-- but neither showed the natural penchant toward the family trade like Margarita. Thus, after the original "Dancing Cansinos" went their separate ways, the silent and obedient eldest girl became Eduardo's newest dancing partner. As a sad and embittered Volga increasingly disappeared into alcoholism, Eduardo took on the role of the violent patriarch, coaching Margarita in grueling dance instructions and taking her on tour after her originally chubby, adolescent body started to form into that of a well-crafted athlete. She had no childhood friends, mostly because she received little formal education. She was pulled out of school to work. Neighborhood kids would pass her on their own way home from school and see her silently staring from her porch. If one was so bold to talk to the bashful statue, she would perhaps offer a few sparse words, before she was inevitably called indoors by her controlling father.

The distant Hayworth gaze: one can imagine that this is the same look

she held as a little girl on that front porch.

By now, the family was living in California. Eduardo had intentions toward a career renaissance in the new medium of film. If he worked Margarita hard enough, she could perhaps be his way in and his struggling family's salvation. She put up no argument against his tyrannical and abusive practice sessions, and more and more she became a mere dancing puppet-- seemingly hollow and lacking in identity. She did as she was told and hid her inner sadness behind a stoic, obedient face. The worst was to come in Tijuana, known as "Sin City," because it provided a pleasing outlet for those escaping prohibition. Eduardo claimed to be protective of Rita when they toured here, dancing their routines as "husband and wife"-- because it provided a better front-- but he had no qualms about parading her before the drunken, drooling men who looked at her gorgeous figure and face like starving men looking at a meal. While the thirteen-year-old danced nightly and exhaustively on stage-- usually forced to go out afterward and catch fish for dinner, because Eduardo had, of course, gambled all of their money away-- her brothers went to school and enjoyed comparatively normal childhoods under their caring but distant mother's watch. Volga was not there looking out for Margarita when Eduardo, at this point in the young innocent's life, started repeatedly raping her. As always, Margarita internalized, compartmentalized, and went on with the show. The thick, impenetrable veil she was building up would later become the most intriguing part of her characterizations. In later years, no one would know that the scintillating heat brimming beneath the beauty's cool surface was the burden of pain and shame.

When father and daughter returned, Volga was perhaps the only one who noticed a change in her daughter, and though she never stood up to her husband, she did begin sleeping in Margarita's room, joining the duo on tours, and leaving them alone together as little as possible. Unfortunately, the damage had been done. Despite Margarita's natural sweetness and passivity, inside she was a silent tiger pacing in its cage, waiting for the chance to get out. Ironically, Eduardo's solution of a cinematic career would allow her to escape through one trap door into another prison. But at this point, what choice did she have? A screen test, thanks to Fox production chief Winfield Sheehan, won her a contract with Fox, and soon she was dancing onscreen with Gary Leon in Dante's Inferno- choreographed by Eduardo, of course. Due to her dark features, she was typically cast in Latin roles or as other "exotic" types, such as her turn as Nayda in Charlie Chan in Egypt. Despite potential, she failed to break through to a place of real recognition. Enter the second manipulative man in her life-- Eddie Judson, who was a thirty-nine year old con-artist keen on turning the vulnerable sixteen-year-old into his meal ticket. After Fox dropped her, Eddie was able to land her a new seven-year contract at Columbia, headed by "White Fang" Harry Cohn. Columbia was the "hack lot," always borrowing other stars, because they had none of their own. Little did Cohn know when signing "Rita Cansino" that he had just grabbed a hold of his first, true movie star. Eddie Judson already knew, but he had to build her up before anyone else would see. 

Rita Cansino as she appeared in Dante's Inferno.

