MENTAL MONTAGE: 50 G's, or the Kid Gets it!

If Rita Hayworth were as handy with a gun as Elsa Bannister,

her private life may have been a little less frightening.

Fame is attractive. Perhaps too much so. The brilliant light of celebrity glows so brightly that it is bound to attract all kinds of insects. While being a movie star may, therefore, appear to be glamorous, all that swatting at intrusive pests can become quite irritating... even horrifying. Every cinema great has a story when it comes to seeing the dark side of fanaticism and fame. Some have been sent obscene letters, stalked, hounded, etc. But the worst of the worst is when the threat of death comes knocking at the mansion door; when the wealth and prestige one has worked to accumulate is suddenly used against him by the very public that originally built him up. Extortion, blackmail, ransom... You name it. When you have money, you are going to make a lot of "friends" fast and a lot of enemies even faster. The worst of it comes when a parent's own child is used as the bargaining chip. Most of the time, these vile threats are just that-- pathetic, get-rich-quick schemes connived by ill-adept con-artists. On rare occasions, the worst can happen, as in the tragic kidnapping and subsequent death of the Lindbergh baby. Here are a few examples of when the lifestyles of the rich and famous became nightmares of the sick and twisted. Greed knows no shame...

Rita Hayworth never went in for the whole celebrity lifestyle. While she had great pride in her hard work, she did not invite nor yearn for a place in the spotlight. If she was disenchanted with the pretentious, hoity-toityness of Hollywood initially, she became completely tormented after the hypothetical high-life threatened the peace of her home and the safety of her children. After she married Orson Welles and gave birth to their daughter, Rebecca(together left), the trouble began. She was already on emotional pins and needles as her marriage collapsed (after a brief reconciliation while filming The Lady from Shanghai together). Mostly on her own, with secretary Shifra Haran and Rebecca as her only company, she was completely blindsided and terrified when a fan letter was sent to her on Feb 2, 1947 from "The Scar Never Fails" of Cleveland, TN. The author demanded $2000 in a week's time, threatening to kidnap Rebecca if his demands were not met. In addition, he intimidated Rita by making violent threats against her own life, ignorantly asking her if she wanted to wind up looking like "the blue daliha[sic]," clearly referencing "Black Dahlia" Elizabeth Short, whose mutilated and bisected body had just been found the previous month. If Rita did not comply with the blackmailer, she was told that lye would be "thrown into those beautiful eyes of yours." Needless to say, she was panicked and frightened. Luckily, by the time she even became aware of the letter, blackmailer James Gibson was already in custody. Having dealt with the shock almost completely on her own, she decided it was time to give old Orson the heave ho', and she filed for divorce the next month. Unfortunately, this was not the last threat to Rebecca's life. When vacationing with her mother and Aly Khan, Rebecca was actually physically grabbed by a man on the beach at Deauville. Luckily, the nanny who was watching her was able to call for help and the culprit didn't get far.


The one positive during this latter episode was the attentiveness of Aly, who was a much more nurturing partner than Orson had been. However, it was Rita's relationship, or rather failed relationship, with Aly that would put her children in even further danger. Their daughter, Princess Yasmin (right, with mom), became a prime target for kidnappers after she was brought back to America. Due to her royal status and wealthy parentage, she looked like a pretty sack of cash to unsavory individuals looking to make some easy money. Just prior to her divorce from Aly, Rita received threatening letters that demanded a hefty ransom in return for Yasmin's life. Rita had tried to find a little serenity by taking both of her girls to Lake Tahoe for some respite. Imagine her surprise when the District Attorney showed up at her door with seven guards telling her that there had been a threat made against Yasmin's life! Apparently, D.A. Jack Streeter had serendipitously overheard two culprits bragging about how much Yasmin would be worth, then listened as they laid out their plan to approach by boat, snatch Yasmin, and escape across the lake. The morons had no idea that they were divulging their plans to the very man who would stop them. Thus, Rita and her children were surrounded by bodyguards as they waited nervously for danger to approach. Luckily, none did. Perhaps the two dimwitted gents had merely been describing a fantasy scenario; perhaps they approached, saw all the feds, and decided to back off. In any case, Yasmin was safe... For now. When Rita finally was able to escape with the girls to the Beverly Hills Hotel, she became irate when a reporter broke into her hotel room and started taking photos of her daughters. If it had been that easy for him to get in, imagine what would happen if a person with evil intent made a move!


