BITS OF COINCIDENCE: Part VII

More close encounters of the celeb kind. Enjoy!

James Cagney's many talents would help pave his 

way to Hollywood.

In 1921, James Cagney and his girlfriend Willie Vernon were traveling around with different vaudeville troupes trying to save enough money to start a life together. There were highs and lows, but Jim was a determined guy devoted to doing whatever it took to earn money to keep himself and his family back home afloat. If that meant taking a job outside the entertainment business, he was fine with it. However, Willie always pushed him to pursue his stage talents, even if it cost them the extra dough. Every once and awhile, Jim would get a lucky leg up. One such opportunity was taking a gig with a trio that had just lost it's third member. Thus, the group Parker, Rand, and Cagney was born. Unfortunately, the comic trio did not fare well and reviews were poor. Apparently, the writing and gags were old hat and not very funny, which is perhaps why the original member had ducked out. Originally, the group had been called Parker, Rand, and Leach. James would later bump into Archibald Leach after both men had gone Hollywood and the latter had changed his name to Cary Grant. One wonders if they ever laughed over their shared stage mishap.

The young Archie Leach, after he had become the more 

polished Cary Grant.

Jim may have never gotten to Hollywood at all had it not been for the help of another famous fellow. It turns out that Al Jolson (left) owned the rights to the smash play, "Sinners' Holiday," in which both Jim and pal Joan Blondell had had success. Jolson was impressed with their performances. When he worked a deal with Warner Brothers to have the play produced into the film Penny Arcade, he urged Jack Warner to see the staged version himself and check out the new talents before he went about making casting decisions. Jack agreed and was impressed. He wound up giving both Jim and Joan contracts with Warners and they appeared in the same supporting roles in the film. Jack would both enjoy and regret his decision, since Jim would prove to be one of his biggest moneymakers, but also one of the largest thorns in his backside. Interestingly, Al Jolson would be indirectly responsible for getting Jim's good friend Pat O'Brien a movie contract with Warners as well, because Jack also happened to go and see Pat's latest play when he was in town at this time.

Joan and Jim break into the biz in Penny Arcade.

In the entertainment industry, it's all about who you know. Grace Kelly (right) was very fortunate that, in addition to her own strength and determination, she had an "in" in the theater world through her playwright uncle: George Kelly. After studying drama and appearing in her 31-second film debut in Fourteen Hours, Grace was ready to start treading the boards for real, and after a few roles in various plays, she was looking for a part to showcase her range. Luckily, a plum role fell right in her lap via producer Grant Gaither in New York. Gaither had worked with George Kelly in the past on his hit play "Craig's Wife," so when discussion began about casting a beautiful ingenue to play the role of a society girl who becomes a nightclub singer in Gaither's latest production "Alexander," Grace's name came up. She was quickly cast and went to work at the Albany Playhouse. Sadly, the play premiered to modest reviews and didn't run long. One bonus that came out of the play, aside from the experience, was the chance to spend time with a famous co-star: Leatrice Joy, the silent film siren. The two got along well, and Leatrice certainly saw in the young actress a bit of herself. In a way, she certainly felt that she was passing the torch to Grace, whose fame would later far surpass her own former but equally impressive glory.

Leatrice Joy defined what a star beauty was before 

Grace Kelly cornered the market.

Every good parent understands the importance of introducing art to their children. This is why, despite the unbalanced nature of Norma Jeane Mortenson's mentally ill mother Gladys, one can give her kudos for trying to bring music into her little girl's life. After losing her two older children when they were taken from her by her husband, Jasper Baker, Gladys projected a lot of animosity against her "illegitemate" daughter, whom she blamed for her wreck of a life. But, at times, Gladys had moments of clarity and displayed her love for the only person who truly loved her, and she worked diligently at several jobs to be able to afford a nice home for the two of them. Having lived in a topsy turvy world where she spent a lot of time with random relatives and babysitters, Norma Jeane was excited to finally be living with her mother, who continued to run hot and cold. In one of her warmer moments, Gladys bought a white baby grand piano for Norma Jeane and paid for her to receive lessons. The little girl was not a natural, but it gave her and her mother great pleasure to know that she was tickling the ivories of an instrument that had once belonged the movie star Fredric March. Eventually, Gladys went broke, lost the house and the piano, and Norma Jeane was farmed out once more. When she grew older, Marilyn Monroe hunted for the piano, which represented to her one of the happiest and most innocent periods of her life. In time, she found it (see left). Billy Wilder too privileged from Marilyn's limited knowledge of the instrument: the scene in The Seven Year Itch, in which Marilyn plays chopsticks, was the only one she completed in one take. Today, the piano belongs to Marilyn fan and songstress Mariah Carey, who has stipulated that upon her death it be placed in a museum.

