HISTORY LESSON: Who-dunnit, Hollywood?

Charlie Chaplin and Marion Davies: did their affair

lead to murder???

Part of Hollywood's allure is its mystique: a foreign land of sunlight, palm trees, and skies that seem to rain money on people that are just plain prettier than the rest of us. However, this city, when it doesn't have its make-up on, can be downright ugly. The harder someone works to look perfect, the more certain you can be that he or she is covering something up-- perhaps even something hideous. The dark side of La La Land is far from glamorous, and enough disturbing, tragic events have taken place to create the contradictory, evasive, and hypocritical image of both Heaven and Hell that many equate with the city today. Strangely, the world's audience seems to find the macabre stories more fascinating and hypnotic than the triumphant or pure. And so, we remain tantalized by tales of Sharon Tate, Elizabeth Short, Paul Bern, Thelma Todd, and George Reeves, keeping in check a city that protests too much its perfection-- we are no longer fooled. Here are a handful of similarly fascinating Hollywood tales, unsolved mysteries, and questionable alibis. The trouble with the following is that we may never know what truly happened in any of these cases, but then again, a solved murder is much less intriguing than the average open book.

What really happened to Thomas Ince (left)? The theories abound and none of the facts add up. What we know for sure is that Ince-- acclaimed director and producer who made up one third of the Triangle Film Corp. triumvirate and made Westerns in Inceville-- joined a group on William Randolph Hearst's yacht, the Onieda, when it took to sea in celebration of his 43rd birthday on Nov. 16, 1924. Thomas would never set foot back on shore, for when the party docked in San Diego on the 19th, he was carried inland and died mere hours later. The cast of this plot alternately may or may not include: Marion Davies (Hearst's mistress), Elinor Glyn, Margaret Livingston (Ince's alleged mistress), aspiring columnist Louella Parsons, Seena Owen, Aileen Pringle, Julanne Johnston, Theodore Kosloff, Hearst's secretary Joseph Willicombe, publisher Frank Barham and wife, Marion's sisters Ethel and Reine and niece Pepi, Dr. Daniel Carson Goodman, Mary Urban, and Gretl Urban. During the night, Ince was overheard groaning in his bedroom. The fortunately present Dr. Goodman was summoned and diagnosed Thomas as suffering a heart attack brought on by indigestion or ptomaine poisoning. The ship docked on the 19th, Ince was attended to, and to keep matters from the press, Hearst urged everyone to keep mum-- most particularly, one presumes, to keep his affair with Marion under wraps (not to mention the heavy imbibing that had occurred during this prohibition era party). After all, leaking their rendezvous would only serve to inflame current gossip, embarrass his wife, Millicent Wilson, and hurt the career that he was trying to build for his kooky but beloved girlfriend, Marion. Unfortunately for Hearst, Ince died, and the press wanted details. The nervous Doctor Goodman is generally blamed for fearfully blabbing a series of contradictory facts in order to obey Hearst's orders, thus starting the alleged theory that all was not as it seemed. All aboard maintained that the death was an unfortunate twist of fate, and Marion maintained to her deathbed that nothing sinister was afoot. 

Yet, this is difficult to be believed.  This is where Charlie Chaplin comes into play, who was also allegedly in attendance on the Onieda, though he always denied this later. It had been rumored for some time that he and Comedy Queen Marion were enjoying a tryst of their own, and that Hearst was becoming incredibly jealous. When you add this to the conflicting stories about what exactly occurred, the alibis get dicey. The most shocking bit of evidence came from Charlie's own loyal chauffeur, Kono, who stated that he not only picked Charlie up from the travel's end but witnessed Ince being pulled ashore with an apparent bullet-wound in his head, a fact which he confided to Eleanor Boarman. Curious... Marion maintained there was no gun on board, but Hearst was known to shoot pelicans for sport on the ship. The now popular theory is that Hearst, in a jealous rage over his suspicions that Marion Davies and Charlie were having an affair, shot at Chaplin, only to discover that he had accidentally shot Ince instead, who in certain lighting looked a great deal like Charlie. (This a scenario brilliantly brought to life in Peter Bogdanovich's The Cat's Meow). Other theories are that Hearst poisoned Ince, stabbed him with Marion's hatpin, or even hired an assassin to kill him, though with no pure motive, these latter conspiracy theories don't add up, unless Marion was getting too cozy with Ince as well. To cover up the scandal, many believe that Hearst threw money at everyone present to hush them up-- including giving Louella Parsons her lifetime gig with the Hearst corporation-- and printed his own creative narrative of the events in his papers, like the little ditty that Ince had taken ill at his ranch and not at sea. As Hearst all but controlled the press, it was not a hard feat to keep things quiet, yet Ince's quick cremation and burial on Nov. 21st only bolstered suspicions. So, was Kono mistaken? Was the blood he saw actually from a "perforated ulcer?" It is hard to believe that Kono, so loyal to his boss, would tell such a lie nor one so outlandish. And if Ince wasn't shot or somehow pummeled on the head, why would Hearst go to such lengths to cover up his death? Was it some other, even more unbelievable accident, or was it murder? Everyone involved kept deathly silent, and now the truth is lying six feet under. (Right, the nemeses at happier times at one of Hearst's costume balls: Doug Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Hearst, Charlie, and Millicent Hearst (?)).

One of Charlie's old Keystone chums also ran into her share of scandals. Good-time girl Mabel Normand (left) made a career out of hamming it up alongside fiance Mack Sennett, becoming the first major cinematic comedienne. She held her own against the comic giants of the day, eventually directing her own films and becoming a huge star in the process. The fact that she twisted her beautiful features into hilarious mugs made her seem less pretentious and more down-to-earth than the average starlet, and as she earned the public's chuckles she too stole their hearts. Ironically, Mabel's heart was ever in trouble. Not only did she fail to marry her soul mate, Mack, but she wound up in a loveless, gag marriage to Lew Cody, and was also falsely implicated in the murder of her good friend William Desmond Taylor. When it came to luck, Mabel must have spent it all in her first 25 years. The demise of her relationship with Mack is one of the remaining mysteries about her. We know that the powerful duo broke it off. We too know that Mabel appeared afterward with a nasty head wound. Where exactly it came from remains a matter of great debate. One theory is that Mabel walked in on Mack in flagrante with her supposed friend Mae Busch, who-- after Mabel became understandably hysterical-- smashed a vase over her head. 