Thus began the transformation of Margarita Cansino to Rita Hayworth-- a much more American sounding name. Rita eloped with the man she hoped would be her release from Eduardo in May of 1937, but Eddie Judson proved to be as much of a taskmaster and, in effect, pimp as her father. He submitted her to ruthless diets and workout regimens, dyed her hair red, and forced her to endure months of painful electrolysis to heighten her hairline and create a widow's peak. Papa Eduardo thankfully no longer had a hold over his daughter, but this was sadly because she no longer existed. She belonged to another Ed, and he had total control. Judson initiated press releases about his young bride, keeping her in the public eye and pushing her into meetings with well-to-do executives and filmmakers out at the clubs where, dressed glamorously, the still shy woman ineffectually tried to hob-nob and schmooze. Due to her soft-spoken demeanor and lack of pretense, it was not an easy thing for her to do, and her nightly failures sent Eddie into rages. He even went so far as to tell her not to shy away from opportunities to use sex as a tool-- aka sleep her way to the top. Consider it a business investment. Just how much she listened to these suggestions remains debatable, but with such a soft backbone, one has to admit that in Rita's case, the worst is not only possible but likely. Slowly, Eddie's plans started to work. Rita started catching on in Only Angels Have Wings-- a big coup-- and gained a reputations as a hard-working, diligent actress who was equally welcoming of the press. She was labeled "The Most Co-operative Girl in Hollywood." Unfortunately, this did not make her the happiest. On set, she was silent. She would sit and wait for her scenes, perform, then retreat back inside herself. It was the only way she could hold herself together.

Rita performs with James Cagney and Olivia DeHavilland in

The Strawberry Blonde.

Success and notice grew in The Strawberry Blonde and Blood and Sand, during the latter of which she met close friend and choreographer Hermes Pan. The sensuous, confident, even malevolent women that she was able to craft onscreen were so vastly different from her true self that when people met her after seeing her films, they were shocked. She was a shy violet, a wallflower, and definitely not the man-eating glamour vixen Hollywood had painted her to be. She did possess enough fight to extricate herself from her sadistic husband, a decision that resulted after he tried to push her into a sexual relationship with Cohn. Rita refused. The results were one step forward and two back. While she gained her independence, Eddie walked off with nearly everything, and Cohn would develop an unsatisfied obsession with her that would lead to a complete invasion of her privacy and a possessive stranglehold over her life. Cohn even had wire-taps placed in her dressing room-- a fact that Rita's inner child enjoyed, for all she would talk about in this sacred area was how much she hated Cohn. Still, Cohn was right to want to hold onto Rita. Her popularity was growing every day. Her great talent as a dancer was put to use opposite Fred Astaire in both You'll Never Get Rich and You Were Never Lovelier, and a prime photo in Life Magazine became the pin-up item during wartime, rivalled only by Betty Grable's derriere extraordinaire shot. Though Rita fell into the arms of Victor Mature during My Gal Sal, a kind, down-to-earth guy who did much to support her during her divorce, she would soon fall into the maelstrom of another suitor, who had become enamored after seeing the infamous Bob Landry photo. Orson Welles was determined to make Rita Hayworth his (second) wife. As was his way, he got what he wanted.

Rebecca, Rita, and Orson.

Rita would forever recall Orson Welles as the love of her life. Dubbed "Beauty and the Brains"-- flattering to his ego, but bruising to hers-- the publicity surrounding the strange pairing was dynamite. Orson became the only man to whom Rita would confess her childhood abuse or the horror of her first marriage. But trust took time. Orson was intimidating. Embarrassed by her inferior education, Rita was put off by his interest at first, certain of what he was truly after, but  she later was surprised at his genuine interest and the way he could draw her out of herself. On their first date, he used an old mind-reading trick to actually get her talking. Suddenly, and surprisingly, she felt safe. But there was already danger. Was Rita really a full-blooded woman that Orson loved? Or was she a mere sexual experiment? Was he infatuated, fascinated, curious, or did he uncharacteristically hold deeper feelings? Rita adored Orson; the trouble was that Orson had the same problem. Orson Welles was in love with Orson Welles. If anyone ever came close to claiming his heart, it was indeed Rita, whom he remained protective over even after their marriage hit the skids. His affection remains evident as well in the fact that he was the only man Rita ever tried to win back after she had filed divorce papers. But she had her problems as well. Incredibly jealous and untrusting, Rita's insecurity acted as an isolator. She too had an inferiority complex that could only be quelled with sexual attention, a result of the abuse that she had suffered from her father. After having one child together, daughter Rebecca, Orson's philandering and Rita's mistrust finally got the better of them, and they called it quits. Of course, after seeing Rita's performance in the earth-shattering Gilda, Orson certainly must have had his regrets.