The worst was to come while Rita was being squired by next beau, Dick Haymes, who had essentially set his sights on Rita to solve his own financial woes and too help him out of his latest debacle-- he was being threatened with deportation to Argentina. (When visiting Rita in Hawaii, which was then not a U.S. state, he had failed to notify the authorities). In the midst of this mess, Rita received the first of three threatening letters on Aug. 24, 1953. Rita was going through her divorce from the Muslim Prince when this poison pen author claimed that Yasmin would be killed if she did not return to Aly. Since Rita had been unfairly dubbed a "homewrecker" and a "whore" after she allegedly broke up Aly's first marriage, it was clear that a religious fanatic was invoking the wrath of God on her and her sinful ways. The second letter she received informed her that if Yasmin was not returned to Aly, someone would "beat you so that you will have to go to the hospilal and your career as movie star will be over [sic]." At this point, Rita became incredibly paranoid, fearing that perhaps it was father-in-law Aga Khan III himself who was orchestrating this whole thing as a scare tactic to get her to return to his son. Such was not the case, but the intimidation had reached such a level that even J. Edgar Hoover got involved. Everyone was on the lookout for more letters with the same postmark of Rochelle, NY. The third letter came mere days before Rita's wedding to Dick. It stated: "Yasmine [sic] will die unless her father is permitted to raise her as a Moslem." Then... silence. The money was never paid, and the villain stopped his correspondence. Luckily, the worst Rebecca and Yasmin were to suffer through the ordeal was the inconvenience of constant police surveillance. (Dick, Rita, and the kiddies left).


Marlene Dietrich was also a fiercely protective mother. Though her relationship with only child, daughter Maria Riva (together right), would grow complicated over the years, no one could deny her intense pleasure at being a mom nor her overpowering maternal instincts. This was never more evident than in Maria's earliest years, when Marlene took a brief respite from show-biz to play Mama. Yet, entertaining was in her blood, so it was only a matter of time before she returned to the spotlight. She was ecstatic about her sudden success with The Blue Angel and her American hit Morocco. However, when she crossed over to the United States, all was not all rosy. She would receive one Hell of a welcome when, almost immediately, Maria's safety was threatened. Just prior to filming Blonde Venus, Marlene received the first of several ransom letters. The extortionist demanded that $10,000 be placed in a box and left on the running board of a car, which was to be parked in front of her house. Marlene started shaking: "I have never known such fear in my life. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep." She immediately went to husband Rudi (Sieber), who wanted to call the police, but since the letter insisted that the police not be involved, Marlene resisted the intervention of law enforcement. Instead, Rudi did the next best thing, which was to enlist the aid of Josef von Sternberg and Maurice Chevalier, the latter of whom just happened to call when the hysteria was setting in.


And so it was that dapper Frenchman Maurice (left) arrived with both a pistol and a shotgun. He and Josef stood guard at Maria's door while Rudi patrolled the house and grounds, being clever enough to constantly change his clothes, so the kidnappers believed that there were more people around. More letters arrived, with the ransom price jumping to $20,000. As Marlene grew more nervous, Rudi maintained composure. Finally, the letters came to a stop. No thieves ever showed. Maurice tipped his hat, holstered his guns, and went home. It seemed the whole thing had either been a hoax or an ill-performed attempt that the instigators failed to follow through with. Things slowly returned to normal, but Marlene insisted that life always remained a bit bittersweet after that. When she started filming Blonde Venus, she insisted that Maria accompany her to set and be placed just out of camera range, so she could keep her eye on her. She later asked Rudi how he had remained so calm, to which he admitted that he had actually called the police unbeknown to her from the very beginning. The entire time that she had been biting her nails, the house and her daughter were under complete surveillance. Rudi said that he was afraid if she knew, she would be unable to go about her business normally, thus alerting the kidnappers to the police presence. He didn't think she was that good of an actress!


In February of 1934, Spencer Tracy also got an unfortunate introduction to an extortionist who went by the name of "Rattlesnake Pete." By this time, Spence was receiving oodles of fan mail, but one particular letter, written in pencil, definitely stood out from the pack. It too arrived straight to his Holmby Avenue address, which was even more alarming. Rattlesnake demanded $8,000 in return for the safety of Spence, his wife, mother, children Susie and John, as well as his recent paramour Loretta Young (together in Man's Castle, right). This was unnerving, mostly because the person seemed to have intimate knowledge of all the people surrounding Spence and too seemed to be taking some sort of cocky revenge on his infidelities. Rattlesnake made sure to illustrate the gravity of the situation by referencing recent ransom victim, Minnesota banker Edward G. Bremer, who had just paid the highest price to date for his safety-- $200,000-- to the Barker-Karpis gang. He warned that if Spence didn't pay up on the allotted March 10th drop date, the price would only go up. Spence took every precaution he could, moving his children to his mother's place in Westlake Park and calling the authorities, despite the warning not to do so. Wife Louise was blissfully ignorant of the whole charade, since she was out of town, unreachable, and snowed in. Detectives watched the family constantly, which was a thorn in the 10-year-old John's side, though Susie was too young to be aware of the situation. When Spence was forced to tell John that if he wandered off, a "bad man" may take him away, the little boy got the picture sure enough and remained terrified throughout the rest of the ordeal.