Little did Fredric March know, his musical appreciation 
effected more people than himself.

The premiere of Cecil B. DeMille's infamous religious masterpiece The King of Kings was-- in keeping with all things Cecil-- stupendous. Debuting at the newly built Grauman's Chinese Theatre (as it would have appeared at the premiere, right), the pre-show was as jaw-dropping as the film itself. An intricate series of prologues were staged, depicting infamous scenes from the Bible. In total, 100 performers were cast to put the production together, and each scene depicted a different tableau from the scriptures, chronologically leading up to the tale of The King of Kings. All of the famous glitterati were there, including Mary Pickford, who pressed the button to open the curtains. So incredible was the production, that the actual film didn't begin until well after 11pm. One avid film-goer would remember the experience vividly, even after he later rose in the ranks of filmdom himself. Watching then as a young, 12-year-old boy, Gregory Peck, a pharmacist's son, was enraptured by the ornate splendor. He would recall the costumed, Mandarin ushers, the scent of the incense, and the plush carpeting leading to the screen. He could easily see why the fanfare cost $5,000,000 all said. Such an experience only inflamed the secret desire in him to be in the film business. His original plan to become a doctor would be brushed aside in the hope that one day he too would enjoy being a part of such a rich, heart-wrenching piece of artistry. Wonder if he ever thanked Cecil for the sign from God?

Gregory Peck would ditch the medical books for the stage.

Growing up in Jamestown, it was apparent to several local people that Lucille Ball (left) was destined to be an entertainer. It was especially clear to her mother, who encouraged Lucy to enroll at the prestigious Robert Minton-John Murray Anderson School of Drama. Of course, this was also probably done to keep the young girl out of trouble and keep her focused on her future-- after all, she was hanging around with thugs. It took a lot of hard work, and scrimping and saving for Lucy to afford a spot at the notable academy, which was also the only one of its kind. Previous generations hadn't been "taught" how to act; they had simply taught themselves when traveling the vaudeville circuits. Lucy's experience was limited, but it was her same natural, self-taught ability and her limited vaudeville experience that landed her a spot in the exclusive school. Earning her spot, she was on a high when classes began in Manhattan, but her confidence quickly dwindled. The competition was fierce, and Lucy came off as an unstudied, uncoordinated ham. The teachers' criticisms were harsh and very damaging to her self esteem. Her former assurance in her abilities disappeared, particularly because all the attention at the school was going to another talented ingenue, who had both students and faculty alike astounded by her passion and abilities. With all eyes on Bette Davis, Lucy had little chance of success. When cuts were made after the first term, all but 12 of the original 70 students were sent home. Bette made it; Lucy did not. While Bette would consider her courses there a mere stepping stone on her way to fame and notoriety, Lucy would consider the whole thing a serious hurdle between her and the prosperous life she finally found after decades of struggle. She would later state, "All I learned in drama school was how to be frightened." Luckily, she later taught us all how to laugh.

The eyes have it: even as a young woman, Bette's 

determination was obvious.

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part IV

Lucy does her usual scene-stealing for laughs 

on "I Love Lucy."