Gilda. There are no words, except "perfection."

Gilda remains the eternal Rita Hayworth film. A film noir, Rita is the perfect femme fatale, yet the life and humanity she gives her character makes her an imperfect villain who is still able to walk away with the hero's heart and the audience's approval. Richard Dyer pinpointed this phenomenon thus: "No other femme fatale dances." It was in her dancing that Rita truly came alive, and her "strip tease" sequence, the most famous moment of her career, is both a self-lacerating and a self-empowering act that proves yet again her amazing duality and complexity as a human being. This is no cardboard cut-out villainess. This is a she-wolf out for blood, but, most importantly, out for love. She would have future moments of genius, but no performance she would give would be so perfect. And there were to follow many brilliant moments, including an even more erotic and jaw-dropping strip tease in Salome. Rita's confidence and dominance presented itself always in her dancing: Cover Girl, Down to Earth, Tonight and Every Night, Affair in Trinidad, The Loves of Carmen, etc. These roles and her execution of them both maintain her status as a genuine talent and confuse the mind as to her unhappy personal life. 

One wonders how she was so able to completely draw the shade, to metamorphose from a child of deep sadness to a heroine of power, sensuality, and confidence. While watching her work, I have often caught myself thinking, "Rita, how are you doing this?!" On the screen she is vibrant, alive, and impassioned. In life, she was broken-hearted, used, misled, and constantly disappointed. Her flaws and sorrows would more ably be applied in her later, more mature roles. When Salome is asked to sell her body and dance for King Herod, Rita had a living well of reference to pull from. When Sgt. O'Hara  learns that Sadie Thompson is a prostitute who has given her body to countless men, he screams at her that she is "dirty!" The pain on her face is evident and echoes back into her very soul. And yet even more impressive is the profound joy and humor she injects into her more light-hearted roles. Rita is kind of a lovable ham! She is always beautiful and poised, but too she makes fun of herself. When she chews the scenery in numbers like "Poor John," she is clearly having a riot. The girl was extraordinary in this respect. While she never wanted stardom, she has the ability like few others to completely enthrall the camera and the viewer, and she had the talent to do it. Scene stealing from Gene Kelly is no easy feat, yet it is one she accomplishes simply by standing there and being Rita. 

The erotically charged and bare-footed dance that Valerie Bettis choreographed for Rita 

in Affair in Trinidad caused quite the scandal... and made more money than Gilda!

If only life had been as kind to her as the movies. Her true self continued to be clouded and her innermost desires ignored. A failed marriage to Persian Prince Aly Khan further proved to her the famous quotation-- always worded differently-- "Men go to bed with Gilda and wake up with me." She was never loved for herself. While Rita was adored, Margarita was unknown. Another con-artist, Dick Haymes, too swindled her into the marriage bed in order to escape his own legal problems, and this ended only in another physically abusive relationship and a subsequently shocking claim of child neglect. While battling out Dick's problems, Rita's children were left in the care of Dorothy Chambers in White Plains, NY. Living conditions were exaggerated by a Confidential press hound who took posed photos of the children playing with trash. Both Orson and Aly Khan (whose daughter with Rita, Princess Yasmin,  was too caught in the chaos) testified on her behalf. Rita finally extricated herself from Haymes and would endure only one more brief marriage to and divorce from producer James Hill before she succumbed to a darker master-- Alzheimer's. Despite all of her trials and tribulations, Rita had always been  a professional on the set. Then, suddenly, dialogue became difficult for her to remember, she became paranoid and frightened, and occasionally she would exhibit strange moments of confusion, memory loss, or erratic acts of anger. For many years, she remained undiagnosed, with no one understanding the source of her outbursts nor how to stop them. Her increased drinking only exacerbated the problem. It was as though, for far too long, Margarita Cansino had tried to be too many different people-- the dutiful daughter, the punching bag, the mother, the love goddess, the little girl lost, and the movie star, Rita Hayworth. Not once had she ever been who she truly wanted to be-- a simple wife and mother in a safe and secure home. The life she had had thrust upon her, the multiple demands made of her, and the countless characters she had played, had fractured her psyche to the breaking point. Maybe she finally wanted to escape, even to a place of not knowing herself. She had never really existed anyway. 

