MENTAL MONTAGE: Epic Lovers' Brawls!

A young and sultry Lupe Velez: every man's fantasy. 

(Be careful what you wish for)!

Oh, love... Ain't it awful? More than a few celebrity couples would agree, considering the number of divorces and infidelities that are more the rule than the exception in a town of pretty (messed up) people. Maintaining a relationship in the fast-paced, ego-centric world of film and television isn't easy, and many lovers have let their affections for each other pay the forfeit. After the split, most of them put on a brave face for the cameras and say that they're "still friends," all while harboring still simmering jealousies and a plethora of pain. Some break-ups break our hearts even more than the wounded couples'. Yet there is a select club of bedfellows who are well recalled for their knock-down, drag-out fights. Their love affairs remain fascinating, not for the romance, but for the gossip-worthy, quite public feuds that they had with each other. Press releases about their brawls were often more hoped for than their next movies. Pristine social lives don't tend sell papers. As such, the following members of the "I Love You to Death" club continue to draw fascination and open mouthed shock, or laughter, at the heinous brutality of their not-so-eternal devotion.

It should have been clear to everyone when Lupe Velez started attending the fights at Hollywood Legion Stadium, during which she ravenously screamed "Keel him! Keel him!" that the lady had a taste for violence. For some, violence is a rare, cathartic release. For the pint-sized Lupe, it was a lifestyle. Take her notorious love affair with Gary Cooper. "Loop and Coop" (left) had a mutual fascination and passion for each other, which was great. What was not so great was their totally polar temperaments. Lupe was a high-strung, night owl who was constantly moving-- even when standing still she seemed to vibrate with energy-- while Coop was a more passive, quiet nights at home,  early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy. Their intense passion not withstanding, the relationship quickly went from butterflies to vampire bats. Coop was so smitten, he would generally just follow Lupe's lead-- against his will-- which meant he got very little sleep, lost about 50 pounds, and-- due to the expensive gifts he bought her-- nearly went broke. Jealousies also erupted, given that Lupe was a very sexually forward woman, and Coop was never short of willing lovers.

Add to this Lupe's confusion over his mother Alice's intrusion into their relationship, and her battle with what many believe was bi-polar disorder, and... you've got a problem. Out of nowhere, Coop would be sitting quietly or cooking dinner, and Lupe would come at him out of nowhere with a knife and slice him! Often, these outbursts came from her frustration with his uncommunicative nature and the fact that he would not stand up to her onslaughts. It was like trying to have an argument with a brick wall, albeit a pretty one. Coop would show up at the studio with scratches all over his face, bruises, bite marks, etc. One time, he even had to allegedly fight back-- not his style-- when Lupe flew (too far) off the handle. Their altercations became so public that when the studio saw the toll that Lupe was taking on Coop's health, they sent him abroad for five months. It was the official end of their relationship. Well, almost. When Coop tried to take off in the train for his trip, Lupe surprised him by firing a gun at his head! Luckily for us, she missed. Though they separated, the duo would never forget each other and are rumored to have carried on an intermittent affair through the rest of Lupe's life. In the end, they both laughed and bragged about their past quarrels and war wounds. Coop proved to be rather proud of his scars, in the end, and the fact that he had survived "The Mexican Spitfire." (The distance the duo should have kept from each other, right).

You would think this information would make any man steer clear of Lupe's volatile temper, but Lupe at her best and most charming was a woman difficult to refuse. Enter Johnny Weissmuller, the only man she ever married (left). An Olympic gold medalist, Johnny had conquered the world of film just as easily as aquatic sports when he became a movie star and the eternal "Tarzan." Yet, in his case, the story went: lucky at life, unlucky in love. He wed five times, but second wife Lupe became the most memorable notch on his belt. Things progressed in much the same fashion as they had with Coop, except that Johnny was able to give Lupe what she wanted: commitment. Unfortunately, marital bliss soon turned to marital discord almost immediately after their 1933 wedding. The passion that brought them together soon drove them apart. It all seemed hilarious in retrospect, and Johnny would laughingly recall the porcelain throwing tournaments that they had, each tossing plates, vases, etc, at each other in moments of heated dispute. After awhile, Johnny taught himself to always go for the inexpensive decor. However, the most hilarious bit of arguing occurred in London when the couple was staying at the famous Claridge's Hotel. Lupe was feeling ignored by Johnny, who had been publicized as being "out on the town" with other women. He professed that it was perfectly innocent. Apparently, Lupe didn't believe him. So, she did what any sane woman would do and hit him on the head with a shoe while he was sleeping. Commence craziness.

Lupe continued tossing random objects at Johnny as he tried to approach her and calm her down, then she ran from their room. Johnny followed, trying to retrieve his hysterical bride, which led to the two of them doing laps around their floor. Oh, did I mention that Johnny was pantless??? Seems he had a habit of sleeping in the buff. At one point, an elderly damsel opened her door and peeked to see the naked madness ensuing, yet she surprisingly cheered Johnny on: "Go a little faster, Johnny!" Indeed he did, and he eventually caught his wife. The heat of the chase turned immediately sexual, and the duo returned to their room to... make up. The next day, they were nearly thrown out of the hotel for their hijinks, but were saved at the command of no less than the Queen of Denmark, who just so happened to be their cheerleader from the night before! Divorce came by 1939 when the hostilities overcame the romance, but Johnny apparently held no grudges. Later, after the separation, he was at a party when a drunken, clearly disturbed girl started telling him how much she "hated him and his face." Johnny grinningly said: "You're lucky I'm not married to Lupe Velez now, or she'd kick the stuffing out of you." (A little calmer, right).