Minta Durfee, Mrs. Fatty Arbuckle, would recall that she and her husband were either a) summoned to Mabel's home by a mutual friend who revealed the disconcerted Mabel and her nasty head-wound, or b) Mabel showed up at their doorstep in the same fashion. Fatty rushed Mabel to the hospital where a threatening blood clot was found and instantly corrected through a dangerous operation. Yet, another theory is that Mabel was so heartbroken by her break-up with Mack-- who may or may not have been a philanderer-- that she took one of her famous swan dives from the Santa Monica Pier in the attempt to kill herself. To complicate things further, Adela Rogers St. Johns attested that Mabel attempted this suicide only after her initial head-injury and hospital release, making both versions true. Whatever the case, the story Sennett (right) gave the press was that Mabel had injured herself while doing a stunt with Fatty, who allegedly, accidentally sat on her head-- a bit of foreshadowing to the Virginia Rappe rape scandal, where again Fatty's girth would be used as a scapegoat (this guy couldn't catch a break). Sennett also claimed that Mabel faked her "illness" to get back at him for going after Busch, a ploy that worked after he complacently set her up in her own studio and gave her the role of a lifetime in Mickey. Arguments against Mae Busch's guilt in the incident have too been made, as she and Mabel were pretty good pals. Whatever the true situation, Mabel was never the same. Some would protest that in addition to her heartbreak, a switch in her mind took place that made her more erratic and disjointed. So, what really broke Sennett and Mabel up? Was it the same thing that broke her head?

By 1958, Lana Turner (left) was no longer the Queen of MGM. As an aging actress, her career was winding down almost as quickly as she had risen to the top. This prior rise to fame in itself is the stuff of legend. After she was allegedly plucked off a stool at Schwab's Pharmacy (really the Top Hat) while drinking a milkshake (coca-cola), Lana shot to fame for her ability to fill out a sweater with great... panache in They Won't Forget. Lynn Fontanne she was not, but Lana still had an edge to her that made her a bit naughty, a bit dangerous, and all gorgeous, which allowed her to maintain a lengthy career before the cameras. In her time, she was linked to all kinds of handsome leading men, from Tyrone Power, to Artie Shaw, to Clark Gable, but it was her marriage to Johnny Stompanato aka Johnny Valentine that would become the most notorious. Johnny too had an edge of danger, but his was much more threatening than Lana's more sensual allure. In fact, it was deadly, but this had come in handy back when he was a bodyguard for none other than Mickey Cohen. The thrice divorced Johnny's charms and seduction won the rebellious Lana over, though as their relationship became abusive, their passion for each other perpetuated an on-again, off-again tragedy-- both violent and deluded. Caught in the fray was Lana's daughter with Steve Crane: Cheryl. Cheryl bore witness to more than one unruly spat that grew horrifyingly physical. At fourteen-years-old, this was hardly the happy home that the teenaged girl needed to endow her with confidence and positivity to face the world. 

On the evening of April 4th, ironically Good Friday, the police were summoned to Lana's home on the infamously catastrophic Bedford Drive. Johnny had been stabbed to death! Cheryl and Lana would claim that Cheryl had overheard another frightening spat between her mother and her lover, during which Johnny had threatened to essentially cut both women to ribbons. Terrified, Cheryl had run to the kitchen to obtain a weapon to protect her mother. She raced back to Lana's bedroom door, and before she even knew what she was doing, she was startled by Johnny's exit. She stabbed him, and he fell backward into the shocked Lana's room. Lana would tearfully tell this same story before a judge, a moment that many would mockingly refer to as "the performance of her career." Cheryl has forever maintained her version of the story, but many have hypothesized that it was in fact Lana who killed her lover. To save herself and her career, it is thus suggested that Lana begged Cheryl to step up to the plate and take the blame. Did she? In the end, most of us take Cheryl's word for it, but was she protecting her mother's life on that fateful day, or did she tell a fib to protect her mother's livelihood forever after??? If the latter is true, the ploy worked. Lana shot back to fame with the dual success of Peyton Place and Imitation of Life. Buh-bye, Johnny. (Lana, Johnny, and Cheryl, right).

The name Jean Spangler (left) doesn't ring too many bells today. A wannabe actress, the svelte brunette had come to Hollywood chasing the dreams of so many others. And, like so many others, she too often used the wrong avenues to get where she wanted to go. Vulnerability and naivete never serve a woman well... By the age of twenty-seven, Jean had already been a dancer at the Florentine Gardens and a girlfriend of, again, Mickey Cohen. Still, her fortitude was able to land her some bit parts in films for Harry Cohn at Columbia, such as The Petty Girl, but she never made it as a top leading lady. This, of course, may have had something to do with the fact that she literally disappeared on October 7, 1949.  Earlier that day, Jean had confided that she was going to be "out late" shooting a movie. After over 24 hours of absence, her sister Sophie filed a missing person's report, and the hunt for Jean began, though efforts by LAPD were half-hearted at best-- they didn't even send the report out on the teletype. On the 9th, a groundskeeper at Griffith Park found her purse, which had been torn. Clearly a struggle had ensued, but no robbery had taken place, as the purse's contents remained in tact-- including an undelivered note to her current boyfriend, "Kirk" (allegedly Kirk Douglas), in which it is heavily implied that she would soon be proceeding with an abortion from a "Dr. Scott." Ooh, the plot thickens...

Needless to say, Jean's family, particularly her mother, were distraught and certain that foul play had ended in murder. Kirk (right), who was married to Diana Douglas at the time, and his lawyer maintained that he didn't even know "the girl," yet her mother maintained that he had picked her up from her apartment at least twice. Other eye-witnesses claimed to have seen them at a party together, and Jean's friends attested to the fact that Jean was indeed three months pregnant. Throwing speculation is his direction even more is the fact that he contacted the police to tell them that he was not the "Kirk" in the note before the contents of this note had been made known to him, nor the connection made by police to the defensive star. Kirk would later backtrack and admit that he may have taken Jean on a couple of dates. Radio man Al "The Sheik" Lazaar also claimed that he saw Jean the night she disappeared at The Cheese Box on Sunset, where she was sandwiched between two unrecognizable men. The trio were said to be arguing. This was the last time that she was seen alive. What happened is still unknown, and her body has not been found. There are two major theories as to what may have befallen the young beauty: a) the infamous Dr. Scott had botched Jean's abortion, she had died on his table, and her body was disposed of, perhaps even in Griffith Park or b) Mickey Cohen had her maliciously "taken out" when he became jealous over the news of her affair with Kirk Douglas. Aside from the possible baby, Kirk was in no way implicated in her disappearance. Certainly, he must have learned his lesson regarding what a seemingly harmless night of passion can turn into. This didn't keep him from being at least partially blamed, and the normally stony Cohn actually had him barred from his studio when Kirk came to pay a visit to Evelyn Keyes not long after the incident. While his conscience may be clear of her death, someone is guilty. But just who-dunnit, we may never know.