Orson Welles used The Lady from Shanghai as a way to diagnose and dissect his 

multi-faceted wife, a point made clear in the great mirror showdown.

Rita gave the world whatever it wanted. She divulged whatever side was necessary: the sex kitten, the hot-dog eating American gal, the exotic siren, the girl-next-door, etc. Her acting and natural gifts were always underrated due to her natural beauty and allegedly her lack of range. Because she came to set and did what she was told and nothing else, it has been recalled that she was merely another talking prop, a claim that many use when diagnosing Orson's nightmarish masterpiece The Lady from Shaghai. These critics do not take into account that the entire movie is supposed to read like a bad dream-- intricate, but unfeeling; authentic, yet hollow. Rita may have acted as a willing puppet to her husband Orson Welles (whom she was divorcing at the time), but if the effect of her performance is lost, the fault lies with him not her. He asked for a vacant villainess, and she delivered. If anyone can observe her dying character, bleeding out like a crocodile, crying with a savage and multi-layered howl-- "I don't want to die!"--  and not see some stroke of brilliance... well, God help you. This woman had no range? This woman was every range. From the ambitious, conflicted show-girl who breaks Gene Kelly's heart in Cover Girl, to the faded beauty and desperately grasping lost soul who comes calling for salvation in Separate Tables, Rita Hayworth was a force to be reckoned with. Had little Margarita Cansino had a chance, perhaps she could have ruled the world. Imagining the possibilities breaks the heart. Fortunately for us, it takes one mere viewing of Down to Earth to mend it again. But Rita Hayworth, Rita Cansino, Margarita Cansino, whoever, does not belong here with us mortals. A Goddess like that belongs in the Heavens with the rest of the stars.

MENTAL MONTAGE: Ladies in a Man's World

The ultimate female objectification: Jane Russell and her assets

advertised in a 3D movie.

The battle of the sexes reached a fever pitch with the advent of cinema. Exploring gender roles on the silver screen was one thing, but it was the behind-the-scenes shenanigans that would take on much greater precedence in the history of He vs. She. The business of movie making, in a way, opened up a Pandora's Box of sexism, for as young ingenues came out to a land offering dreams-come-true and limitless possibilities, the consummation of ambition and corruption gave birth instead to what has commonly become known as "the casting couch." Sadly, it is not a myth. Hollywood itself, particularly in the early pioneering days and the apex of the studio system, was a glorified and gorified representation of a patriarchal society gone haywire. With large, wealthy businessmen and moguls holding the reigns and beautiful women running amok, it didn't take long for the well known game of quid pro quo to begin. As studio magnates got more and more powerful, their manipulation of the system, bloated egos, and inflated sensibilities of entitlement, resulted in a cat and mouse game, wherein more than one girl became the reluctant prey. In the eternal battle, many Virgins were sacrificed to the great Gods of Fame, Fortune, and Celluloid, but Rebels too came out swinging with a vengeance. Here are their stories.

LB at his throne of power.

MGM: "the dream factory." On the screen, it churned out delicious masterpieces for the eyes and imagination. Off camera, however, this iconic studio was a complete nightmare. Louis B. Mayer knew the business, he knew money, and he likewise knew how to cash in on his audiences. Yet, despite the fact that his job was to provide mass entertainment for the human soul, he seemed to lack one of his own. One of movieland's greatest hypocrites, he scolded his stars for their indecent behavior, while personally committing countless acts of debauchery and malevolence. In addition to controlling every aspect of his stars' lives-- his livestock-- spying on them, tapping their phones, intercepting their private letters and wires, he too abused his power physically. Some women, such as the strong Luise Rainer, never played into his trap and maintained enough control over their lives so that he was never able to infect their private business. Rainer (left) always made Mayer uneasy. He couldn't "figure her out." Read: she wouldn't play into his hands like an eye-batting simp. She came to work, did her job, and did not mix business with his pleasure. Actresses like Rainer, who didn't care about the fame but were invested specifically in the work, easily avoided the noose, and irritated the hell out of LB. Ava Gardner too could be lumped into this category. Fresh out of North Carolina, Ava was naive about the ways of the world when she was signed at MGM, which-- coupled with her beauty-- made her a prime target. However, Ava wasn't "that type of girl," and when she was nearly sexually attacked by a certain employee, she ran to Howard Strickling, MGM's publicity man, to protect her. Strickling ordered the man with happy hands to keep his "paws off." While Ava would later become more sexually adventurous, she was also a woman in control of her own life; she was calling the shots and not the other way around. For this reason, she was never played as a sexual pawn.