Another knock-about couple was Errol Flynn and his first wife, Lili Damita (left). The two met while Errol was en route to America for the first time and Lili was aboard the same ship. The attraction wasn't instant. Lili, who was five years Errol's senior, was a beautiful, strong-willed, and already successful movie star when the smitten Tasmanian set his sights on her. She ignored him at first, but Errol was, of course, Errol: a boyish rake with dashing good looks and the charisma to match. Needless to say, he won her over. At the beginning of their relationship, Lili acted as both lover and mother in a way, guiding the totally movie-biz ignorant Errol into the world of Hollywood and its machinery. It is rumored that she even was the reason that he got his first big break in Captain Blood when she suggested him to her ex-husband, director Michael Curtiz. All was not bliss, however. The couple's yelling matches were notorious, as was the flying furniture. It was all pretty much fore-play in the beginning, as their love-making was rumored to wake the dead! 

However, Errol was a free spirit who didn't want to be tied down, and Lili was possessive and jealous-- this despite the fact that both had numerous affairs during their union. Further evidence of her controlling behavior can be noted by the fact that she wept after seeing Errol's premiere in Captain Blood. He was phenomenal! He was going to be a big star! Instead of being supportive, Lili felt her relationship's death knell, which is both sad and a little bit catty. Instead of sticking by her rising star husband, she combatted her insecurity by picking vicious fights with him instead, in which Errol-- whose intense mistrust of women had already been well implanted by his abusive and neglectful mother-- agitatedly and angrily participated. Lili once broke a champagne bottle over his head, which gave him a concussion! Their physical and verbal fights, which were oozing with obscenities, became expected side shows at every party they attended. In time, their love turned to hate, and they divorced. Lili wasn't done however, and her monetary demands haunted Errol for the rest of his life (see right). Her last fatal blow was in gaining possession of his beloved home on Mulholland Drive, which she had never even lived in. Errol was forced to take refuge at sea with third wife Patrice Wymore. Love became a mystery that he would never solve, so it seemed appropriate that he spent a large portion of his later life literally adrift.

Next on the list is the only man Mr. Flynn ever met who could drink him under a table: this one's a double Bogie! The Mr. and Mrs, otherwise known as Humphrey and Mayo (Methot), were more popularly known as "The Batting Bogarts" (left). Mayo's own personal nickname would fittingly be "Sluggy." Sluggy and Bogie; Bogie and Sluggy. Sounds almost like a nursery rhyme. It wasn't. Not by a long shot. This duo couldn't even make it through their wedding without quarreling. In fact, Bogie stormed out of the reception without his bride and spent the night carousing with friends after their first of many husband-wife spats. Both members of this party had tempers, but Mayo's has become legendary. Bogie would definitely fight back, but he was often at the sore end of Mayo's woman-handling. As with the aforementioned coupled, the violence was a bit of a sexual turn-on, but sometimes it was just downright brutal. The pair's home was quickly dubbed "Sluggy Hollow," and it was Humphrey who took most of the beatings. Anything could happen. Mayo liked to toss any object within reach at her partner-- with great ferocity and velocity-- be it decor, dinnerware, or the food itself. She aimed for the head always, including the time she sat on Bogie's back and repeatedly slammed his face into the pavement. She wasn't above pushing him overboard when they went yachting or setting the house on fire either. She also had a gun, which made life a bit more complicated for the entire neighborhood, as her bullets were known to go blasting through the front door, which had to be constantly replaced. She also had a knack for knives apparently, for she once stabbed Bogie right in the back, which left him with several stitches.  

Initially, the male member of this duo found his wife's temper alluring and even sort of comical. But while he was proud of Mayo's venom, their friends and guests were often terrified of the couple's interactions. Gloria Stuart witnessed one horrific evening of flying bullets, and David Niven was present when a violent fight broke out in a restaurant. On this occasion, when a pushy drunkard accosted her man, Mayo let him have it! David and his wife dove under their table, and later Bogie appeared beside them and said, "Don't worry, Mayo's handling it." Their spats, wars, and maniacal wrestling matches became some of the most anticipated and feared shows in town. They seemed like a turbulent pair for the ages, yet soon enough they seemed to wear each other out. Bogie especially was growing weather worn and exhausted. He decided to keep friendlier company with the equally defiant, yet much more submissive, Lauren Bacall, creating a union as blissfully mythic as his previous one had been toxic. "Bogie and Bacall" reigned in Hollywood until his death in 1957. Mayo had oppositely spent all she had on Humphrey, her third and final spouse. She outlived their divorce by a little over five years, dying as a result of her alcoholism-- a passion she and her former husband had once so enthusiastically shared. (They substitute tea for liquor, right).