MENTAL MONTAGE: Rollin' in the Dough

Ginger Rogers, head to toe in gold, in Gold Diggers of 1933.

Movie Stars and Money. Moolah. Bread. Gravy. Greenback... Whatever you want to call it, it always seems like celebrities have it. And lots of it. While many of us have to count every penny before going on an edited shopping spree to the ever glorious Target (Tar-jay to the upper crust), the exorbitant expenditures of modern entertainers with their private jets, sprawling mansions, and golf-ball sized engagement rings makes one both a) fiscally insulted and b) green (as cash) with envy. But whatever new car Diddy's rolling in or whatever designer gown is draped over the elegant Ms. Kidman at the latest awards show, today's divas have nothing on silent film spenders. Even in those early days, it was all about the Benjamins. Moreso, it wasn't the size of the bank account, but how one used it to advertise his or her own fame and stature. The early flood of cha-cha-ching and the resulting birth of American royalty created the still present trend of glorious, outrageous, unapologetic, economic narcissism. Here are a few of the earliest examples:

Cecil B. directs yet another lavish scene in Cleopatra- 

(Claudette Colbert stands center stage).

It should come as no surprise that Cecil B. DeMille be counted as one of the Kings of Coin. His films themselves were so lavishly produced and luscious to the eyes that one can only imagine the coronary Adolph Zukor must have had each time he looked at a budget estimate. In fact, despite the money that CB's movies earned at the box-office, most of them were still considered failures because they couldn't recoup the production costs. But with an eye for detail and an unwavering loyalty to (exaggerated) authenticity, DeMille spared no expense when it came to his films. He wanted what he wanted, believing that his audiences deserved the best, and that is what he gave them. In The Affairs of Anatol, for example, Wallace Reid had the distinct pleasure of filming a scene wherein he got to destroy $30,000 worth of furniture, including original Louis XVI chairs and a grand piano. CB wouldn't accept cheap props; it had to be the real deal. He also added strange, costly mandates to his productions. Anne Baxter would recall that Cecil had all of her necklaces specially "heated" before they were placed on her skin during The Ten Commandments (left). This was not a stipulation she required, but one that Cecil saw to on her behalf-- he wanted her treated like a Queen since she was playing one. Between Gloria Swanson's submergence into an expensive tub in Male and Female and Claudette Colbert's illustrious milk bath in The Sign of the Cross, CB too started a craze for opulent bathrooms. However, his own house guests were often disappointed to find that his private bathroom was rather plain.

Anne Baxter in one of her temperature controlled necklaces 

in The Ten Commandments.

But CB was not always modest in his private life. Granted, he was not as extravagant off screen as he was on, preferring to spend his down time at his vacation home, Paradise, where he could hike and feed the animals. But he did have a few flashy quirks to show off just how wealthy a man he really was. For example, male guests to Paradise would be offered color-coded silk shirts-- red for a regular Joe, white for producers, and purple for directors, corporate big-wigs, or government officials. The gents also received Gold or silver chains to spice up their look. CB also enjoyed splurging on jewelry, offering women whom he was pleased with in some way a choice of his own private collection of gems. In addition, female guests were given Cecil B. DeMille's own concoction of "Paradise" perfume. For all this, Cecil still lived fairly simple compared to some of his contemporaries. Sure he had a yacht and several real estate investments around town, but his monetary swagger was tactical more than anything else. While it could be said that he enjoyed spreading the wealth and bringing a little beauty into life, he committed grand financial acts more to stake his claim as one of Hollywood's major hitters, so people would know who was boss. It worked, for "DeMille" and "Decadent" remain pretty much synonymous.

But Cecil wasn't the only power player with cash to burn-- literally. With money comes power and thus the ability to pay for pretty much whatever you want. It naturally followed that certain celebrities were able to produce custom made products or add their own special innovations on different every day merchandise. The tiniest thing would require some specific attention in order to differentiate one's belongings from every one else's. Thus, star vanity even lead to the creation of custom made cigarettes. For his part, ill-fated director William Desmond Taylor smoked only his personally designed black cigarettes with golden tips-- that's genuine gold, folks. Actor and Mr. Muscles himself, Francis X. Bushman (right), also insisted on creating his own stock of lavender colored ciggies.

Bushman let this innovation follow him over into the realm of automobiles. When driving around town in his fancy Rolls Royce, also lavender, it wasn't enough for people to merely notice his expensive wheels. He wanted them to know that it was he who was behind the wheel. Thus, he had a special light affixed into the interior, so that at night, a bright aura would shine over his face and people would know that the famous star of Ben-Hur had just sped by. Cowboy star Tom Mix (left) followed suit. For his car, he specified that the tires be produced with his own personal "crest," which was essentially the compilation of a "T" and an "M." When his car rolled down the then dirt roads of Hollywood, his insignia could be seen in the tracks. He basically left his initials all over town, an effective way of saying "Tom  Mix was here, yeehaw!!!" Gloria Swanson too had a dream car. In fact, her earliest ambition as an actress, or as anything, was to be able to afford a heretofore unseen orchid-colored automobile. People told her she was crazy and that such a thing didn't even exist. But once she became the grande dame of silent cinema, she got her fantasy car-- and then some!

The Tom Mix Bar Brand, also present on his tires.

Or course, in these days, many celebrities were chauffeured around town in their glamorous automobiles. After all, in the caste/cash system, a higher echelon personality was going to make his or her status known. Thus, wealthy vixens like Pola Negri provided extra jobs to various servants who would accentuate their prestige. Pola (right) had a chauffeur who drove her everywhere in her white, velvet upholstered Rolls, but there was an added stipulation: he was to wear white on sunny days and black on rainy days. She too had servants who were in charge of cascading rose petals into her path so that her precious feet-- adorned with toe nail polish, which was not yet popularly worn-- would never be sullied by making direct contact with the floor. Just to add a little more oomph, she too paraded around town with her pet tiger, who often accompanied her on jaunts down Sunset Boulevard. Why, who knows? She did it simply because she could, and Pola was a definitely a drama queen on and off camera.