This is not to say that all women who fell prey to the man in charge were soulless fame seekers or women weak in spirit. Most girls were simply too young to understand how to fight back, nor in the days before the feminist movement did they know that they should. One such ingenue was Judy Garland (right), who in later years would recount being "felt-up" by Mayer a number of times when she was a young woman just starting to blossom. Mayer would call her into his office and have her sing for him. After she wowed him with her god-given gift, he would then say to her, "You know why you have such power in your voice, Judy? Because you sing from the heart. From here." He would then place his hand on her heart aka her breast. As an adolescent, Judy was awkward in these moments, not knowing how to react. Her instincts of course could feel that she was being abused, that something wasn't right, but Mayer was the man in charge. What could she do? (She joked in later years that she was grateful that she didn't sing from another part of her anatomy.) This type of occurrence repeated itself over the years, until finally, one day after Judy had matured, Mayer tried the tactic again. This time, Judy looked him straight in his bespectacled eyes and said, "Mr. Mayer, don't you ever do that again!" Mayer, who was known for lapsing into dramatic hysterics, burst into tears. "How could you say such a thing to me, after all I've done for you?!" Judy, shocked, suddenly found herself comforting him. At least he never laid another hand on her.

Mickey Rooney, Judy, and the "affable" Papa Mayer.

For all of the turbulence in their relationship, Mayer always had a soft spot for Judy, mostly because she proved to be such a huge moneymaker. This would come in handy later. Judy once had an encounter with one of Mayer's right-hand men, Ben Thau. When the stuffy, abrupt Thau surprisingly laid a kiss on the adolescent Judy, she was shocked. He then told her in no uncertain terms that she was to go to bed with him. Judy politely refused the flowery proposal, and Thau became angry, telling her that if she didn't obey, he would "ruin her." Judy by now had enough clout at the studio to hold her ground. She stared him down and said, "Oh, you'll be gone before I will." Indeed, he was. After the story was relayed to Mayer, Thau was out.

Another man who was known to throw his slovenly, repugnant weight around MGM was producer Arthur Freed. Judy had a hefty business relationship with Freed, whose name is present on the majority of the MGM pictures she made. Freed was another chronic womanizer who used his power for personal gain. His most infamous relationship perhaps involves Judy's co-star Lucille Bremer, who starred as Judy's older sister in Meet Me in St. Louis. She secured the job only because she was Freed's "girl." Sadly, her career didn't last much longer after the film's release. Another story involves Freed's meeting with Shirley Temple, the pint-sized actress who was one of cinema's greatest moneymakers (left). When she transferred over to MGM from Fox, the eleven-year-old was invited into Freed's office, where the pompous windbag told her that he was going to "make her a star," which, coincidentally, she already was. He then presented his... member to her. (That's right, I said 11-years-old). The young child responded with childish, uncomfortable laughter, which set off Freed's hairtrigger temper. He screamed at her "Get out! Get out!!!!" Honestly, what response did he expect? Despite the fact that this story in particular is unsettling due to Shirley's age, it is comical in that a pre-teen girl was able to emasculate the notorious lecher. (Temple's mother was also forced to fend off the wolves, who often tried to proposition her when she was trying to get her daughter ahead in the business. It is also speculated that Judy Garland's mother, Ethel, freely offered herself up on behalf of her daughter's career.).