When Louise finally received word, she rushed home as quickly as she could and stuck to her children like white on rice. The family (left) was at the end of their tether as the dreaded drop date approached. The police authorized Spence to go ahead with the exchange in the hope that they would be able to swoop in and catch the culprit. So, on March 10th, Spence rode out to Wilshire and Western with chauffeur Walter... and Detective Joseph Filkas crouched in the back seat! They were told that a man would jump onto the side of the car and grab the dough. Though they followed instructions, the blackmailer never appeared. After that, Rattlesnake Pete became silent, never sending another letter. Spence had a theory that his last chauffeur may have been the guilty party, since he had been bitter when Spence fired him. Yet, when police investigated, the evidence was too inconclusive to make an arrest. The handwriting didn't check out. Rattlesnake Pete was never found.


The idea of losing one's child is perhaps the worst feeling a parent can endure, but there was one single lady who had her share of scares as well. In 1935, Thelma Todd (right) was doing more than well for herself. A successful, beautiful comedienne, the "Ice-cream Blonde" too had a roaring business going with her Sidewalk Cafe, co-owned by ex-lover Roland West. However, despite the fact that everyone in America seemed to love her, Thelma continuously got a slew of evil letters threatening her life. She once had to call a bomb squad to the restaurant because an offender claimed he had planted one inside! None was ever found. Some of these hate notes were certainly from obsessive fans, or anti-fans, but due to the company she had previously kept, Toddy also had an idea that ex-flame Lucky Luciano and perhaps even ex-husband Pat DiCicco had something to do with it. Since Lucky was miffed that Thelma wouldn't allow him to use the upper level of her restaurant for his gambling purposes, there had been a violent rift between them. She often felt herself being watched and followed. The hate mail grew to such a level that her maid, Mae Whitehead, took a batch of letters to the police station as a part of her regular duties. No shrinking violet, Thel' wasn't about to let the abuse go on. She kept the cops well informed, bought a white bull terrier named White King, and purchased herself a pretty little handgun, which she kept tucked in her purse.


The most fearful letters came from a man called "The Ace," who decorated his correspondence with a drawing of the ace of hearts in the lower, right-hand corner. His mail started Feb. 2 and continued five times more through November. His letters were different than the others, since they each named different men that Toddy had been romantically involved with, including Roland and bandleader Abe Lyman. She too received strange, mumbling  phone calls from Ace. The instructions she received-- money for her life-- were confusing. She was told to send $10,000 to Abe Lyman in New York, while Abe was told in a separate letter to send $20,000 to radio man Major Edward Bowes (?!?!). None of the three involved could make heads or tails of it. Soon, Thelma's number was up to $20,000. She decided to take action. She was to make the drop at Hollywood, but instead, the feisty lady left a letter at the allotted space, which stated that she wanted to meet the blackmailer face to face. Another meet was set, and Thelma drove to the Warner's Theater, where she saw a fidgety man in a hat, who made sure to obscure his face. He came up to the car and gave her directions to a secluded place where they could make the swap. After tossing out a "Not on your life, pal!" Thelma put the pedal to the metal and sped off. She went straight to the police, who first scolded her for setting up this dangerous operation without them, and then instructed her to try again with them in tow. She obliged. This time, when Ace stuck his head in the car and reached for the money in her purse, he caught a sight of her gun and made a dash for it. He got away again, but not for long. (Thelma with White King in her last photo, left).