To get ahead in Hollywood, one really has to stand out. This was a lesson Lucille Ball learned early on. An observant girl with an uncanny knack for funny, Lucy would take note when she found something hilarious and would later use it in her own work. When a teenager, she would once have the awestruck honor of witnessing a funny tidbit via silent screen gem Dorothy Gish. While modeling at a Carnegie fashion show, Lucy happened to see both Dorothy (left) and sister Lillian with their two dates. When Lillian and the two gents walked away for a pace, Lucy watched while Dorothy calmly ripped her red program apart and stuck the little pieces to her face. When the trio returned, and Dorothy's pimpled face greeted them, they all burst out laughing. Lucy did too, and she would remember the moment. Later, when trying to land a spot as a chorine in the Eddie Cantor flick Roman Scandals, Lucy would steal Dorothy's gimmick. Applying the pieces of red crepe paper to her own face, she waited as Eddie went down the line of lovely girls, scanning their ripe figures and eying their legs. When he came to Lucy, he stopped in his tracks and started cracking up. He asked her name, and as he walked away, she could hear him say, "That Ball dame-- she's a riot!" Needless to say, she made an impression and got the gig.

"I Love Lucy" co-star William Frawley was also a natural comedian. If anyone on the show knew how to deliver a line, it was Frawley. In fact, he added a lot of gags and one-liners to punch up the already hilarious scripts. Because of this, he was constantly winning the "funny race" backstage. All of the names of the cast and crew were listed on a poster, and when they contributed something side-splitting to the show, they received a gold star next to their name. Frawley's name always outshined the others. However, he sometimes didn't "get" the jokes assigned to him. This is obviously not because he lacked a good sense of humor, but because he only ever memorized his own lines. So, during rehearsal, he would come up to Desi Arnaz and say, "You know, this line isn't very funny." Desi (with Bill on the show, right) continually had to explain, "Well sure, not by itself, but after the build-up it makes a great punchline." He would then describe the scenario, and suddenly the comic button that William's Fred Mertz added made sense. "Oh," he'd say. "Yeah. I guess that is funny." 

Back in the days before personal stylists and make-up artists, an actor was pretty much left up to his or her own devices to contrive the perfect look for a character. In addition to providing your own wardrobe, so too must you possess the ability to "put your face on," because no one else was gonna do it for you. This was information that aspiring young ingenue Leatrice Joy (left) knew all too well. The silent film actress was a novice when she started performing before the camera, but then, in 1918, so was everyone else. However, her jitters got the better of her before the camera started cranking on One Dollar Bid. Panicked about looking her best, in addition to adding cosmetics to her face, she decided to add a white paste to her arms to give them a smooth, porcelain look. When it came time for her to give her co-star and latest crush, John Gilbert, a tender embrace, her hug left white blotches all over his brand new jacket. Since John was also a struggling actor-- as evidenced by his thin-from-starvation frame-- the fact that one of his few personal suits of clothes was ruined was enough to send him into a tizzy. Poor Leatrice was humiliated, but after John sent her into tears, he apologized. When daughter Leatrice Gilbert Fountain later asked her mother what had made her make such a strange cosmetic choice, the elder Leatrice simply said that she thought it would look "pretty." The result was pretty awful.

Leatrice would later make another make-up foul-up when, after making peace, John started courting her. Both actors, while not famous by any means, had by now established some level of stability in the acting world, and Leatrice was flattered that the handsome, growing star was paying her such steadfast attention. Once again nervous, she went to a trusted source of feminine wiles for help: neighbor Theda Bara. The Queen of Sexual Potency (see right) had plenty of advice for the delicate young Leatrice and allegedly gave her a makeover that completely altered her appearance. One might have likened her to... a "harlot." Since John was a couth gentleman, Leatrice doubted that he would take to her new appearance and wiped most of its evidence away before he arrived to pick her up. However, she had neglected to remove the rouge from her earlobes, which Theda had assured her was all the rage-- certain to indicate to her suitor her secret, sensual passion. While dancing, John couldn't help but notice Leatrice's ears, which appeared to be inflamed and infected. When he asked her about them, she fessed up. All John could do was laugh. He helped her to remove the last of Theda's influence, and the two enjoyed the rest of the evening. Leatrice made a pretty good impression on her own. John would marry her in 1922. Despite their divorce two years later, and John's tumultuous romance with Greta Garbo, he would always attest that the sweet, naive Leatrice was the one who got away.  