Mayer's #2, Eddie Mannix, is a perplexing person in film history. A bruiser with mob connections, his experience and knowledge of cinema was null, making his high post at MGM... questionable. Publicly, he was Vice-President. In truth, he was a glorified spy who kept stars in line by keeping himself very knowledgeable about their private business. Needless to say, Mayer loved him, and Mannix loved his job, using MGM as his personal, sexual piggy bank. His favorite girl for a time was Mary Nolan, a former Ziegfeld Girl nicknamed "Bubbles" (right). When Mannix fell for her, she was suddenly cast in films opposite the likes of Lon Chaney and John Gilbert. However, she paid the price for fame. Attempting to prove his great machismo, Mannix was mentally and physically abusive. Sometimes he would beat Mary so savagely that she required surgery. Many would note her black and blue appearance when coming to set. It was only a matter of time before she, in addition, became addicted to morphine. (Ironically, she would play an addict in West of Zanzibar). When Mannix tired of her and tried to break it off, Nolan fought back and sued him in a court of law. Of course, being a high man on the totem pole with his hands in government pockets, Mannix never suffered the consequences for his actions. Mary was libeled as a "drug-addict" and a "tramp" in the press and quickly intimidated out of town by Mannix's henchmen. She died alone of liver disease in 1948.


One of the most horrific stories about the distorted misogyny of Hollywood can be learned from the story of extra girl Patricia Douglas. MGM held yearly sales conventions, during which Mayer entertained his multiple investors by showing off the fruits of their monetary contributions. Concocting elaborate parties that invited these men onto the back lots of the studio, wild and ribald behavior was endorsed and the wine flowed like... wine. The beautiful women and hopeful ingenues were too paraded before the slobbering lot-- dancing, singing, and serving them liquor. Eternal gentleman John Gilbert was so disgusted at the display at one particular party-- and the way Mayer was offering up "those poor little girls" like prostitutes-- that he stormed out, much to Mayer's chagrin. It seemed like harmless fun from the outside, but the truth was that once the gates of MGM closed, over a hundred girls were trapped and outnumbered by drunken, pawing men who felt they deserved a little "reward" for their lucrative contributions to the studio. On June 1, 1931, 20-year-old, Patricia was one of these victims. Growing up in Hollywood, the lovely young girl was familiar with the business and some of its players and took the job for a little extra money. It wasn't as easy a job as she originally expected, and soon things became rowdy and out of control. Actress Ginger Wyatt was also present at this affair, and would recall things getting so out of hand that actor Wallace Beery had to punch a few guys out in order to get her to safety. Patricia was not so lucky.

She was eventually asked to dance by MGM employee Dave Ross. She found him unsettling and creepy, but she found him difficult to avoid. At one point, he and an unnamed friend held her nose and poured a mixture of scotch and champagne down her throat. On the verge of vomiting, she stumbled outside onto the dirty fields of the Hal Roach lot. Ross came up behind her, pushed her down, threatened her life, warned her not to scream, and raped her. After she was discovered, bloody and bruised, she was taken to MGM's own hospital. Patricia expected something to be done, but the silence was deafening. She approached District Attorney Buron Fitts, but he of course gave service to the highest bidder, so Patricia's case went nowhere. MGM had to protect its reputation, so the story of their party had to be squelched. Despite the fact that Patricia was a young innocent and a virgin, a fact many testified to, she was labeled as a "loose woman" with unsuitable morals who was out for money. Her case was dropped, MGM was kept out of the papers, and Patricia never got her retribution. Her sad story meant nothing to Hollywood's biggest money machine-- she was just another commodity to be used as the men in charge saw fit. In court, Buron Fitts solidified MGM's defense with the mere comment, "Who would want to sleep with that?" That sentence would echo through Patricia's ears for the rest of her life. (Learn more from the film Girl 27 by brilliant author and filmmaker David Stenn).