But perhaps the most well known example of Hollywood grandeur is that of Pickfair. The fairy tale wedding of the swashbuckling hero Douglas Fairbanks to the Golden Goddess of the Screen Mary Pickford captured the attention and affection of the American people when they were united on March 28, 1920-- despite the fact that they had essentially ditched their other spouses to make such a dream come true. It didn't matter. To the general public, they had escaped unhappy lives to reach the unbelievable culmination of true love, fame, and fortune. Of course, in order to rule on high in their fantastical splendor, they needed a Kingdom, which they dubbed "Pickfair." Situated in the hills on Summit Drive above Benedict Canyon, Mary and Doug lived in what appeared to be an oversized cottage. Its ornamentation wasn't overly glamorous, but its amenities were: a seashell shaped swimming pool, big enough to fit a canoe and complete with a slide, a tennis court, and stables. Their life together at this mansion on a hill was the ultimate American Dream. Of course, one must always wake from even the best of dreams, but while Mary and Doug's marriage may have hit the skids, the memory of their plush palace remains forever entrenched in our memories.

Doug and Mary take a row in their oyster pool.

These early celebrities didn't live in a world of "what could have been," they created worlds that were. Worlds that were as outlandish, flamboyant, unrestrained, and yet impossibly possible. When America entered into the economic crisis of the Great Depression and the film world was engulfed but the crisis of the new talkie era, the fawning awe of celebrity expenditure would give way to the public's love/hate relationship with their stars. No more would we find it completely palatable for these cinematic souls to throw cash around so nonchalantly; we would let them get away with it only if they seemed like one of us-- coming up the hard way. But, for a brief moment in time, we adored our movie stars for being larger than life, or perhaps even larger than larger than life. While their splendor may make one wrinkle his nose or perhaps erupt only in a cynical guffaw today, at the time, it was all in day's work. At least, in Hollywood...

BITS OF COINCIDENCE: Part Two

Time for more random encounters! Hope you find these entertaining ;)

When Louise Brooks and her new husband, director Eddie Sutherland (above), finally made the move from New York to Los Angeles, they were looking for a bungalow to call their own. While out house-hunting, they found an apartment that seemed to be a good fit. However, they got a shock when they knocked on the landlady's door: it was Mary Miles Minter (below), the reclusive actress who had gone into hiding, and slightly mad, after the scandalous death of William Desmond Taylor! How the mighty had fallen... Though Mary seemed harmless, albeit a bit loopy, Louise and Eddie decided to look elsewhere, settling down in the luxurious Laurel Canyon near soon-to-be pals John Gilbert and King Vidor.

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Clara Bow was a huge success when she began filming on The Plastic Age. The entire American population seemed to have fallen in love with her, as well as her co-star, Gilbert Roland, with whom she would have an on-again-off-again affair for years to come. Though Clara was the current talk of the town, there was a man destined to be an equally huge star lingering in the crowd of extras. Knowing Clara's eye for attractive men, it is quite possible she noticed the young and handsome Clark Gable, but the two never had any kind of relationship. The same could not be said of Gary Cooper, who later had a bit part as a reporter in It and the male lead opposite her in Children of Divorce. These two became lovers, and Clara didn't mince words when describing just how "huge" a  star Coop really was!

 

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Wallace Reid (above with pal Adela Rogers St. Johns) was slowly making his name in the business when he made the film The Ways of Fate in 1913. People had begun to take notice of the handsome leading man, but it would be another two years-- after he took his shirt off in Birth of a Nation-- that his star really began to rise! However, with his good looks and charm, he seemed to be a shoe-in for success, unlike the quiet, character actor who was milling about the Fate set as an extra. It would take another six years before Lon Chaney (below) crawled to fame as the contorting, "crippled" con-man, Frog, in The Miracle Man. After this show of gut-wrenching acrobatics, the entire world would know his face, or rather faces. All 1000 of them!

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When Vivien Leigh (right) was attending the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Roehampton, England, she was already certain of her future. She knew that she wanted to be an actress, and she had no qualms about telling pretty much every one within ear shot that she was going to be a star! Imagine her surprise when, as a struggling actress, it was one of her old classmates who made it to the big screen first: Maureen O'Sullivan (below with Johnny Weissmuller)! After seeing Maureen in Tarzan the Ape Man of 1932, Vivien was more determined than ever to make it! She used her friend's success to re-light the fire in her own belly. She worked hard and tread the boards of the stage before making an on-screen debut in 1935's Look Up and Laugh. She would have to wait another 4 years for the role of a lifetime in Gone with the Wind.

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The Baby: Jean Harlow

Most stage mothers push their children into the business to fulfill their own desires to be famous. Such was the case with Jean Harlow's mother: Jean Harlow! The younger Jean's given name was actually Harlean. She took her mother's name as her stage name when she began acting. (I wonder whose idea that was)? In 1923, Mama Jean and Baby Jean would move from Kansas City to Hollywood so that the senior lady could pursue a career on the silver screen. However, because Mama lacked the charisma later found in her daughter, they only remained for two years before packing it in and returning to Missouri. During her first brief stint in H-town, Baby Jean would attend The Hollywood School for Girls where she would befriend its only two male students: Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Joel McCrea (below, respectively). In a few years time, these three tykes would be reunited, but this time as major Hollywood superstars!!!

Who will be star-crossed next? Stay tuned. Happy weekend!!!

IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF: Book Review

Gary Cooper on the set of Farewell to Arms

I spend a great deal of my time reading. A very, VERY great deal. Most weeks when I come to the computer, the topics I discuss are a result of deductions I have made from different source materials. The more I read, and the more films I watch, the more I am able to pull together a thorough analysis of a given individual or situation. When I see a person surrounded by the layers of context they survived within, it makes him or her much easier to understand and flesh out. 