Ernest Borgnine is not the typical leading man. Yet, after serving some time in the military, the perplexed young fella' was nudged into acting by his mother, who saw a talent that he had never realized. Slowly but surely, the character actor honed his craft and became a dependable and capable commodity to the stage. The next logical step was Hollywood, which was very far from Ernie's roots, but he was willing to give it a go. A fun-loving but old-fashioned guy, he would always recall one of his early screen tests with humor. Richard Siodmak saw some real potential in him, and asked him to come in to audition for The Whistle at Eaton Falls. "Audition" was a very strong word, for Ernie's performance was relegated to basically sitting in a chair and smiling. Awkward and still in a whirl about it all, he was confused when the director gave him his one simple direction: "Say 'Sh*t,' then smile." "What?!" Ernie replied. "Just do it. Trust me." So, Ernest lit up a big grin, looked directly into the camera and said with great joy, "Sh*t!" Cut. (See similar effect, left). Afterward, Richard took the screen test to producer Louis de Rochemont. When he saw Ernest's footage he asked, "What is he saying?" Richard lied: "I don't know, but he's got a great smile!" Louis must have agreed, for Ernest Borgnine was cast in the movie, which was his film debut.

Charlton Heston (right) also made a great impression on director Cecil B. DeMille. But not a great first impression. Cecil wasn't interested when he first saw the actor, considering him too "sinister," but then Cecil was an eccentric guy. After writing Chuck off as just another run-of-the-mill actor, one day, Heston happened to drive past him on the back lot and flash a wave. Suddenly, Cecil had a change of heart. Turning to his assistant, Gladys Rosson, he said, "I like the way he waved just now." Maybe there was something to this kid after all... He seemed to have the confidence and charisma that Cecil needed in a leading man. Chuck was soon put to the test when he was cast in The Greatest Show on Earth as Brad Braden. But, his first role with DeMille might have initially had Cecil rethinking his choice. For his first scene, Chuck had to drive up and jump out of a jeep. Instead, he drove up, hopped out, and fell flat on his face. One can almost imagine Cecil closing his eyes and shaking his head in annoyance. Luckily, Chuck was able to shake off the initial embarrassment and churn out a strong performance. Cecil too was impressed, and he would recast Heston in the pinnacle success of his career The Ten Commandments. It was because of this movie that Chuck's unique place in cinema was solidified. Thanks to that simple wave, Charlton Heston became a star. A little friendliness goes a long way.

Norma Talmadge was one of the divas of the silent film era (as seen left). Sadly, she is too often forgotten amongst her contemporaries, along with her sisters Constance and Natalie. In her hey-day, while married to none other than production chief Joseph Schenck, Norma ruled all. In a powerful position, she had her choice of roles and was able to rake in the dough. She could be seen around town looking very regal in her fine furs and elegant gowns. During the brief time that these untouchable celebs were seen as royalty, she more than played the part-- on and off screen. Yet, it was all a game, and while her more smart-ass sister Connie aka "Dutch" seemed to latch onto this, Norma sometimes seemed to be completely lost in the oblivion of her own narcissistic delusions. It was an "I think, therefore I am" kind of attitude. However, there were times when the aloof veneer would come down and the Brooklyn girl would come out with full force. If there was one man who loved to identify and skewer hypocrisy, it was Groucho Marx, which is why he loved having his pal George Jessel reminisce about the Grande Dame... who apparently had a bit of a drinking problem. To Groucho's amusement, George would recount how he and Norma had been chummy in the old days and had run in the same circles. While George would say that Norma was, indeed, a fine lady, he would stipulate that this was only until she had had her third drink. As he put it: "She was wonderful. Until the third drink, she had the manners of a princess. Courted, she was like a Queen. Third drink, she'd pee on the floor." Groucho loved that part. 

CAST-AWAYS: Part Two

Time for more battles of the casting couch! Next up, of course, is April's Actor: John Gilbert.

GILBERT VS. GABLE

There was an unconscious and lengthy war waging between these two silver screen giants. As one's career was burning out, the other's was just starting to catch fire! As a result of the great depression and changing social attitudes towards the male image, John Gilbert slowly found himself being usurped time and again of various roles and always seemingly by the new MGM macho, Clark Gable. At first, the studio didn't know what to do with the hulking, big-eared actor. But they knew that he was a star, for when they put him in front of the camera, audiences reacted with relish! Gable more accurately symbolized the prototypical modern man to 1930s audiences. He was gruff, a bit dangerous, and "liberal" with his morals.