However, not all Hollywood abuse involves battered husbands. The case of Bette Davis and Gary Merrill was just as notorious for his battery of her-- and much less comical beings that the slaps and threats were administered by a man much stronger than his feisty but smaller wife. The two were wed not long after their astounding chemistry brought them together in All About Eve. A clear social ladder climber, Gary had actually tried to hit on the younger, unresponsive Anne Baxter first, but was a bit honored when Bette honed in on him. After their wedding, they spent a lot of time on their property in Maine, appropriately named "Witch Way," which was probably meant to be a play on words but earned much more evil connotations as rumors began to spread through the town that all was not well with the new, famous neighbors. Gary had a fierce temper and a total lack of control when he lost it. He also had an absence of decorum, often walking around the house in the nude in front of the servants. It was hard for the family-- which included Bette's daughter B.D. and the couple's adopted children Michael and Margot (left)-- to keep anyone employed, so quickly did the hired staff run screaming for the hills. It didn't take long for Gary to start taking his anger out on Bette, who was constantly suffering from his brutal hits. 

Yet, being the brazen woman that she was, Bette often instigated these attacks, pushing Gary's buttons to purposely get a reaction and draw forth his rage. As B.D. herself said: "She liked being brutalized. It was the only way she could understand a male-female relationship." A strong woman who for so long had elbowed her way around every man, woman, and child that came across her path, it was almost as if Bette were seeking some sort of punishment. Or, perhaps having a man dominate her at last was a sexual fantasy realized. This 'fantasy' was ugly. B.D. often put herself in the middle of the fights to protect her mother, which only enraged Gary more. Soon, he started hitting B.D. as well, perhaps due to his own sexual frustration and attraction to her. He even attacked one of her young friends when she visited the house! Slumber parties were never a good idea. It wasn't unusual for him to kick down his step-daughter's door and threaten her out of the blue. Adding more fuel to the fire was Margot, who was unfortunately born brain-damaged, was violent herself, and equally difficult to handle. As if in competition with Bette's relationship with B.D, Gary favored Margot and refused to send her away to a school where she would be better attended. Son Michael was all but ignored. Bette eventually paid her servants for silence. She would leave Gary and return to him ad nauseum until, finally, she left him for good and sought refuge at a friend's house. Though Gary howled at the windows for her, the damage was done. Ding-dong, the "Witch" couple was dead. Gary began dating the equally emotionally frail and sexually confused Rita Hayworth and did not even appear at the divorce proceedings. After four failed unions, Bette understandably never married again. (The couple right in All About Eve).

'Tis a thin line between love and hate, as they say. Were the blood-thirsty passions these couples felt for each other directly proportionate to their love? Or were they all disturbing and confused messes from the beginning: accidents just waiting to happen? Addiction and attraction are very different things, as are obsession and adoration. Just as certain chemicals, when brought together, can be combustible, these spouses caused explosions wherever they went. Perhaps it's possible to love too much. Perhaps psych evaluations should be a prerequisite to matrimony...

STAR OF THE MONTH: Lupe Velez

Lupe Velez

"Fame" and "infamy" are practically the same thing in Hollywood. As such, "notoriety" has a very different meaning when viewed in a Tinsel Town context. Thousands upon thousands of hopefuls migrate to Hollywood every year in the hopes of becoming a movie star, in the hopes of obtaining celebrity status, or in the hopes of attaining eternal glory. Yet, to live forever, you have to die, and in most cases you have to die either tragically young or just plain horribly. It has often been argued whether or not names like Dean, Phoenix, or Monroe would contain the same power and mystique they do today if the bearers would have lived to healthy, ripe old ages. I'd like to think so. After all, the Brandos, Stewarts, and Crawfords certainly did. Yet, the golden era stars have a more powerful hold over pop culture than their silent forbears. So few people are familiar with the early pioneers, minus the obvious gems: Chaplin, Garbo, Gish... That is, unless their names are touched with debaucherous rumor. As such, one wonders, would we still recall Fatty Arbuckle if it weren't for that tragic and unfortunate scandal? Would Mary Miles Minter mean anything to anyone if not for her implication in the death of William Desmond Taylor? And, the biggest question for this month: would anyone remember Lupe Velez if she hadn't taken her own young life far too soon? Do you even know of whom I'm speaking, brave new world? If not, let me tell you: Lupe was AWESOME. That is capitalized. All caps. On purpose. Yes, Lupe is another Hollywood tragedy. Yes, she is another butterfly crushed on the wheel of fate. Yes, her death took her fame and made her infamous. But her life makes her splendid and fascinating still. Behold the brazen vixen:

Lupe Velez: the Mexican Spitfire. Indeed. Lupe's nicknames would always play off her exuberant personality and its tendency toward natural disaster: The Tropical Hurricane, The Mexican Hurricane, The Mexican Wildcat, The Mexican Madcap, Whoopee Lupe, and The Hot Tamale! Still, she started simply enough, albeit with more spunk than most. Maria de Guadalupe Villalobos-Velez aka "Lupe" was born on July 18th, 1908 in San Luis Potosi. She certainly had a greater amount of pep than her siblings, and this she apparently inherited from her equally vibrant and troublesome father. Both were frenetic bundles of energy who enjoyed practical jokes and raising occasional Hell, but fortunately Lupe inherited the loving maternal instinct that her father lacked. He would eventually disappear in the midst of war, remarry, and also turn his back on his daughter after she revealed her thespian inclinations. This is why, in her career, she is billed by her mother's last name and not her father's. In fact, in many ways Lupe would become the father and breadwinner of her family. After causing a ruckus in convent school, wherein she enjoyed taunting the nuns with her projected tongue while their backs were turned, Lupe would be the only member of her family to put up her dukes when times got tough. While the Mexican Revolution continued and her soldier father consequently went missing (and presumed dead!), the family's original fortune dwindled, and Lupe devised a plan. She would put her love of mugging, singing, dancing, and her stellar impersonations to use and earn money on the stage! All the better for her. She dreamed of being an actress and loved soaking in the films at the local theater where she learned to bat her eyes seductively or alternately march into the fray, sword in hand. As a result, she got a lot of acting practice as a little girl giving performances on her rooftop.