The police made an arrest in Astoria, NY. Hotel superintendent Harry Schimanski was a 34-year-old obsessed fan who had photos of the lovely Thelma (right) taped all over his apartment. Though he pleaded "not guilty," Thelma was glad to at least have the guy in custody. To make things more confusing, however, more letters started to arrive, this time from "A Friend." This guy demanded $50,000, or Thelma would be killed and her restaurant burned to the ground. Luckily, the police located 28-year-old Edward Schieffert immediately, and he made no protest. In fact, he openly admitted that he had been the author. He was proud of it! He said that Thelma was his "dream girl." Obviously, he was a bit confused about proper wooing procedure. The strange thing was that he too admitted to the Ace letters. Since he was quickly committed to Bellevue after being deemed mentally unstable, it is still uncertain if these were just more mad claims or if he was in fact some kind of maniacal genius playing two games at once. Thelma was just glad that the harassment was over. Her peace would be short lived. She would be found dead that December.

Ironically, Spence portrayed a man wrongfully accused of

kidnapping in Fury.

Oh, the negative side of fame... Countless stories could be told. Linda Darnell's attempted $2000 extortion by a seventeen-year-old from Salt Lake City; Gloria Swanson's attempted blackmail by ex-husband Harry Samborn... It seems that there is no rest for the wealthy. Fame has a price, and it is staggering. The emotional toll is often more damaging than the financial one, which is perhaps why, for matters of pride, the aforementioned individuals refused to pay up, even if it meant that they could wind up six feet under. In the end, it wasn't about the money; it was about dignity and smarts. Where you find one cockroach, there are bound to be more. Sometimes you have no choice but to squash 'em, especially when a threat is made against your offspring. If the natural world has taught us anything, it is that you don't come between a mother and her cubs. Not even in Tinsel Town.

STAR OF THE MONTH: Marlene Dietrich

Marlene Dietrich is one of those incredibly annoying people who makes everything look easy. From her flawless appearance and sense of fashion, to her unparalleled career on the silver screen and on the stage, to her tireless efforts and ceaseless energy, to the inexplicable way she could attract the opposite sex (or her own), the woman always seemed to get what she wanted. But, "seem" is the key word here. While fans may be hypnotized by her infectious persona and sultry sensuality, there was much work that went behind the make-up. The dignified, impenetrable force of Dietrich's strength-- the core of her integrity-- is the true source of her allure, and why her camera-beloved face remains as well-known and worshipped today as it did during her Hollywood reign. With Marlene, we are always "falling in love again." We can't help it.

Marlene Dietrich

Marie Magdalene Dietrich, nicknamed "Leni," was born in Schoneberg, Germany just outside Berlin on December 27, 1901. From the beginning, it was clear that the child was special, if only because of her exceptional beauty, which every passer-by seemed to comment on. But there was something else to Leni. She was not studious and obedient like her elder sister "Liesel". While she did adhere to her parents' rules and learned early about responsibility and cleanliness, there was too a bit of mischief brewing within that was just waiting to erupt. Leni never connected with her father, Louis Erich Otto Dietrich, who was an imperial officer, but rather watched him curiously from afar. She bonded more with her mother, Josefine Felsing-- of the clockmaker family-- from whom she learned a love of cooking. One piece of education that Leni did not grasp was this concept of "gender roles." Her mother's need to keep up the household and her undeterred respect for her husband-- despite his philandering and slow decent from public dignity-- was at once embraced and refused by her youngest daughter. Leni could accept the duty but shirked the lack of freedom. After her father died-- probably from syphilis, though the girls were told it was from a heart attack-- Leni was parted even more from her understanding of male authority. She never completely learned to open herself up emotionally to any man. There was always a distance, a misconception, and a space she needed to live in to feel safe. She was eternally conflicted. Her need to adhere and rebel would be forever ingrained in her subconscious. 


While sister Liesel excelled at school and went on to become a teacher, Marlene-- as Leni was now more glamorously calling herself-- was not so inclined. She received good marks, but had no use for education outside of violin lessons and French class, which she loved. When her favorite French teacher was forced to leave the country when WWI commenced, Marlene had her first taste of war, her first taste of the prejudice it brings, and her first taste of poverty. Her single mother worked hard to keep her girls clothed and fed, but eating potatoes and turnips day after day was unbearable, though as a well-behaved child, Marlene knew never to complain, even when every one in town's skin started turning yellow from the forced diet. Marlene insisted that her skin alone maintained its glorious, porcelain glow-- already she was building a legend for herself. The lack of dairy products also led an older Marlene to believe that the continuous bone breaks she suffered were due to her poor childhood nourishment and lack of calcium. She would never forget these days: not for their want nor for her mother's courage in pulling them all through. Thankfully, Josefine was able to attract the attention of a new husband, another army officer, Lt. Eduard von Losch, who gave the new family firmer legs to stand on and plenty of money to survive. He would too die early, leaving Marlene fatherless yet again, but he did not leave his grieving widow destitute, thank heavens.