As a result, when it came time to cast the scandalous films that were being slipped past the censors, Gable seemed to fit the bill more than the eloquent Gilbert, who was more recognized for romantic leads in period pieces. John was all man, no doubt about it, but his image was identified with a more distant past. He knew how to handle a sword and could win the day with heroic daring-do, but his success was the result of skill and wit, whereas Gable simply used brute force... and guns. When it came to the opposite sex, John would woo and win over a woman with his sensitivity and boyishness; Gable would simply manhandle. Thus, in 1931, when Gilbert was up for the role of the sinister and magnetic male lead opposite Norma Shearer in A Free Soul, he found himself unceremoniously intercepted by Gable (above, right). Audiences wouldn't have responded with as much ravenous lust had it been John who had thrust Norma down onto the couch. That is not how the "Great Lover" would treat a lady!

The same followed when Clark was cast in both Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise and Red Dust (above), both of which were originally slated to be Gilbert vehicles. What would it have been like to have John Gilbert in the center of a love triangle with Jean Harlow and Mary Astor? Of course, some of the reasoning behind Gilbert's shut-out most certainly had to do with Mayer's manipulation, but several factors went into the dissolution of John's career, including public sentiment and-- it seems-- fate. (Gable wasn't called "The King" for nothing). It is interesting to note that the gritty roles being offered to Gable were the very ones that the impassioned Gilbert had always craved, however they were normally denied him. Instead, the roles that would later be played by Errol Flynn seem more reminiscent of old John roles: a heroic figure who wins the ladies over without force, using only charm and a wink. I suppose the identity of John's onscreen persona can be found somewhere in between the images of both men.

Apparently, it was just Gable's time to shine, and shine he did in a lengthy and rich career, which has yet to be topped. While John was filming The Merry Widow back in his hey-day in 1925, he had no idea that one of the extras would take his place as the reigning sovereign of MGM. The ambitious and hungry Gable probably stood there in the crowd, studying the star and learning what it was to be a true lead. (Did Gilbert inspire his later mustache)??? He certainly took notes, for he was able to craft his own unique identity and win over the hearts of the American people. His career was also successful because he willingly worked with MGM to preserve his image, unlike the independently spirited Gilbert, and was close friends with both Eddie Mannix and Howard Strickling.

Though John was overshadowed in the aftermath of the sound film phenomenon, he was not forgotten, and in a way, he had the last laugh... At least among those who knew him best. When Gable went on to star in Gone with the Wind, a film whose success and majesty matched and outdid Gilbert's prior war epic The Big Parade, he was at the crest of his stardom-- untouchable. John Gilbert was sadly dead and gone. However, David O. Selznick himself would hold in his heart an image of what could have been... One day, when speaking to Leatrice Joy, John's ex-wife, he would say, “You and I know, Leatrice, we buried the man who should have played Rhett Butler.” Now it is hard to imagine anyone else in the luscious role of the South's most beloved lecher, but this comment speaks volumes on the power of a once proud individual and incomparable actor whom history has laid so low.

QUEEN GARBO

John Gilbert wasn't always the victim, however. He did manage a few victories at his career's end. The last major one came with the help of former lover, Greta Garbo, who was about to star in the historical epic Queen Christina. The role of her romancer was to be played by an English import, Laurence Olivier, (above) who had been winning renown for lighting up the British stage. However, Greta would have none of it. Greta was always an insecure and sensitive actress, and she had relied on John Gilbert's help tremendously during the beginning of her career. She wanted a co-star she could both trust and lean on in this pivotal role. Mostly, she wanted to do a service for the man who had so generously helped her when she was fresh off the boat from Sweden. Despite John's declining popularity, she used her clout to insist that he star opposite her. The reunion of on and off-screen lovers remains sensational to behold. Not only does John prove that he can speak just fine in the film, eradicating all rumors of a high-pitched voice, but the scenes between him and Greta evoke a nostalgia for a romantic time long past. Though the film did not fare so well in its day, performing only respectably at the box-office, now it is like watching two long lost lovers come home. Few things are more perfect.