I have been impressed by many biographies or novels of historical analysis, and nonplussed by a handful as well, but there are a few that stand out in my mind as particular favorites. This week, instead of drawing personal conclusions based on what I've read, I shall introduce the materials themselves! Here are the books that currently fill my "Top Three Faves" slots:

1) A Cast of Killers by Sidney D. Kirkpatrick: This book is amazing!!! I stumbled upon it at the Los Angeles Library when looking into the William Desmond Taylor murder. Curious about the unsolved case, I decided to investigate and was thrilled to find that a book existed told from the perspective of acclaimed Director, King Vidor. This book reads like a crime novel, with Vidor standing in as Sherlock Holmes. It passes like fiction, but is non-fiction, based totally upon the diaries and findings of the director himself as he plunged headfirst into the life and death of his dearly departed friend. Kirkpatrick weaves together the facts of the Desmond case along with Vidor's personal investigation of it. Along the way, you get to know Vidor himself, including the romantic and enduring friendship he shared with business partner and former flapper, Colleen Moore. Light is shed on the effect the case had on Mabel Normand, Mary Miles Minter, and all of Hollywood, and recorded interviews with the people who were there give you a first-hand look at the death that knocked the film world off its Olympian pedestal. I won't give away the ending to those who wish to experience it for themselves, but for a spoiler and a recounting of the case as exposed by Kirkpatrick, go to my past blog on Taylor. I can't say enough about the pacing, the suspense, nor the fascinating approach to history that Kirkpatrick presents. I think I set a record for how quickly I read this one! For murder, mystery, scandal, and heart, this one is a must.

2) Hollywood's Hellfire Club: The Misadventures of John Barrymore, W.C. Fields, Errol Flynn, and the Bundy Drive Boys by Gregory William Mank: I bought this book on a whim when killing time in a Joseph-Beth Booksellers. I already had a stack of books at home and had no reason to make a purchase, but this one was pulling me to it like a moth to a flame! The jubilant, horrendous, mischievous, and down-right dirty lives and shenanigans of the group of friends who used to meet and mingle at the former residence of John Decker is brilliantly recounted in this novel. The 'Boys' include: Barrymore, Fields, Flynn, Decker, John Carradine, Sadakichi Hartmann, Thomas Mitchell, Anthony Quinn, William Fowler, and a few more. Since misery loves company, it only makes sense that these fun-loving, drunken fools find each other, and the trouble they get into is legendary. There are stories of Decker and Flynn hi-jacking a mannequin, Barrymore flashing a matronly woman in the ladies room, and the eccentric Hartmann wetting his pants because he's too lazy to get up from his seat. But with the laughs comes the tragedy, and while you chuckle at the general merriment of these troublesome fellas, you also find yourself weeping at their tales of self-destruction. Most die too young, mere fragments of the men they once were. Though their flaws are displayed openly and without apology, you cannot help but wish you had been a fly on the wall to witness even one night of their debaucheries! For all the mud slung at these men over the years, something has to be said for each of them-- if you want to know a measure of a man, count his friends. The love they denied themselves, they gave to each other... with a shot of brandy, of course.

3) Silent Stars and The Star Machine by Jeanine Basinger: I grouped these two phenomenal books together, because they are written by the same author, whom I adore, and I couldn't decide between the two!!! I have my mama to thank for these, who is always on the lookout for me when it comes to literature. Silent Stars is a great jumping off point for anyone looking for an introduction to silent cinema and its celebrities. The enormous impact that the artists Basinger features is so profound, that even witnessing it years later in the pages of the book is enthralling. The decadence of the silent stars is unparalleled. Back then, passers-by could see Pola Negri walking her white tigers down the street, or see tracks on the dirt road from Tom Mix's initialed tires. In The Star Machine, she equally investigates the impact of movie stars in the golden age, but more interestingly deconstructs their calculating and laborious creation. How stars were built, physically as well as career-wise, is fascinating. The complete and utter metamorphosis many went through created a great divide between their true and their manufactured identities, and more than one celebrity fell prey to a fractured and unnerved psyche as a result. Some played along, others fought against the system. Some are remembered today, some are forgotten. Some found a place at the crest of super-stardom, and some never quite made it because the public never responded. With features on Jean Arthur, Tyrone Power, and Eleanor Powell, you get more than a taste of true Hollywood, where all the glitz and glamour is shamelessly chipped away.

I recommend all of the aforementioned books very highly, as I refer to them frequently in my studies. For those not so interested in film and its historical and social implications, they may not seem worthwhile or could be quite laborious. But for those true Hollywoodland connoisseurs out there, there will be no tastier meat upon which to feed your starving minds! If you do take a gander, tell me what you think, and if you have any recommendations for me as well, I would love to hear them. And remember, "Beware of the man of one book!"

BITS OF COINCIDENCE: Part One

In the world of history, all roads intersect. It truly is a small world, but the knowledge that we are all bound together inside of it can be a powerful thing. In studying Hollywood, I am focused on a very particular section of the past, but it is impossible to study the geography of one place without encroaching on other territories. The landscape of human life is forever intertwining, forever overlapping. Sometimes the bridges we forge between worlds is entertaining-- a hysterical bit of trivia-- and sometimes reassuring. Seeing the pieces of a massive puzzle all coming together to form one picture, albeit an ever-evolving one, makes the mystery of life and human connection all the more compelling. Is this not why we burrow into the past? To understand, to learn, to seek a commonality, which gives life a new meaning?

It is interesting to note the strange connections that different celebrities have with each other, outside of well-forged friendships. Chance encounters, life-altering meetings, and brief glimpses of different people from different generations seem to weld together the otherwise disconnected feelings that we have about important historical figures. I admit freely that I tend to think of people as existing within their own time line, so when I research a particular person and am introduced to the peers and acquaintances within their "community," I find it surprising. All of these separate stitches come together to form one large, all-encompassing fabric. It amuses me, and at the same time makes the person I study more tangible. Here are a few random encounters that struck me when I came across them:

~ Rin Tin Tin was one of the most famous, best beloved, and highest paid stars in Hollywood when he died on August 10, 1932. He peacefully met his maker in the arms of a new neighbor who had just moved in with her husband, Paul Bern. The new Hollywood ingenue? Jean Harlow.

 

~ In 1920, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks were returning from a lengthy, European honeymoon. While aboard the SS Olympic heading for New York, they encountered a charming 16-year-old, English lad who was headed for America for the first time. His name was Archibald Leach. He would later be known as Cary Grant.

~ When Carole Lombard's plain tragically went down in January of 1942, it crashed into the mountains of Nevada. Before her husband, Clark Gable, had even heard the tragic news, 2 famous neighbors from the silent film days saw the flames going up over the mountains beyond their ranch. Rex Bell and Clara Bow were unaware of the gravity of the event when Rex went riding out to the scene, being one of the first to offer help.

~ One night in 1929, struggling actor Boris Karloff was leaving the Universal lot after a hard day of extra work. He was tired, and was thus very grateful when a generous man pulled over and offered to give him a lift. Lon Chaney then gave Boris the best career advice he was ever to receive- "The secret of success in Hollywood lies in being different from anyone else. Find something no one else can or will do-- and they'll begin to take notice of you." Clearly, Boris took the words of wisdom to heart.