A young Marlene in her Weimar years.

As a teen, Marlene decided that she was going to be an artist: a musician. She studied music in Weimar, however, she suffered a tendon inflammation in her wrist that brought her dreams of playing the violin to an end. Her next idea was to become an actress. When she wasn't accepted at the Max Reinhardt Drama School, Josefine must have breathed a sigh of relief, but that wasn't going to stop her Leni. Unlike Liesel, Marlene liked attention. Despite her mother's protestations that she should be more ladylike and demure, Marlene could not deny that she enjoyed capturing male glances and dressing a bit more colorfully. Her ability to put clothes together came from her grandmother, who passed on her own talent for fashion composition. Living in a country that was bereft of the majority of its men only instigated Marlene further in her independence. Weimar women learned to fend for themselves: and Marlene was not going to give that up when the boys came home. She enjoyed engaging in romances with them, though. Her intense sexual passions were born early, and she honestly penned her attraction to both sexes in her diary. While she may have been nursing a crush on screen hero Henny Porten, it would be Rudolf Seiber aka "Rudi" who earned her love and loyalty. After doing some modeling, scoring some small roles in plays and silent films-- such as her debut, The Little Napoleon-- Marlene met her soul mate when auditioning for an extra job on Tragedy of Love. With so many beautiful girls in attendance, she nearly went unnoticed until Rudi caught a glimpse of her bright, green gloves. He cast her in the small role of Lucie, wherein she stole the show-- with her monocle an boa-- and Rudi's heart.


After the duo was married on May 17, 1923, Marlene quickly became pregnant with their first and only child. She took to mothering like a duck to water, and at first thought of giving up the stage to nurture her little Maria. This is symptomatic of much in Marlene's character-- there was always a divide between her natural sense of duty to the ideals of her mother and her own desires. Needless to say, the state of domestic bliss did not remain entrancing. Submission was never in the cards for Marlene, particularly to a man. Thus began one of the most unconventional families in Hollywood history. Marlene and Rudi's physical relationship came to an end, though they remained husband and wife until his dying day. Their mutual love and respect remained, they were best friends, but Marlene needed her freedom, and Rudi was forced to give it to her. While both enjoyed sexual relationships outside the marriage, with Rudi taking in his permanent mistress, dancer Tamara Matul, and Marlene accruing a great number of her own lovers, it seems that it was the absence of sex with each other that was the saving grace of their marriage. They were friends, business partners, and parents. Maria thus grew up with three parents, including Tami, and whatever random "Uncle" or "Aunt" Marlene brought around. While Marlene continued pursuing her career, taking roles on stage and in films-- most of which she would refuse to remember in her later years-- Rudi supported her decision and acted as a business advisor to her. Yet, it would be another man who would truly advance her career.

Marlene eclipses the man who won the first Academy Award for Best Actor, 

Emil Jannings, in the film that made her a star: The Blue Angel.

Josef von Sternberg was commissioned to make Germany's first talking picture in 1929, quite the compliment. The Jewish filmmaker from Vienna actually came to Berlin from the United States, where he had been working and building up experience from the editing room to finally the director's chair. While not initially ecstatic about being re-teamed with the ornery Emil Jannings for The Blue Angel-- having worked with him previously on his Academy Award winning performance in The Last Command-- Josef could not turn down this career coup. Finding the girl to portray the desirous and dangerous Lola Lola from the Heinrich Mann novel Professor Unrat (The End of a Tyrant) was another problem all together. With many actresses coming at him for the plum role, Josef was dissatisfied with all of them. Then he happened to catch a glimpse of Marlene on stage in "Two Bow Ties," ironically when sizing up co-star Hans Albers. He would indeed cast matinee idol Hans in the film, but it was a surprise when he called Marlene in for a screen test. She was so certain that she had no chance, due to the disinterest Josef had shown her in their past meeting, that she came to set unprepared and without costume. Her indifference and outright antipathy worked to her benefit, because Josef was completely fascinated with her. Her devious and sensual quality came through in her test wherein she sang, "You're the Cream in My Coffee." Her attitude, allure, and ability to speak fluent English (which was needed, as they would be filming two versions of the film for universal release), in addition to her legs, won her the coveted role. She became a sensation in Germany overnight, though the United States would not catch a glimpse of Lola Lola until after Marlene made her first American film. 

Marlene grabs America's attention, and Gary Cooper's, in Morocco.