As for poor Larry-boy, he was so insulted by the whole fiasco that he refused to work in America for several years. To be ousted is one thing, but to be ousted by the Great Greta Garbo?!?! Ouch. He would not make his big American debut until 6 years later in 1939's Wuthering Heights (below), where he finally fell in love with both film-making and film-acting and would spend the rest of his life enhancing the possibilities of both. He still held a grudge against Greta when they later met at a party, but it didn't take long for the beauty to make him forget the hard feelings. A jealous Vivien Leigh discovered the two walking arm in arm away from the rest of the crowd, looking very chummy indeed. Clearly, they had buried the hatchet.

 Woulda coulda shoulda or destiny devine? Whatever the possibilities were, this is how it all played out. Despite the upset feelings and particularly the heartbreak of dear John, I think the resulting films couldn't have turned out any better. They all remain classics, after all. That's saying something!!!

STAR OF THE MONTH: John Gilbert

Happy April Fool's Day! Don't worry, no pranks here. However, to commemorate the day, I have chosen to feature John Gilbert, a man who in the history of Hollywood most closely resembles fortune's fool.

John is not recalled for being a gifted actor, a handsome heartthrob, or a gallant gentleman. He is referred to in the history books as the symbol of the silent-talkie disaster. The story is thus: when films made the transition to sound, Gilbert's career was "ruined," because his voice recorded at too high a register. He stood in the crowd at a screening of His Glorious Night, listened as the audience laughed at him, and ran away in tears. His career was over... What a bunch of bull!!! In truth, there was nothing at all wrong with John's voice, which-- according to his own ex-wife Leatrice Joy-- sounded closer to Joseph Cotten's scotch-coated drawl than to a pipsqueak girly-man. This fact becomes obvious when one watches any of his sound films: Queen Christina, Redemption, The Hollywood Revue of 1929, etc, (the latter two of which were released BEFORE His Glorious Night). As for his running out of the movie theater in embarrassment, John was on his honeymoon in Europe with Ina Claire when the film premiered and wasn't even present to witness it!! Any laughter exhibited by viewers was a nervous reaction to the now spoken, romantic dialogue, which was received with awkwardness during every sound film at the time. Lovey-doveyness is always better on the page.

 In Flesh and the Devil with Greta Garbo--

the film on which they fell in love.

So, what's the big idea? Why is John remembered incorrectly as a wash-out? The answer: because Louis B. Mayer wanted it that way. Mayer and Gilbert never got along, for reasons I referred to in an earlier post, but I think the majority of the conflict lied in Mayer's own jealousy. John was handsome, talented, and could and did have pretty much any woman he wanted. Mayer was a short, fat, hard-boiled money-machine, who was only able to bed the beautiful women at his studio after he learned to leverage his position of power. In any case, Mayer set his sights on Jack's destruction and set about destroying his career. He placed him in mediocre films with poor production value until fans, who were used to seeing John in the sweeping epics of The Merry Widow and The Big Parade, had to look elsewhere for viable entertainment. Desert Nights wasn't cutting it! Then, to ruin his image, he planted the seed that Jack couldn't transfer to sound because of his voice. Releasing varying cuts of the His Glorious Night across the US, with unflattering editing and enhanced treble, rumors started circulating and soon fiction was accepted as fact. John's livelihood was pulled out from under him, and after duking it with out with Mayer until his MGM contract finally ended, John slowly disappeared from the limelight.

Waltzing in The Merry Widow with Mae Murray

Mayer's plot worked all too well, for John is still remembered incorrectly by these faulty historical reconstructions. If you hear a story told too many times, you eventually start to repeat it as fact. So it went when his tale was passed down the line. But John was no failure. He was a graceful and magnetic presence, a powerful and intense actor sincerely dedicated to his craft, and "The Great Lover" of cinematic history, onscreen and off. His films and his tumultuous relationship with Greta Garbo are legendary, and in his final days, it was Marlene Dietrich who was by his side. What else can you say about a man who was able to make the most complicated and elusive women in history salivate over him?!?! Please take the time to get to know this gifted and kindhearted individual, who martyred himself for us over and over again on that brilliant, silver screen. A charming rake and a gifted artist: ladies and gentlemen, John Gilbert!

Happy Easter!!!! :)