 

 

~ Back in the 1940s, one of Hollywood's most notorious hot-spots was the Florentine Gardens. Many big-wigs went here to see and be seen, flirt with the pretty girls, and spend money on a strong drink. Young wannabe actresses went there hoping to bump into a producer or director, who would maybe give them a screen test. Two ingenues who met here? Elizabeth "The Black Dahlia" Short and Norma Jean Baker, otherwise known as Marilyn Monroe.

I came across another coincidence lately that went beyond the actor-actor connection. This one actually blew my mind, for although the "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" law unites us all... this one stretches so far back into history, uniting two unlikely people, that all I could do was shake my head at the craziness of it.

                                                                     Wallace Reid                                                     

~Few people today remember the handsome matinee idol, Wallace Reid, although at one point he was one of Hollywood's biggest stars. Even fewer are familiar with his wife, Dorothy Davenport (below, top left), a movie star in her own right, who was descended from a long line of accomplished thespians, including the illustrious Fanny Davenport (bottom left), her aunt. (Fanny had, by the way, started an acting company in which the young actor Cunningham Deane aka William Desmond Taylor was performing in 1896). Dorothy's grandfather, Edward Loomis Davenport (top right) was a huge theater star in his time. So famous had he become, that his face appeared on etched cigar bands. Abraham Lincoln (left) was a fan of his work, and was excited when E.L. invited him to a performance of Othello at the Grover Theater on April 14, 1864. Unfortunately, Mary Todd had already made plans for them to see Our American Cousin at the Ford's Theater where, the night of the play, actor John Wilkes Booth (bottom right) shot Lincoln in his private box. Dorothy Davenport's grandfather very nearly saved Lincoln's life with his invitation, but fate had other plans. (Interestingly, E.L. had made his stage debut with Booth's father Junius Brutus Booth in Providence, RI). Wallace Reid-> Dorothy Davenport-> E.L. Davenport-> Abraham Lincoln. Less than 6 degrees of KB! Amazing! 

 

 

Hollywood seems to exist as its own separate universe- a galaxy of luminous stars radiating beyond the realm of the general population. Even living in Hollywood, one feels that there are two separate dimensions: the real world, and then the glossy world of fiction and fantasy-- the Olympus hovering somewhere overhead. It is a place that we cannot see nor touch, but that we are somehow constantly aware of. That is why I take such pleasure in the aforementioned instances of historical convergence, where "Hollywood" comes out from hiding and reveals itself as a real populace, filled with real people.

HISTORY LESSON: WHO KILLED WILLIAM DESMOND TAYLOR???

On the morning of February 2, 1922, William Desmond Taylor was lying peacefully on his back in his 202 Alvarado Street Bungalow in Los Angeles, CA. A handsome, fashionable man and famed film director, his appearance was immaculate. Not a hair was out of place, his arms were neatly at his sides, and his face was serene. At 7:30, his houseman Henry Peavey reported for work as usual, and he was quite surprised when he found his boss lying so quietly. On the floor. With an overturned chair on one of his legs. Henry drew closer. Bill wasn't breathing. Henry ran from the bungalow! Soon, all of the neighbors, including Edna Purviance, David and Faith MacLean, and Hazel Gillon heard the frightened black man screaming that his boss was dead.

Who killed Bill Taylor??? When the police first arrived at 8am that morning-- after the studio PR department, of course-- they didn't think WDT had been killed at all. He had suffered from severe stomach cramps for which he took milk of magnesia, and it was assumed that he had suffered a fatal hemorrhage. However, when the coroners lifted his body, they discovered a pool of blood on the carpet and a bullet in Bill's back. Because the entry wound did not match the hole in his jacket, it was clear that Bill had had his arms raised in surrender when he was shot. One hour after detectives had ruled his death one of natural causes, they re-opened the case. It was murder.

And so, the media mayhem began. Rumors ran wild, conspiracies were concocted, and suspects piled up like Saturday night ticket stubs. The shot that killed William Desmond Taylor became the shot heard 'round Hollywood. In time, myth and fiction would bury the truth, innocent people would be crucified, and poor, poor Bill would lie dead without redemption. It was rumored that the crazed finger-pointing that resulted was a calculated attempt to draw attention away from the real killer and the LAPD's massive cover up, as well as to utilize the opportunity to take down two movie stars that studios no longer considered worthy investments-- Mabel Normand and Mary Miles Minter. Before the search for truth was corrupted, and there were honorable detectives tirelessly looking for answers, the entire city was on the hunt for a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. What was found, and not found, made Hollywood history.

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Evidence found at the scene went as follows:

• WDT was shot at close range with a .38 snub nosed revolver. The bullet passed through his lungs, hit his collarbone, and stopped beneath the skin of his lower neck.

• Cigarette butts were found behind the bungalow, where the killer presumably waited for the right opportunity to make his/her move.

• The killing was not the result of a robbery, for Bill had $78 in his pocket, a diamond ring oh his finger, and a $2000 platinum watch on his wrist.

• Throughout the house were numerous letters, photographs, and gifts from both Mabel Normand and Mary Miles Minter.

• A set of keys was found, but they mysteriously fit none of the locks.

• Witnesses and neighbors in the court, David and Faith MacLean, heard shuffling footsteps behind the bungalow at 7:40pm.

• David reported hearing what sounded like a muffled shot between 8 and 8:15pm.

• Faith saw a man, or a woman dressed as a man, leaving the building not long after. He or she was about 5'10" and of medium build, wearing a long coat.

• Witness Hazel Gillon would later testify to seeing a dark figure depart.

As time passed, questionable and even completely fabricated evidence would also come into play. It was falsely reported that Mabel Normand had been at the bungalow the morning of Feb. 2, searching for love letters she had written to Bill. Untrue. Studio employee Charles Eyton was later sent by the studio to retrieve incriminating evidence, and he grabbed some of Mabel's letters. When he found them to be completely harmless, he turned them over to police. Mabel was not there that morning. A piece of lingerie was also found, bearing the insignia MMM, apparently belonging to Mary Miles Minter. Mary denied the existence of such an article, and after it was found, it just as quickly disappeared. This led to rumors that Bill had a large closet upstairs filled with pornographic photos and underwear belonging to major Hollywood starlets. Also false.