The ingenue gives good face... and bod. Her "exotic" beauty

was always played up in her career.

Any talk of marriage-- and she had many suitors with her gorgeous features and natural charisma-- was overruled and put out of mind as she began her career. As she herself said, "When anyone have say to Lupe 'You cannot do!' it is like when they wave a red flag before the eyes of a bull to get the bull started!'" This is how she forced her way into a solo performance when the manager of the local theater tried to offer her a chorus girl's spot. Her reception was wild, perhaps because she took the stage with no stockings. She sang, she strummed the ukulele, but mostly she moved-- and fast! Her shimmying about got the men in the audience in an uproar, and she became an overnight sensation. Soon enough, she was being lauded as one of the favorite entertainers in Mexico! She was learning the ropes of performance fast. She was also learning how to handle catty females, who seemed to sabotage her at every turn-- jealous of her beauty and threatened by her popularity. She was once so angered by the constant badgering she suffered that she punched her fist through a window and performed onstage with a bloody hand! Lupe got back at the "mean girls" my impersonating them onstage and making a mockery of their affectations and exaggerated talents. This only endeared the public to her more. Along with her great beauty, Lupe had a raging sense of humor. Her lack of pretense and utter sincerity allowed her to form a bond with her audience, which tore the fourth wall away. Her attitude, which continued later in her career, was always, "I may be up here on stage, but you know I am really down there with you." She did not inherit any vanity after her success and went through life as she always had: grocery shopping, eating at cheap cafes, and putting on no airs. She was an approachable femme fatale: a rare find. Even after her film success, she could be found cracking up with crew members or spectators between takes.

Lupe tangoes her way to stardom with Douglas Fairbanks in The Gaucho.

When Lupe saw a chance to advance her career by going rogue in Hollywood, she took it. After being hand-picked by Richard Bennett to audition for  the stage play "The Dove," she earned a free ride to the land of eternal sunshine. Unfortunately, Mexico was not ready to let her go. She and her chihuahua were halted at customs when she was discovered to be both underage at seventeen and lacking her mother's signature on her pass. Lupe went home, corrected the mistakes, and tried again. After this second attempt, she arrived in L.A, using what little English she knew ("Hell!" being one of the words) only to find that her opportunity with Bennett was lost. She was determined to stay and make something of herself nonetheless, and she obtained bit parts in Hal Roach comedies opposite luminaries like Laurel & Hardy and Charley Chase. Then came the big lift! She was offered the chance of a lifetime when Douglas Fairbanks asked her to audition as his hot-blooded, comedic love interest in The Gaucho. Ironically, when Lupe arrived, Doug found her to be too "innocent." That was a laugh. He quickly altered his opinion when she refused to take off her shoes for the audition. Then, as instructed, she punched Eve Southern in a scene, but a bit too hard-- she gave her a black eye. Doug cast her, and the nineteen-year-old Lupe tangoed her way to glory. From this moment on, her career in Hollywood grew and grew. Her personality on film was alive and infectious-- she practically jumped off the screen. Not only did she gives actors like the ever electric Fairbanks a run for his money with her scene-stealing, but she also won the respect of her peers. Lon Chaney paid her the highest of compliments while working with her on Where East is East, even after her surprising talent nearly mopped the floor with the entire cast. In addition, each director and crew member she came across was inspired and touched by the way she approached her work with both great focus and professionalism. When she made a mistake, she would literally kick herself in the rump-- she was so hard on herself that no one else had to be. When the talkie revolution came, she easily transferred to sound, despite her accent, which was a true testament to her star power.

Lupe and fellow Mexican actress Dolores del Rio. Despite publicity

gags, the two got along well.

Of course, Lupe's "exotic" looks and origin always played into both her onscreen and off screen life. Though admittedly she knew very little English when she arrived in the United States, by the time the talkies had emerged, she had already learned to speak it elegantly. Nonetheless, in all of her film work and in every interview, the Spanish-speaking lady's language barrier was always exaggerated for comic effect. Her Mexican heritage was both her schtick and a stigma. Because Lupe was hot-tempered in reality and a very fun-loving, high-living kind of gal, her antics were always blamed or laughed off as a symptom of her Mexican-ness. Instead of this serving as a celebration of her ethnicity, it often felt like a slap in the face. As Michelle Vogel pointed out in her biography of Lupe, the actress's only real rival in Hollywood was the equally Mexican-born Dolores del Rio. As such, the gossip mills set tongues wagging with talks of a vengeful rivalry between the two ladies-- and ladies they were. They had no issues with each other and were never really in competition for roles, because they were such different people. However, Dolores carried herself with more grace and diplomacy than Lupe, who was essentially the Mexican Lucille Ball. Consequently, Lupe had much more trouble crossing over into the world of the truly-- "sniff, sniff"-- elite. Thus, her heritage was used to tie her to cliched acting roles and, quite often, to make fun of her in her private life. Lupe would play it up in the press to maintain her persona, but the pretense came to hurt her deeply.