The Paramount scouts came calling, after it became apparent that Marlene-- an unknown-- had stolen the film from the incomparable Emil Jannings. She and Josef were brought to Hollywood, and she was forced to temporarily leave Rudi and Maria behind. She was put to work on Morocco opposite Gary Cooper where she strolled on camera in a top and tails and sent shock waves through the nation. Audiences loved it: her beauty, her ambivalence, her modernity. Women started wearing trousers and copying Marlene's in-control swagger. The English version of The Blue Angel soon debuted in the US, and shortly thereafter the German version was re-released to rave reviews. Marlene was a star, and a star of her own variety. At first, she was pegged as the German answer to Greta Garbo. No, no. She was "Dietrich," and there was no other. Morocco would earn her her first and only Oscar nomination, and she would continue teaming with Josef von Sternberg on the films that would establish her early Hollywood identity. Josef was hard on her, demanding, insulting, tyrannical, but-- at least at first-- Marlene did not argue or stand up to him. She could not deny the results. She studied the way she was lighted and perfected her makeup to give her the soft and ethereal beauty that wonderfully contrasted the morally questionable characters she portrayed. She was both beauty and the beast; unable to be trusted but unable to be resisted. Androgynous, mysterious, warm, yet detached. From Morocco to Blonde Venus, to The Shanghai Express, to The Devil is a Woman... while Josef's films were often lacking in interesting plot, they were rich in scenery. His mise en scene, frame compositions, and the beauty with which he filmed his favorite actress made his movies aphrodisiacs to a hungry, salivating public. They too made Marlene Dietrich a star.


However, in time, Marlene outgrew Josef and his controlling tantrums. She had learned all she needed to know and could control her image without him. Josef returned mistakenly to Europe, and Marlene remained in America. However, despite her savvy business sense, she had sticky fingers, and often spent money she didn't have on herself and family, basically becoming the breadwinner after Rudi, Tami, and Maria joined her in the U.S. This forced her hand, and she had to accept less than stellar roles in films that weakened her appeal and reputation. Yet, she stuck with it, even after she was labeled box-office poison. The faith of Joe Pasternak brought her back to the limelight in Destry Rides Again, and she reached the closest she would come to acting genius when friend Billy Wilder cast her in Witness for the Prosecution. Through it all, whether her films were flops or not, she maintained audience loyalty, and her public appearances brought out crowds in droves. Her bed was never cold either, and her list of lovers allegedly included everyone from Douglas Fairbanks, Jr, John Wayne, Mercedes de Acosta, Jimmy Stewart, and Jean Gabin-- the only man who came close to stealing her from Rudi. To her lovers and friends, she was part vixen and part mother hen, cooking her mother's favorite recipes for those she took a liking to and making her special soup for anyone who seemed ill. She too had a knack for re-arranging closets. Her crews loved her, for despite her growing fame and her need to control her own lighting and wardrobe, she was friendly and accommodating. She was a pro who came to set knowing her lines and ready to work with the team. When she felt one of her co-stars or someone on crew was being mistreated, she would simply walk off until things were set right.

Marlene entertains the boys during WWII. She considered it one of the most 

enriching and important acts of her life.

This heroic part of her nature is her most compelling feature. Though her acting is something to behold-- at times brilliant, at times hammily overdone-- it is not her film work so much as her persona that makes her a lasting fascination. Marlene time and again lent her strength to those in need, to those weaker than herself, or to those who did not possess her same go-get-it attitude. While men like Ernest Hemingway and Noel Coward were drawn to her beauty and intellect, they were enveloped by her warmth, which was far-reaching. She made a direct point to try to save the life of John Gilbert after his career had plummeted, and in addition to being a guiding force that reunited him with his daughter, a grateful Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, she too took him out in public and tried to get him working again. It was a valiant effort sadly failed. She would mourn his passing deeply but remained a caring mother figure to Leatrice. Most noteworthy are her efforts during the war. Marlene was vocal from the beginning that her home country was being enveloped by madness, and she forsook her homeland to become a grateful American citizen. She pressured America to get invested in WWII before anyone would admit such horrors could touch us, and after we did, she became one of the soldiers' favorite entertainers. She would generally enter on stage by slipping one of her famous legs through the curtain, then use her musical talents to sing a wartime favorite, such as "Lili Marleen," or play the musical saw. She went uncomplainingly without her usual glamour to bring peace to men fighting a battle she found all too familiar to that of her youth. When she traveled in a one woman show in her later years, many of these boys returned to see her back stage and thank her for what she had done.