Another mystery came in the form of a handkerchief, which was rumored to be lying on the floor beside WDT with the monogram "S." A neighborhood doctor randomly appeared and offered his services to the police. After making his false diagnosis of "death by natural causes," the doctor quickly disappeared. The hanky went with him. It was also reported that 2 Hartley Service Station attendants and 1 Redline train conductor had testified to seeing a man that matched Faith MacLean's "description" the night of the murder, who  in both cases asked directions to Bill's house. Due to the fact that Faith's remembrance of the culprit was vague at best, it is difficult to accept their corroborations. From the beginning, it was clear that someone was tampering with evidence, feeding phony information to the press, and keeping the public away from the truth.

Suspects were aplenty. At the top of the list were Mabel and Mary, who by now the public was certain were both having a torrid affair with WDT. Normand would staunchly defend her platonic relationship with Bill, though Mary would never deny her feelings for the director, whom she claimed to love. The infamous love triangle, which suggested one of the women had killed her lover out of jealousy, would ruin the careers of both women, whom studios failed to protect.

Mabel (right) had in fact been the last to see Bill alive. She had come over to his home around 6:45 the evening of February 1, to pick up a book he'd bought for her. She waited outside for a few minutes in her lilac limousine as Bill finished up a phone call. Then, she went inside with her peanuts and popcorn and enjoyed a night of relaxation and conversation with her good friend. By 7:45, Bill had walked Mabel out to her car, she pressed her lips to her window, and kissed her pal farewell. (The lipstick smudge she left would later be used as evidence in her favor). After she was questioned, Mabel was fully exonerated of all suspicion because of her lack of motive as well as the alibi provided by both her chauffeur and her maid. She was completely innocent, yet the stigma of "murderess" would stick with her the rest of her life. Since she had a history of drug addiction, people also started spreading rumors that the bag of peanuts she had brought over to WDT's was actually cocaine.

Mary (left) was also (legally) let off the hook. Despite her numerous love letters, no motive could be found. It seemed she had truly loved Bill.  Her abili for that evening was corroborated by both her sister, Margaret, and her grandmother, Julia, who confirmed that she had been reading The Cruise of the South Sea Island to them at the time of the murder. Her little pink neglige did manage to forever label her as a tramp, and her work in films came to a screeching halt. The other suspects were the following:

• Henry Peavey, houseman: Along with the immediate suspicion he garnered for being the one to find Bill's body, Henry had a prior arrest for public indecency in park for soliciting young men. Ironically, Bill was supposed to testify on his behalf the day his body was found.

• An Army Officer: When Bill fought in WWI, it was rumored that he testified against a fellow officer at a court martial. Some speculated that the said officer returned to take his revenge on the suddenly famous director.

• Drug Dealers: Bill made it part of his mission to make a war on the dope ring. He personally took it upon himself to send his troubled friend Mabel to a sanatorium for rehabilitation for her growing addiction. It was theorized that some miffed leaders of the drug ring wanted to shut the revolutionary man up.

• Charlotte Shelby: The mother of Mary Miles Minter, she was a greedy, possessive woman, who was known to both own a gun and use it to threaten her daughter's suitors.

• Ada Tanner: Ada was the wife of Bill's brother, Dennis, who had skipped town on her many years ago. When she received a tip that Dennis was working with her rich brother in Hollywood, she came running with her hand out. Bill paid her monthly checks on Dennis's behalf. Did it prove to be too little?

• And the most mysterious: Edward Sands. Ed was WDT's secretary, who some believed was actually his brother Dennis, living under a false identity. Though this proved to be untrue, it did appear that Ed had been blackmailing Bill. He then skipped town with $5000 in forged checks and many of Bill's valuables, which were later found at a pawn shop. Ed was found dead 6 weeks after Bill's murder with a self-inflicted bullet in his brain. Guilt for thievery or murder???

The list went on and on, and by 1923 there were 300 suspects, most of whom were "confessing Sams," unbalanced individuals who wanted their name in the papers. The case grew stranger and stranger as the years passed, with the facts becoming increasingly jumbled. Digging into WDT's past unearthed many ghosts as well, and people were shocked to learn that the compassionate gentleman was not all that he had appeared to be.

Born April 26, 1867 in Carlow, Ireland, William Deane Tanner (pictured right on set of "Captain Alvarez") was a modest and bashful youth with a penchant for the arts. His father, a gruff British Major, envisioned a different life for Bill in the army. At 15, content no longer, Bill broke his engagement to Eva Shannon and left to pursue a career on the stage. By the age of 17, his father had tracked him down and sent him to Runnymeade, a ranch that rehabilitated disobedient youths. After "serving his time" there, he left home for good. He struggled through odd jobs, even ironically serving in the military. By the time he was 34, he was living in New York, married to Ethel Harrison, actress, and working in an antique shop. He then abruptly disappeared with $500, Ethel divorced him, citing infidelity as the cause, and a few years later he had re-emerged as an actor and director in Hollywood, CA. (Many consider his masterpiece to be Huckleberry Finn).

At first glance, this would make Bill seem like an irresponsible cad, but in truth he remained on good terms with ex-wife Ethel and his daughter Daisy Deane Tanner, whom he supported financially even after Ethel remarried. He also put Daisy through school. What reason, then, could he possibly have for leaving them? And why would Ethel be so understanding of it? The answer was discovered by none other than King Vidor when he was researching the murder for a movie he wanted to make. According to Vidor's findings, William Desmond Taylor was a homosexual. No longer being able to hide the truth from himself or his family, he and his wife amicably split, and he took the blame of infidelity in order to  save Ethel the shame and embarrassment.  This was the information Edward Sands had been blackmailing him with.

