It is time once again, I fear, to get a little dark. By featuring William Haines this month, it is hard to be negative, because the guy is such a fun-loving prince. Yet, even he had to suffer his share of burdens and heartbreaks. Every light casts a shadow, and Tinsel Town didn't get its reputation for being a haven for lost and lonely souls for nothing. Thus, here are a few of the sad tales endured by some of Hollywood's brightest and too-soon-forgotten talents:
By 1936, Billy's cinematic career was hanging on by a thread. Having already made his exit from MGM after a final confrontation with LB over his sexuality, Billy was freelancing in "Poverty Row," while building an impressive reputation as an interior designer. Still, he was not completely ready to give up the ghost of his acting ambitions; he loved his place in the spotlight, and didn't want to surrender it to the new breed of man rising in the Hollywood ranks, such as Robert Montgomery, Clark Gable, and James Cagney. Taking some time off, he and a group of his friends, including partner Jimmie Shields and director George Cukor, headed for a respite in El Porto, a bit south of the glittering and oppressive nature of Hollywood. Little did they know that even a mere 20-odd miles from the more socially accepting Los Angeles, ideals and standard of public and private behavior were much more regimented. In the nearby Hermosa Beach, for example, the KKK was still very much alive and active.
A view of beach life in 1930s California-- Huntington Beach.
The inhabitants of El Porto were not inviting of Billy and his crew from the moment they arrived. This was not because the boys were noisy, intrusive, or disrespectful, but because they were a) Those hoity-toity Hollywood People and b) Gay. Certainly, the troupe of gentlemen could feel that they were swimming in unwelcome waters when they got such a chilly reception, but the nonchalant Billy probably convinced them to ignore it and not let the up-tight locals inhibit their fun getaway. Easier said than done. On the night of May 31, Billy et al were leaving a local restaurant and returning to their rented beach house when they were accosted by a gang of residents, both male and female. They were told, in no uncertain terms, to leave the city in the next hour "or else." Billy naturally laughed the threat off at first, but when one of the angry crowd threw a punch at Jimmie, Billy lunged at him, only to find himself beaten to the ground. Shaken, Billy-- now bearing two black eyes-- and his retinue quickly raced back to grab their belongings, jump in the car, and drive out of town, all while the locals shouted insults and slurs, pelting them and their vehicle with tomatoes. To his dying day, George Cukor would refuse to even speak about the incident. (The situation was later sensationalized when it was claimed that crosses were burned outside of the rented beach house, but this was not true-- yet another reason why you should take the biographical information of such sources as Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon I and II with a grain of salt... and probably a shot of Tequila).
Lila unsuccessfully tries to woo butler Thomas Meighan
(center) from the glamorous Gloria Swanson (left) in Male and Female.
However, there were still a great many unanswered questions. While many reported that Reid had been despondent, his mother refused to believe that he had taken his own life. Later, hostess Mrs. Victoria Morris claimed that a suicide note had been found, but that Lila had urged her to burn it. In addition, it was discovered that the body must have been sitting in its swing for twelve hours before it was reported. The fired shell was never found, which made investigating officers question whether the body had been moved from another location, and it was never corroborated that the "rusty gun" Reid held was the same one that killed him. The position of the body was also awkward, as Reid's arms were crossed. It was impossible for experts to recreate the phenomenon that could have resulted in such a post-shot posture. Still, no motive could be found, and the case was left unsolved. After the ensuing media frenzy, Lila-- like Billy-- became much more press shy and effectively retired from the biz. She would later return, doing modest work in the '40s and '50s, but her career never recaptured the steam of its untainted youth. It was never determined whether Reid was murdered or had committed suicide, but the story had a profound effect upon Lila's son, James Kirkwood Jr, (father was actor James Kirkwood Sr.), who would remember the event well and recreate it in his novel There Must Be a Pony. In fact, James was the one to find the body at the tender age of twelve. (Kirkwood would also famously co-author the award-winning A Chorus Line).
Karl performs opposite Lillian Gish in The Scarlet Letter.