Marlene stuns Tyrone Power with her stems in Witness for the Prosecution.

Whatever personal pains or torments Marlene possessed, she always kept hidden behind her exquisite mask of professionalism and personality. As she aged, the softness of her beauty gave way to a hardened look-- the result of pulling her skin back beneath her wig-- that turned her into somewhat of a caricature of her former self, yet a still beloved one. After scoring in Stage Fright, A Foreign Affair, and Judgment at Nuremberg-- for which she had to give the painful "we did not know" speech that she did not agree with-- Marlene slowly faded from the silver screen. She embraced the stage of her youth, touring with Burt Bacharach or playing to packed houses in Las Vegas. However, despite the fact that she defied her own age, she could not escape it. Repeated falls and broken bones, which she always ignored in order to continue the show, caught up with her. A dependence on pain pills and alcohol too took their toll. After her husband Rudi died, Marlene became further despondent, especially as her always loving but complicated relationship with her daughter suffered. She ended her days alone, hiding from the world, and bedridden, too ashamed to show the world that the beauty they had so long counted on had faded. Friends like Billy Wilder or Doug Fairbanks, Jr. would try to call and cheer her only to be met with a fake French accent insisting that she wasn't there. Marlene had always insisted that she would die young. She would live to be 90, passing away on May 6, 1992. She wanted to be buried in her beloved Paris and, always conscientious, wanted to be placed in a cemetery next to a nice restaurant, so her visitors would have somewhere to eat. She was instead sent home to lie near her mother Josefine in Berlin. Her homecoming was warmly welcomed by locals, some of whom during the war years had shunned her and had even spat at her when she returned post WWII to perform. Time had healed those wounds; she re-emerged as an international hero. After spending a life away from her native soil, Marlene was finally home.

Quintessential Dietrich: taken while filming Seven Sinners.

Marlene's last screen appearance was in Just a Gigolo, an error in judgement perhaps, but a necessary one considering the spending habits that had left her a bit destitute. She demanded to appear with a veil covering her face to mute her age. She was reluctant, nervous about appearing on camera in less than her usual top form. Members of the crew were surprised at first to see the frail, 75-year-old woman exiting her dressing room-- they had spent their lives worshipping a much more vibrant Marlene on the screen. But, as always, she did not disappoint. After taking one look at herself in a full length mirror, Dietrich emerged. Her confidence and poise in tact, she went to set and belted her heart out one last time for the cameras, leaving not a dry eye in the male-packed house. That was Marlene, and that is the Marlene we still see. She refused to ever disappoint her audiences, but doing so required her to forever meld with the image of a tempting, unattainable siren. Never a great "actress," she still leaves us in awe. Never a great singer, she still lures us to dangerous yet inviting waters. Josefine once called her, "my little soldier." So she was. So she remains.

HISTORY LESSON: Lulu vs. Lola Lola

Some moments in the universe of celluloid are so impacting that it seems impossible for history to have been otherwise. When it comes to Filmdom, the importance of casting, the magical coming together of director and script, and the synchronicity or serendipity of different events that lead to a masterpiece make it impossible in retrospect to see a finished project any other way. Still, it is interesting to sometimes question, "What would have happened if...?" What if a different director had gotten a hold of this? What if this guy were cast instead of that guy? Would it remain a classic??? Likewise, it is equally entertaining to wonder what would have happened if a failed project had only been entrusted to a different pair of hands, though this train of thought is ventured on less often-- a dead dud is often just left thus.

An interesting twist of fate in cinematic history involved not just one woman, but two: Star of the Month Louise Brooks and German film siren Marlene Dietrich. Their futures would be indelibly shaped around their involvement with the film Pandora's Box. This film, which would come to define Louise's career, almost went to Ms. Dietrich, and the role that skyrocketed Marlene to stardom--The Blue Angel-- very nearly went to Ms. Brooks. Had the original casting gone ahead as planned, the careers of both women may have been very different, and thus a large part of cinematic history would have been altered.

Marlene craved the role of Pandora's Lulu, but director G.W. Pabst was adamantly against it. Rumor has it that she was in his office, ready to sign a contract, at the very moment that the ever mercurial Louise cabled to accept the part. Marlene was fuming, as was the rest of Germany, when they learned that an American would be playing the legendary heroine from Benjamin Franklin Wedekind's smash play. The quest for Lulu in Berlin was equivalent to the later search for Scarlett O'Hara in Hollywood. It would be a long time before the world, Louise and Marlene included, discovered the brilliance of the casting and the beauty of the finished film. 