His sexual orientation was corroborated by many of those who worked with him and knew him well. WDT was always described as being gentlemanly, respectful, and consummately professional. He was never a "lady chaser," and in Hollywood, a hot-shot director like himself could have had his pick of many a beauty. It was also said that the awkward argument he got into one evening before the murder at the athletic club occurred because friends Marshall Neilan, Jimmy Kirkwood, and Tony Moreno confronted him about his sexuality. Friend and set decorator George Hopkins was also a homosexual, and he told Vidor that he was sent to Bill's house the morning of the murder specifically to clean up any incriminating evidence that would point to his homosexuality. The notorious pink nightie was planted by the studios, who wanted to protect the director's reputation as a ladies' man, and their own reputation as well. The mystery keys the police found belonged to the home of Bill's lover, and there was even a hotel room Bill rented, supposedly for Henry Peavey, that he actually used for himself and his male guests. Henry Peavey, who was in fact not a homosexual, was arrested for soliciting men on Bill's behalf, which is why Bill was going to testify for him. The debacle had been his fault, and he was guilt-ridden. This also equally explains the platonic relationship Mabel and Bill had with each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It does, however, leave curious Bill's relationship with Mary Miles Minter. It turns out that Mary was not his lover, but a lovesick, little girl who was rumored to stalk the caring director in the hopes that he would offer her salvation from her controlling mother. The rumored love triangle was a bust-- complete publicity. However, Vidor also found another bit of evidence that had been buried. Three of Mary Miles Minter's hairs had been found on WDT's body!!! How and why was this covered up!? It turns out that it was not Mary whom the police were trying to protect, but her mother, Charlotte Shelby, who had easily bought the corrupt District Attorney Thomas Woolwine's silence. It was the evil, manipulative Mama Shelby who had killed Bill Taylor. Here are the facts:

Mary never wanted to be an actress, but when Charlotte, who had always favored elder daughter Margaret (pictured at left with Charlotte), saw Mary's natural talent, she decided to use her daughter as a meal ticket all the way to Hollywood. In her claustrophobic clutches, Mary was always looking for a way out. She had an affair with Jimmy Kirkwood, whom she hoped would rescue her. All he got her was pregnant, which of course led to Charlotte's insistence on an abortion. Not much later, Mary fell for the sturdy, fatherly, and compassionate Taylor, whom more than one actor relied on as a trustworthy confidante and pillar of strength. She was head over heels for the sensitive man, who for once stood up to her mother and protected her. He wasn't afraid of Charlotte, but he should have been.

Charlotte felt cornered. If WDT gave Mary the strength to break out on her own, Charlotte would lose her easy income and expensive lifestyle. It was known that Charlotte carried a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver. When pushed to the limit, Mary had even tried to kill herself with it. She fired into her mouth three times, but the safety was luckily on. Charlotte had also driven to Bill's before and threatened him with the gun, but he failed to get the message.

On the evening of February 1, Charlotte locked her disobedient daughter in her bedroom. Julia, Mary's grandmother, who was the only one to ever really love her, let her out, and Mary high-tailed it over to Bill's. Charlotte was enraged and started searching everywhere for Mary. She started at Marjorie Berger's, who was the accountant Bill and Mary shared. Marjorie called Bill after her "interrogation" to alert him to be on his guard, and this is whom he was on the phone with when Mabel drove up for their night together. Hiding upstairs all this time, unbeknown to Mabel, was Mary. Hovering somewhere behind the bungalow, was Charlotte. When Mabel left, and Bill walked her to her car, Charlotte made her move and slipped in. This was her only opportunity, as all of Bill's doors automatically locked when they closed. Bill waved goodbye to Mabel and re-entered his home, not knowing the evil awaiting him inside. We'll never know what exactly occurred once he closed the bungalow door behind him, but within minutes, he was dead.

Charlotte and Mary both fled the scene, which would account for differing descriptions of the culprit's appearance. Later, Adela Rogers St. Johns would claim that Faith MacLean did in fact accurately i.d. Charlotte as the man/woman leaving the scene that night. Charlotte created the false alibi that Mary had been reading to her grandmother and sister all night, which Julia obligingly corroborated to protect her innocent granddaughter. For herself, Charlotte claimed that she had been having dinner that night with Carl Stockdale, who just happened to be a close, personal friend of D.A. Woolwine's.

It would have been easy to pin the murder on Charlotte had she not had Woolwine in her pocket. On the morning of Feb. 2, Charlotte called Marjorie Berger between 7 and 7:30 and told her about Bill's death. Her gloating clouded her thinking, for this was a dead giveaway. Henry Peavey did not find Bill until 7:30, so how could Charlotte have known he was dead? She made the same mistake at 8am when the police were just arriving at the scene. This time she told her chauffeur, Charles Eyton, about the murder, then handed him her .38 and told him to empty to bullets.

The whole mess was hushed up by Woolwine, who was paid handsomely for his silence by Charlotte, with Mary's hard earned money of course. All incriminating evidence disappeared and the facts were altered when given to the public. Even the description of the crime scene was false. Apparently, Bill's body had not been as immaculately composed as originally described. His face may have been peaceful, but there was blood on his nose. His arms and legs were also in more disarray and lay not perfectly at his sides. While studio publicity cleaned up Bill's image, they didn't stop the dirtying of Mary's, who was left alone, jobless, and soon, all but insane. Charlotte on the other hand was fine. Even when daughter Margaret sued her mother in later years, testifying that she had been forced by Mama to give false testimony in the WDT case, no arrests were ever made. The payoffs continued when future D.A. Buron Fitts found the murder weapon, which Julia was supposed to get rid of. Fitts, one of the most corrupt SOBs that ever lived, offered to destroy all evidence once and for all if paid a hefty sum. He killed himself in 1973 with a .38.

With one shot, Charlotte took down Bill Taylor, Mabel Normand, and Mary Miles Minter, who once said: "My mother killed everything I ever loved." Who would have known she was being literal? Of course, Mary remained unwaveringly loyal to her mother, never uttering the truth of what happened to anyone. She even came to believe her own lies. Family was all she had left, after all. After Charlotte died, there were those who theorized that she faked her own death and still stalked  her then overweight and mentally unstable daughter Mary, who in later life was a recluse suffering from diabetes. Whether alive or dead, Charlotte continued to haunt her.

 

Photo taken by the coroner

William Desmond Taylor rests now at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in the Cathedral Mausoleum. But he does not rest in peace. His story is but one of many ghosts that haunt the diabolical place called Tinsel Town-- so pretty, so dangerous. With all the major players now dead, how can justice ever be done? I suppose simply by honoring the gifted director and his plentiful contribution to cinematic artistry, which is one thing that will thankfully never die.

*Update: I just encountered information regarding Margaret Gibson aka Patricia Palmer et al, a silent screen actress who reportedly confessed to Will's murder on her deathbed in 1964. As she was involved in extortion, and knew and worked with Taylor, the motive would seem to lean toward blackmail-gone-wrong, if she did in fact pull the trigger. I still stand by the aforementioned theory of my article, as I am not familiar enough with the evidence surrounding Gibson's plea, but will keep you posted as I learn more. Was her confession the raving of a delirious old woman, or is there truth??? (There is more information about her at Taylorology.com). To be continued...