No acting necessary: Loop and Coop fell in love quickly 

on the set of Wolf Song.

And her private life was a blazin'! Aside from her childhood sweetheart, whom she left for the stage, and the millionaire who tried to marry her in Mexico, whom she refused, Lupe didn't seem to have too much time for love. Men, yes. Love, no. That is, until she met her exact opposite: Gary Cooper. Tall, quiet, bashful, and ever-patient, Coop was easily taken in by Lupe when they began work on Wolf Song. Much as he had been attracted to Clara Bow, Coop seemed to be entranced by all of the fiery qualities in Lupe that he did not possess. She, in turn, was enamored of his calmness in the face of her constant storms. The tales of their lovers brawls are legendary, and usually involve Coop sitting silently as Lupe howled at him like a banshee. He would later proudly show off the war wounds that she had left him-- literally. I'm talking scars, people. Obviously, with their polar temperaments, the union couldn't last. They grew increasingly jealous and suspicious of each other, though Lupe always protested to be a one-man woman. (Sadly, monogmony was not one of Coop's major qualities). The straw that broke the camel's back was said to be Coop's mother, Alice, who never approved of Lupe, nor had she approved of Clara. Coop thus settled down with the more acceptable socialite Veronica "Rocky" Balfe, and Lupe lived with an eternal broken heart. Friends believe she never fully recovered, and she would openly admit to those closest to her that Coop was the love of her life: the one that got away, the only man she ever loved...

She thought she had found a better partner when she wed Johnny Weissmuller. He was Tarzan, for Pete's sake! Certainly he could handle a little heat in the so-called kitchen. Well, he could... For a time. But Johnny also quickly realized that the great passion and love that drew him to Lupe could not withstand their obvious differences. After her divorce from Johnny, Lupe would enjoy a brief engagement to Guinn "Big Boy" Williams, but that too eventually went kaput. Through it all, Lupe's career had enjoyed its ups and downs. For a time, her career seemed to be taking quite the nosedive, and she was often shoved into silly B-films in supporting roles. The public seemed to be losing interest, and her studio was losing faith in her. She did a handful of projects abroad, but she was quickly back in the limelight with the success of The Girl From Mexico. This launched the series with which she is most often associated: The Mexican Spitfire. Again, the films lampooned her accent and caricatured "Lupe" persona, but her timing and often improvised sense of comedy made the films (eight in all) huge hits. The plots centered around misunderstandings, mistaken identities, and the always hilarious strains of marital discord. Partnered with funny man Leon Errol, the two fools volleyed off each other while the cast of supporting players merely rotated around them and held on for dear life! It seemed that Lupe had managed to salvage her career, and it was only getting better. Little did the public know that the funniest woman on the silver screen was privately hurting.

A great shot depicting both the tigress and the scared kitten inside.

It has been speculated by many that Lupe suffered from the mental strains of bi-polar disorder. This would explain the mood-swings, the failures of her romantic relationships, and possibly her death. As much as we may try to probe into someone's psychology to try to understand why she took her own life, a spectator can never fully grasp the complexities and pains that drive a person to take such drastic measures. What we know in retrospect is that Lupe was four months pregnant when she committed suicide with the aid of 75 Seconal pills. The reason, which she herself stipulated in one of her suicide notes, (she addressed one to her lover and the other to her faithful housekeeper), was that the father of her child refused to marry her. Alone, this reason doesn't seem like reason enough, not with the publicly known Lupe being so brimming with life. However, if you add onto this her possible mental disorder, years of misfortune in love, and her actually very real religious life, we may be getting closer to the truth. She thought to bear a child out of wedlock was an unforgiveable sin. There too is well-founded speculation that the child she took with her to the other side was not that of her current amour--Harald Ramond aka Harald Maresch-- but that of long lost love and sometimes lover Gary Cooper. 

When Lupe's plan to have her sister Josefina raise her child temporarily until she could "adopt" it fell through-- due to Josefina's noncommittal attitude-- it is quite possible that in a weak moment, Lupe felt hopeless, alone, and betrayed. Some think she merely meant to make a statement, using an attempted suicide as a stunt to garner sympathy from Harald and force a proposal, but the amount of Seconal in her body-- even more than killed Carole Landis later in 1948-- doesn't suggest that this was an accidental overdose. Lupe, as always, went full throttle. In addition, Harald had in fact proposed to her, but was unable to commit to a quick marriage, due to what one assumes was his marital status to another woman. He too wanted to prove that he could earn enough to support her. It is believed that when he suggested that he and Lupe have a "fake marriage" until they could make it official,  she misunderstood his reasoning. But, perhaps she just tired of the charade, and the hiding, and the white-washed BS. Lupe had always played it straight with the public, never hiding behind edited words or false idol appearances. With the loss of another Prince Charming, life had become too desperate. Thus, on the night of Dec. 13, 1944, Lupe succumbed to her own insecurities and despite what certain slanderous, false historians say, she died in her bed-- not with her head in the toilet. She was but 36-years-old. She once said, "I've never met a man with whom I didn't have to fight to exist." She had finally pulled the gloves off. Fittingly, the night after her death, the Hollywood Legion Stadium-- where she had attended so many boxing matches, revving both the fighters and the crowd up-- paid her tribute by placing a spotlight on the seat that she would normally have occupied. The bell was lightly tapped in her honor as well.