But MGM wasn't alone in its sexual shenanigans. Darryl F. Zanuck of Twentieth-Century Fox was also a notorious lecher. In fact, it was well known on the lot that business with Zanuck was closed from 4-4:30pm each day. Why? Because that was always the time that a pretty, young actress was escorted into his office, where he would personally "audition" her. It was a free for all, and women who didn't perform off screen were told in no uncertain terms that they wouldn't perform on screen. The way these girls were paraded around led to more than one woman gaining a reputation. Carole Landis and Linda Darnell both allegedly suffered the humiliation of social judgment after various encounters. It was just the way of the business. Who were these young actresses to question it? Upon most of their initial introductions to Hollywood, they were told that this was just how things were. Not every girl was equipped with the same fierce and gamely antagonistic spirit of a Bette Davis, and some were a little too naive to simply say "No." However, Zanuck would learn that he wouldn't always get his way. When the young Betty Grable (right) entered his office at 4pm one day and was unceremoniously offered his appendage, she simply said, "That's beautiful. You can put it away now," and walked out the door.

Harry Cohn of Columbia was no prize either. The sadistic relationships he had with his actresses, especially the resistant ones like Rita Hayworth, Kim Novak, and Jean Arthur-- who opposed his power plays-- were legendary. He was labeled as "White Fang," a mental and physical rapist who left in his wake a landscape of discarded and humiliated women. He was said to have auditioned new actresses by sticking a pencil in their mouths to examine their teeth, lifting their skirts to look at their legs, and moving them over to his infamous white couch where they would "perform" before being escorted out the back door. After Marilyn Monroe appeared in Ladies of the Chorus for Columbia (left), she was invited to a meeting by casting director Max Arnow. Nervous about a possible new role, Marilyn prepped herself, crossed her fingers, and went to the appointment. However, Arnow wasn't there. A smiling secretary sent her instead into the office with Cohn, who beamingly showed off a picture of his yacht. He then invited Marilyn to come along on his next trip to sea, to which Marilyn responded, "What about your wife?" Cohn became enraged telling her to "leave [his] wife outta this," but any time he tried to redirect conversation to a rendezvous, Marilyn avoided the bait. Despite what is often said about her, Marilyn was a shrewd tactician and she knew better than to become yet another one of Cohn's walking wounded. Thus, as she made her way to the exit, Cohn blurted out "This is your last chance!" She exited nonetheless. Her Columbia contract was cancelled the following Monday.

The stories out there are endless, most of them experienced by the nameless women whose sacrifices never got them the opportunities they were promised when in a compromising position. Often, in recollection, women still protect the names of the men that so abused them on their rise to the top. One such woman is the spitfire Veronica Lake (right), who was never prone to gossip. BS maybe, but gossip no. Ronni's encounters in the extreme and sometimes rotten world of Hollywood are entertaining and eye-opening to say the least. She would recount in her memoirs mysterious auditions for various "films," which turned out to be pornographies-- one sort of movie she was not apt to make. She recalled being somewhat fearful in these situations. The casting director would try to intimidate her into accepting the job, leaving her nothing to do but run. The most hilarious of her appointments with sexism is also the most indicative of her character. She was once called in to meet a certain producer, whom she left nameless. After talking about a future role for her, this man took out his member (seemed to be a running theme) and laid it on his desk. Instead of batting her eyes at the great wonder of nature before her, or cowering nervously and searching for the exit, Veronica did what only Veronica would do. She threw a book at it. A heavy one. That had to hurt, and good riddance!

Mae West: an actress who put women firmly in a position of

power and took over Hollywood on her own terms.

One would hope that the aforementioned practices are a thing of the past and that the rise of feminism had abolished the submission of women in the Hollywood workplace, but the sad truth is that this kind of thing still goes on all the time. In a fame-hungry world, the need for power and celebrity to validate one's own existence only heightens a prospective star's susceptibility to such a cruel injustice. The hungrier one's desire for fame, the easier it is for a person in the position to give it to feed his (or her) own appetite. Luckily, there have always been those ladies who knew that their greatest service to society and themselves could not be performed on their backs. From those who suffered and those who triumphed, we can learn much: the cost of fortune should never be one's soul. Unfortunately, this truth was not blatant enough for all of these young women to see. In the game of sex, life, or business, if a girl isn't in control of her own moves, she is the one being played. Women like Lake, Rainer, and Grable had enough gumption to turn the tables and not be the pawn. Check mate, fellas.