Why did Pabst turn down Marlene, the toast of Deutschland, for the incomparable German role??? He thought she was too old (about 28 when production started, whereas Louise was 23) and too... Marlene. In her film work, Marlene was never just some girl, never the average woman. She was always a character within a character-- Dietrich in lambs clothing... Or rather man's clothing. Louise (above) was not a caricature of herself-- she was a woman comfortable in her own skin, daring without trying. She was unconsciously sexy and threatening in her lack of awareness . Marlene on the other hand, was a beautifully perfected contrivance-- hypnotic but inauthentic. She cared too much about her persona, therefore she could not have been the relaxed and effortless vixen Pabst needed for the role.

Ironically, after Pabst finished on Pandora, he was looking for his next project, which he hoped would be a film based upon the Heinrich Mann novel, Professor Unrat, starring his new leading lady Louise as the sultry Lola Lola. Instead, he lost the film rights to another director, Josef von Sternberg, who entitled the film The Blue Angel and cast his own favorite actress, Marlene Dietrich (below). In a very small world, the world of Movieland is even smaller. *(If you haven't seen this film, do. Because this was von Sternberg's first sound film, it is an important moment in the history of cinema. But, with sound being a new phenomenon, each scene was shot twice, once in German and once in English, so it could be sold to the American market. For the love of all that is decent and holy, see the German version and not the English- one is flawless, the other clumsy. Even von Sternberg's sumptuous decor and attention to detail in the mise en scene cannot save the mumbled stutters of actors trying to speak a language not their own)!
 

Though Marlene certainly enjoyed this new victory, which would be groundbreaking for her career, Louise was probably completely unaware that Angel was even a prospect for her. Again, it was all meant to be, for Louise would have made a poor Lola Lola. The same things that made Marlene a lackluster candidate for the liberated, yet ultimately doomed victim Lulu, made her the perfect, ruthless heart-breaker of Von Sternberg's film. Lulu wrapped men around her finger as an afterthought or at best as an entertaining means to an end. Lola Lola is a calculating maneater-- searching and destroying purely for sport. There is a violence and immediacy to her intelligent manipulation of the opposite sex. She possesses complete control and never plays the victim.

As a result of these two destined casting decisions, the women would be forever tied to their respective directors: Louise would become the muse of G.W. Pabst, and Marlene would be a disciple of Josef von Sternberg. The careers of both women would be shaped by these men, though the end products would be very different. Marlene wanted to be molded into an icon. She craved stardom and the power brought by her false persona, which she gladly adopted and melded with. Louise, conversely, did not understand celebrity and feared this same power, which she subsequently shunned out of skepticism. As a result, Marlene's star continued to rise while Louise's burned out. Both are considered legends today, but it would take time for Louise to regain that status. Had she not starred in Pandora, she may not have reclaimed her throne at all. Marlene never let her crown leave her head for a second.

In another twist of fate, the two unwitting nemeses finally crossed paths. Not long after filming on Pandora and Angel ended, Louise was at a charity event with David and Irene Selznick. She wandered around the mock casino, eventually finding herself in an empty room. Well, almost empty. There in all her pretty, blonde glory was Marlene, who-- to Louise's utter surprise-- offered a very friendly, "Hello." There was no confrontation or clash of egos. What the two women talked about during that time, will remain a secret known only to the two of them. Doubtless, the acknowledged bisexual, Marlene, tested the waters to see just how "open" the equally mysterious and androgynous Louise was. (It turns out Marlene was a little more freewheeling, and no physical relationship was consummated. If one had, certainly both unabashed women would have talked about it).  

 
In the end, they both seemed to have a mutual respect for each other. They actually had a lot in common-- save for the fact that Marlene was often cited as the hardest working woman in showbiz and Louise the laziest. Marlene admired the strong and intriguing young girl who had stolen the role of a lifetime and made it her own; Louise was fascinated by the ferocious energy and sexuality that Marlene was able to put into Lola-- though she would later write an article about Marlene and how the fresh young girl of Der Blaue Engel had disappeared after Marlene had become Hollywood-ized. Louise saw Marlene's career decisions as personal suicide, but in her own eyes, Marlene was a success. She had come to America as another Garbo-like import, only to create her own eternal identity. Her fame was a choice she embraced. Louise fled hers. Both were proud women: one proud of her work, and one proud of the work no one could make her do. For one brief moment, their artistic destinies intertwined. The rest, as they say, is history.