And this is what gorgeous looks like: Lupe was equally capable

of dramatic roles, and her directors were amazed at the

way she could turn on the waterworks at will.

It is always those who laugh loudest that seem to be the most in pain. Comedy and tragedy, which seem so far apart, are closer than one assumes. Thus, Lupe Velez, the always hamming firecracker from Mexico, was covering up an ocean of secrets with her brave, bold facade. She certainly would not wish to be remembered the way she currently is-- as yet another Hollywood tragedy, mocked in such publications as Hollywood Babylon. The real Lupe was something different. The real Lupe, who triumphed again and again over her own madness, was good friends with and the comic envy of Carole Lombard. The real Lupe had a love and passion for life that drew men and fans to her like moths to a flame. The real Lupe was incredibly generous, providing for her family, doling out her fortune, and using her limited Hollywood power to help anyone in need. Lupe was an eternal dreamer, a woman of great humor, who-- despite her extensive jewelry collection, which single-handedly saved her from the crash of '29-- had no vanity. She was just as comfortable laughing it up with the guys-- Errol Flynn was known to wander over to her house for a late night game of cards when he, like she, was unable to sleep-- as she was endearing women to her, most of whom-- like Estelle Taylor and Mary Pickford-- always offered her a protective, maternal gaze. Lupe was such an unpretentious woman of the earth, that her escape to Heaven seems almost absurd. But there was more, much more, to this dynamo than met the eye. Now, her secrets are buried with her, as is a flame in Hollywood history that should have burned on much, much longer.

HISTORY LESSON: Hollywood Suicide

A title card from The Flapper, which ironically appears after Olive Thomas's character decides 

not to kill herself. This single slide could serve as the explanation many have

 as to why Olive's death was not a suicide but an accident-- 

she loved life too much to let go... Or did she?

As Halloween creeps closer, I thought it relevant to dip into the more macabre side of Hollywood. Since All Hallows Eve is embraced as a public indulgence in the sometimes very thin line between life and death, it seems a perfect holiday for La La Land. Hollywood itself, sometimes appearing as a glorious Heaven and others as a torturous Hell, has birthed multiple superstars but has too killed its own children. The most depressing and pitiable of these fallen angels are those who choose to take their own lives. In all cases, the deaths are shocking, unexpected, and heartbreaking, but there are a few that are so unbelievable that, even when given direct reason or motive, one cannot wrap his or her mind around the tragedy; at least I can't. Olive Thomas remains the first official poster girl for the inexplicable, self-inflicted death, which to this day remains debatable. One can continue to turn over the evidence, but the varying testimonies of husband Jack Pickford, the memories of friends, and the final conclusions of medical professionals all produce contradictory evidence. Whether suicide or accident, the outcome is still devastating and Olive still a victim. Journeying down this same vein of the unfathomable and unreasonable disappearance of some of our brightest stars, I've compiled the following collection of some of the most bizarre and yet little discussed suicides in Hollywood History. Years after their shattered ends, one can still cry "Why, oh, why?" to the Hollywood Hills and receive no answer but a pained echo for the lost souls, volleying without end.


LUPE VELEZ:

Lupe was branded the "Mexican Spitfire" due to her feisty, sensual, uncontainable spirit and her obvious heritage. Born in San Luis Potosi, she-- like Dolores Del Rio and Anna May Wong-- paved the way in the industry for "ethnic" girls, bringing her beauty, fire, and passion to the screen with full force. After a stint in vaudeville, Lupe landed in Hollywood where she made unprecedented, scene-stealing appearances in films opposite Douglas Fairbanks (The Gaucho) and Lon Chaney (Where East is East). The girl didn't just have "something," she had something indescribable. Who else in the history of cinema has outshone the Man of a Thousand Faces? Intensely sexual with a temper to match, she had a notorious romance with Gary Cooper-- whose placid demeanor was probably the only one who could withstand her raging bouts of anger-- and a failed marriage to an equal wild man, Johnny Weissmuller. Her career thrived through the silent era, where she gained a reputation as a comedienne with punch and panache, but the coming of talkies allegedly inhibited her career due to her obvious accent-- taking her out of the running of more acceptable, all-American leading ladies-- and later accusations of communist support dampened her public appeal. In her thirties, she did Broadway, returned to her native Mexico-- where she was very popular-- and landed back in Hollywood where she fell into the arms of actor Harald Maresch. Then, on Dec. 13, 1944, Lupe was gone, having taken her own life with the aid of Seconal. She was but 36-years-old. The reason for her shocking end was given by herself in a suicide note: "To Harald, may God forgive you and forgive me too but I prefer to take my life away and our baby's before I bring him with shame, or killing him, Lupe." The reason, therefore, for her desperate final act, was personal shame over the fact that Harald had gotten her pregnant and refused to marry her, but even in this there is controversy. 