It is popularly recalled that Karl bought a stake in a hotdog stand that used to operate outside MGM, his old studio, and when a friend from his past recognized him, the humiliation drove him to suicide. However, history proves that it wasn't that simple. After the hot-dog venture failed, Karl pursued more work as a carpenter or even an extra-- a far cry from his co-starring days-- but he couldn't seem to catch a break. Sinking deeper into depression, and alone after three failed marriages, on April 13, 1933 he was robbed of his last $18. The next day, April 14, he was discovered by his friend Frances Leake in his apartment with a self-inflicted bullet in his head. He left behind a simple note saying: "To Frances and all my friends-- goodbye." Many in the industry, who still considered Karl a friend, were shocked and saddened by the turn of events that had left him feeling so alone that death was the only option. Jean Hersholt stepped forward on his fallen friend's behalf and insisted that MGM pay for Karl's funeral. Suprisingly, they agreed. His talent and contribution to film remains forgotten under the stigma of being "the hot-dog guy," but at least in this Karl has been able to find a way to etch himself into our memory and serve as a warning for those who enter the biz with naivete.
Marie with Monte Blue in The Marriage Circle.
As the life seemed to slowly drain out of the girl who was once such a vivacious riot, friends became concerned, but no one had any idea as to the depths of her true despair. Once hailed by Ernst Lubitsch as "one of the few actresses in Hollywood who knew how to underplay comedy to achieve the maximum effect," Marie's hopes at performing deterioated with her health. On January 21, 1937, at only 38-years-old, Marie died of heart failure as induced by alcoholism and malnutrition. She was not found until 2 days later, when her dog's barking become so obnoxious that the bellboy of her Hollywood apartment was finally forced to enter her room. He found her in bed, lying face down. Certain "historians" have recorded that Marie was found half eaten by her dachshund, but this is false-- (cough, Kenneth Anger, cough). "Maxie" had simply bitten Marie in attempts to wake her up. The sad tale of the washed-up former beauty touched every one in the community, most of whom called her "friend." The likes of Barbara Stanwyck, Wallace Beery, and Joan Crawford attended her funeral, which the latter allegedly paid for herself. Marie's sad end resulted in one major triumph: the establishment of The Motion Picture and Television Country House and Hospital, which cares for the ill and elderly veterans of the industry. No other lost soul would thus be condemned to the same fate as she. Marie's final place of residence remains standing today at 6230 Afton Place with an identical building mirroring it on the opposite side of the street. A beautiful old structure covered with lush ivy, it is hard to imagine that such an old Hollywood jewel ever housed one of Hollywood's saddest discarded gems.
The famous sign as it once appeared.
When no other acting jobs followed, Peg's despair set in. Of course, this is all summary, and certainly there were more than career pressures weighing upon her, but whatever the source of her malcontent, Peg had reached the end of her tether. If she were unable to live a star, then she would die as one. It is assumed that sometime on September 16, 1932, Peg made her way up Beachwood Drive from her Uncle's home, where she had been staying, and made a slow and steady climb up Mount Lee to the "Hollywoodland" sign. Neatly folding her jacket, removing her shoes, and laying her purse at the base of the "H," she then used a workman's ladder to climb this letter. Reaching the top, she probably took a long, last look at the city that had once promised her such hope and left her only with heartache. She jumped, leaving behind her the sad note: "I am afraid, I am a coward. I am sorry for everything. If I had done this a long time ago, it would have saved a lot of pain. P.E." Today, the remaining "Hollywood" sign bears a dual significance because of her leap: the promise and the pain of a life in the movies. The bitterest part of this tale is the legend that Peg was to receive a film offer the day after her leap. If only she had waited... As such, she has become an idol and is often referenced as the "Patron Saint of struggling actors," who perhaps use her sad story to convince themselves to hold out a little bit longer and not let the insufferable blues make victims of them as well.
2428 Beachwood Dr, the house from whence
Peg would begin her infamous climb.
The scandals of Hollywood are its juiciest enticements. Many love to hear the trash-talk or the sensational rumors, which are usually more exciting than the fictional stories released in the theaters. However, these tales are always more appealing when one is the observer and not the subject, and resultingly the object of scorn, ridicule, or pity. While some stars occassionally find themselves humbled by the circumstances that bring them crashing to earth after flying too close to the sun, forgetting their own mortality-- their penetrability-- there are also those that are never able to rise back up from the ashes. Are there certain people who are naturally predisposed to depression? Would Peg or Irene or Karl have met a happier fate had they lived in these modern times when therapy and medication are the rule and not the exception, or does Hollywood truly breed a kind of sorrow that often cannot be cured? While the likes of William Haines and Lila Lee were able to crawl out from under the rubble of their own scandals, turn their backs on negativity, and start afresh, not all are so lucky. It can only be hoped that the fallen stars in this City of Angels have not forfeited their lives in vain-- the lessons they pass on are eagerly heard, but hopefully just as eagerly learned. It is, after all, pain-- the common denominator-- that unites as all in our fight for life. Sometimes it takes death for us to realize that our stars are human too.