Lupe may have gone to convent school as a child, but she was far from conventional. A vibrant, caution-be-damned kind of girl, it is doubtful that she killed herself to protect her own reputation and save her child from a life of ridicule.  The Lupe the world knew and loved would have most certainly socked anyone in the nose who so much as looked at her child the wrong way. There must be more to the story, and in the end it seems more likely that it was Lupe's own impulsive, defiant behavior that killed her. Perhaps after a lifetime of broken hearts, a lover's refusal of marriage became the last straw. One could argue that she killed herself more to hurt Harald for his betrayal or to simply give one last eff-you to the world that she had considered so cruel. Adela Rogers St. Johns would state that Harald had every intention of marrying Lupe, but simply refused to lie about the date of the nuptials in order to make their child the product of marriage and not conversely marriage the product of the child. If this is true, it makes the suicide even more head-scratching. More puzzling is the speculation that Harald was totally innocent in the debacle and that the child was that of Gary Cooper, with whom Lupe had maintained an on-again off-again affair. The most commonly accepted theory is that Lupe was not a well woman. Her vacillations in temperament indicate that she would have been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder had such a disease been recognized in her day. Friends too reported that, despite her bravado, in which she attacked life with chin out and up, Lupe had great pain and melancholy. On rare occasions, she would open up about her life's disappointments and what she felt was the absence of real love. Her death scene is too debatable because of the way it has been painted. Some state that she was found lying in a bed of white satin, completely composed and beautiful, the way she herself had dramatically staged it. Others attest that she had a violent reaction to the Seconal and died with her head in the toilet, drowning to death. Both are debatable: suicide is never a glossy affair, but one doubts that anyone could "drown" in a toilet, given that the weight of the human body would, if unconscious, naturally slump to the floor. The only hard core truth we can rely on is that Lupe left us all too soon, and whatever reason she had for taking her own life was not reason enough.


GEORGE SANDERS:

Talk about unexpected... The Sultan of Snark and fastest s-wordsman of witty barbs taking his own life? No. Not possible. George Sanders, on screen and off, seemed to be the smartest of them all and ten steps ahead of everyone else. Sitting comfortably on a pedestal of intellect, he looked down his nose at a world of neandrethals and gloated at his own superiority. We counted on his smirking charm to add layers of humor and biting edge to films like The Picture of Dorian Gray and All About Eve, and with every opportunity to impress us with his entrancing voice-- one put to use as Shere Khan in The Jungle Book-- he succeeded. But this Englishman too must have been hiding a secret behind his superior jabs and polished deviance, for his life ended in April of 1972 by his own hand. Even more startling is the fact that he was well into his sixties when he committed this personal atrocity. One thinks of suicide as being the haven for discontented and bruised youths who have given up hope; apparently we never mature past our own insecurities and need for escape. After four marriages, one of which was to Zsa Zsa Gabor, George dwindled into ill health. The aid of alcohol certainly didn't help things, and in his later years he had become mentally unstable, experiencing moments of complete delirium, which resulted in angry outbursts. Losing his mental faculties-- the man whose shrewd mind was his key asset-- was something he could not bear. When he was unable to play his piano, he solved the problem by chopping it to bits. He wandered aimlessly, landing in Barcelona, where he finally said farewell as only he would, with annoyance and condescension: "Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck." His drug of choice was Nembutal. What remains so indiscernible is that a sharp man such as himself could suddenly become the butt of life's joke.


CHARLES BOYER:

The ultimate French lover, Charles Boyer could inspire amore in even the lowest of skunks-- which he did when Looney Tunes modeled Pepe le Pew after him. With unforgettable performances ranging from superb malevolence in Gaslight to pious romanticism in All This, and Heaven Too, his acting talents were enhanced by a single raised eyebrow that drew women to him like moths to a flame. In his private life, Charles maintained his suavity but had much less ego. Fairly shy but amiable, he was entrancing for reasons aside from his looks-- which was necessary since he was prematurely balding, short, and had a bit of a gut. Originally a student of philosophy and a fluent speaker of five languages, the equally religious man wed his only wife in 1934 and remained faithful to her for the next 44 years (although, James Cagney--also a loyal husband-- would recall overhearing ol' Charles putting the moves on a young actress on one of their WWII morale boosting tours). The classy Irene Dunne named him as one of her two favorite leading men, (Cary Grant being the other), and he was able to befriend even the intensely private Maurice Chevalier. However, despite a prosperous career and happy marriage, darkness too was lurking over Charles's shoulder. After losing his son, Michael-- who shot himself either by accident or suicide on his twenty-first birthday-- Charles lost his beloved wife Pat nearly fourteen years later in 1978. Two days after this tragedy, Charles took his own life, again with the aid of Seconal. It is believed that he did so because the great romantic could not bear life without his paramour, but there had to be more cracks in a man than a broken heart to spur on such a desperate act. Whatever pains he felt in his personal life, he kept hidden, therefore giving a performance that far outshone anything he did on the silver screen. Without Pat as the glue to hold him together against his demons, death must have seemed the only out, but the results still make one shake the head in consternation.


MARGARET SULLAVAN:

Everyone's favorite girl-next-door ruled the silver screen in roles that showcased both her warmth and resilience. Close friends would be impressed with these qualities in her private life, including Jimmy Stewart who was head-over-heels for her in his early career. Maggie was a fighter, and proved it by overcoming a muscular weakness that prevented her from walking when she was a child. Rebellious in spirit, she overcame this malady and grew into a tomboy who shrugged off familial disapproval to pursue a career in dance and theater. When they cut her off financially, she paid her own way, making it all the way to Hollywood and cementing herself as a leading lady with grace and gumption. One of her most remarked upon qualities was her voice, which did not ring out clear as a bell, like so many young ingenues, but was instead deep and lush. Few knew that this was because she had a hearing problem diagnosed as otosclerosis: only by speaking at a deeper register could she even hear herself. As she aged, her condition worsened, which deeply affected her psychologically, as did her divorce from third husband Leland Hayward. After her three children forsook her to live with their father, Margaret was crushed. Separated from her family, she felt alienated and it gave her great pain to see the lives of her loved ones fall apart-- all of her children possessed her same rebellious spirit if not her focused drive. She became increasingly depressed, finding it difficult to sleep, and spent a great deal of time on her own. Though she continued to work, her only real companion seemed to be the foggy static that used to serve as noise in her increasingly isolated and lonely life. After spending time briefly in a mental institution, she was found home in bed suffering a Barbituate overdose on New Years Day 1960. It was too late to save her life. It continues to be argued whether the death was accidental or purposeful, but examining the evidence it seems that Maggie's flinty strength finally succumbed to her emotional abandonment. To make things even more tragic, two of her other children-- Bridget and Bill-- would later commit suicide, continuing the sad legacy. Only daughter Brooke remained to pen the novel of her family's breakdown: Haywire. Watching Maggie's movies today, she remains one of the least likely candidates for such a death, yet there the hard truth lies-- etched in stone. 


LOU TELLEGEN:

Lou is a rarely remembered film personality. If he is recalled at all, it is only by history buffs who know him as the one-time husband of screen siren and opera star Geraldine Farrar. A handsome man, he clearly had something in the way of charm, since he was able to woo some of the biggest and most untouchable women in show business, including the illustrious Sarah Bernhardt in addition to Farrar. Charm also helped him in his acting career, where it has been reported that what he lacked in talent he made up for in personality and the ability to forge the correct "relationships." He got his start on the stage after seducing Bernhardt, who cast the young man as her leading man. He had no experience and at the time had just been released from prison. His drive for success was perhaps propelled by his status as an "illegetimate child." The legitimacy that he lacked in infancy, he clearly sought to attain in adulthood through prosperity. His ambition revealed itself in his first marriage-- to a countess. The name of his auto-biography, therefore, seems befitting: Women Have Been Kind. With his good looks, he clearly knew how to play the game to suit his needs, but after three failed marriages he still had not found what he was looking for. Thrown into the mix was his dwindling career, which included stage plays and film roles (including 3 Bad Men), often playing unsavory characters with an agenda. Things took a turn when his handsome face was damaged in a fire, thus leaving him without his oft played Ace. By 1934, he too was suffering from Cancer (a fact that was kept from him) and bankruptcy. With no career, no woman to save him, and a lifetime of mistakes and lost opportunities, Lou at fifty-one had nothing. This makes his death not necessarily surprising, as his sad state was obvious to those around him; what makes his suicide shocking is its execution. Lou's method was masochistic: standing before a mirror, he stabbed himself with a pair of sewing scissors... seven times. Legend has it that this was done while he was surrounded by newspaper clippings of his past glories, which is true figuratively if not literally. 

The mysterious and saddening ends of W.S. Van Dyke, Max Linder, Phyllis Haver, Brian Keith, Everett Sloane, etc. could be added to this never-ending list. The question is, is Hollywood really a major contributing culprit in their deaths, or does living larger-than-life simply project a more intense version of universal truths? Clearly, when you have climbed higher than the rest, you have farther to fall, and for those who have once tasted ambrosia on Mount Olympus to be left with only memories of past glories, a quiet, solitary life does not seem as inviting as the eternal silence of death-- which will shut out their unfulfilled desires with their sorrows. If Hollywood were erased from the equation, it seems that all of these stories would have ended the same way, for it does not appear that the loss of fame tipped the scales against Margaret Sullavan or Charles Boyer as it more fully did to Tellegan. Why is it then that this city still seems to be to blame, at least partly? Life in show-business, so rich, passionate, and dramatic seems to induce equally dramatic ends. Just as plot-twists give unsuspecting film viewers a thrilling whip-lash, tabloid truths have too taken us for a loop when things don't end the way we expect them to. Perhaps these deaths seem more brutal because we never expect our stars to die at all-- even when they do die, they don't. Olive Thomas still uproariously mugs at us in her remaining masterpiece, The Flapper-- a film in which she ironically backs out of a half-hearted suicide attempt-- and she has been gone for nearly one-hundred years. This haunting quality only adds to the Hollywood mystique: light and shadows, glamour and debauchery, flecks of gold and celluloid dust. For every lost life, thousands of movie fans are born to take its place; to continue carrying the torch for lights snuffed out by the cool hand of death.