Gladys: "I'd Like to Have My Child's Love"

Marilyn Monroe had just successfully coped with the surprising release of her nude photography when another scandal broke out around her. For years, she had told the world that she was an orphan, that her parents were both deceased. Where her father was concerned, this may as well have been the case because he played no role in her life. But her mother was a different matter.

In May 1952-right before Marilyn turned twenty-six-part of the story of her mother leaked out and caused a painful public relations quagmire for her. A reporter named Erskine Johnson from the Hollywood Reporter Hollywood Reporter learned that Gladys was indeed alive, and he found her. He a.s.sumed in his report that she had just been released from Agnews State Hospital, but by this time she'd been out for seven years. In a story he called "Marilyn Monroe Confesses Mother Alive, Living Here," which ran in the learned that Gladys was indeed alive, and he found her. He a.s.sumed in his report that she had just been released from Agnews State Hospital, but by this time she'd been out for seven years. In a story he called "Marilyn Monroe Confesses Mother Alive, Living Here," which ran in the Reporter Reporter on May 3, 1952, he reported that Gladys was working at a private nursing facility in Eagle Rock, California, called Homestead Lodge. The thrust of the story wasn't so much that Gladys was alive as that Marilyn had lied about it. It caused no end of problems for Marilyn in the media. For instance, she had just done an interview with a reporter for on May 3, 1952, he reported that Gladys was working at a private nursing facility in Eagle Rock, California, called Homestead Lodge. The thrust of the story wasn't so much that Gladys was alive as that Marilyn had lied about it. It caused no end of problems for Marilyn in the media. For instance, she had just done an interview with a reporter for Redbook Redbook about her sad childhood, being raised an orphan after both her parents died. It was too late for the magazine's publisher to pull it from circulation. The story-"So Far to Go Alone"-not only made Marilyn look like a fabulist but also jeopardized the credibility of the publication and the writer of the feature, Jim Henaghan. Henaghan phoned Fox and complained to the publicity department, calling Marilyn a liar; he was very upset. Marilyn did what she did best-she handled the matter openly and honestly. She wrote a letter to about her sad childhood, being raised an orphan after both her parents died. It was too late for the magazine's publisher to pull it from circulation. The story-"So Far to Go Alone"-not only made Marilyn look like a fabulist but also jeopardized the credibility of the publication and the writer of the feature, Jim Henaghan. Henaghan phoned Fox and complained to the publicity department, calling Marilyn a liar; he was very upset. Marilyn did what she did best-she handled the matter openly and honestly. She wrote a letter to Redbook Redbook for publication, stating, "I frankly did not feel wrong in withholding from you the fact that my mother is still alive... since we have never known each other intimately and have never enjoyed the normal relationship of mother and daughter." for publication, stating, "I frankly did not feel wrong in withholding from you the fact that my mother is still alive... since we have never known each other intimately and have never enjoyed the normal relationship of mother and daughter."

Since becoming famous, Marilyn had still been in constant communication with her half sister, Berniece. When her nude calendar made headlines, her first impulse was to call Berniece and warn her about it. (Berniece's husband, Paris, had already come home from work with a dozen publications featuring the photos.) The two sisters then discussed how at the time Marilyn posed for the pictures, one of her greatest fears had been that her Aunt Ana would one day see them. How would she have explained them to Ana? In her mind, that would have been much tougher than explaining them to America. Ana was gone now, so it was a moot point, but others in her life were still alive and could be affected by the scandal. Marilyn knew her Aunt Grace-now more devoted to Christian Science than she had been even when Ana was alive-might take issue with the photographs, but she also knew that Grace understood show business and public relations and would eventually reconcile all of it in her head. Gladys was another story. Marilyn and Berniece just hoped that Gladys wouldn't see the pictures. It turned out that in 1952, Gladys had more important problems.

Four years earlier, when Marilyn had learned from Johnny Hyde that her mother's new husband was a bigamist, she had immediately called her Aunt Grace to tell her the startling news. Grace in turn told Gladys. "And who told you this?" Gladys wanted to know. "Norma Jeane," said Grace. That was all Gladys needed to hear to become convinced that Marilyn was trying to ruin her marriage, "because that's how much she hates me. She'll do anything to ruin my life because she still believes I ruined hers." There was no talking Gladys out of her point of view. She insisted that John did not have another wife and that it was all a lie that Marilyn had come up with, "like the rest of her stories."

Gladys had other problems with Eley, though. The man was a heavy drinker and emotionally abusive. In 1951, Gladys decided to file for divorce. However, before the paperwork could be completed, Eley became ill with heart disease. Gladys felt she had no choice but to stay at his side and utilize her belief in Christian Science to possibly heal him.

In the winter of 1951, Gladys got the job at Homestead Lodge, referred to in the Hollywood Reporter Hollywood Reporter story about her. Then, on April 23, 1952, John Eley died at the age of sixty-two. Gladys moved in with Grace G.o.ddard. After a time, she decided to look up Ida Bolender, and proceeded to move in with her. "Mother could never turn anyone down," said Ida Bolender's foster daughter Nancy Jeffrey. However, once she was at Ida's, Gladys said that she was sorry she had moved in with her. The two women just did not get along. Gladys wanted to leave the Bolender home, but apparently Grace didn't want her moving back with her. On top of all of this, Marilyn hadn't acknowledged John Eley's death with a sympathy card. Even though Marilyn was sending Gladys a monthly allowance, Gladys was still unhappy about what she perceived as her daughter's indifference, and she wrote her this stinging letter: story about her. Then, on April 23, 1952, John Eley died at the age of sixty-two. Gladys moved in with Grace G.o.ddard. After a time, she decided to look up Ida Bolender, and proceeded to move in with her. "Mother could never turn anyone down," said Ida Bolender's foster daughter Nancy Jeffrey. However, once she was at Ida's, Gladys said that she was sorry she had moved in with her. The two women just did not get along. Gladys wanted to leave the Bolender home, but apparently Grace didn't want her moving back with her. On top of all of this, Marilyn hadn't acknowledged John Eley's death with a sympathy card. Even though Marilyn was sending Gladys a monthly allowance, Gladys was still unhappy about what she perceived as her daughter's indifference, and she wrote her this stinging letter: Dear Marilyn, Dear Marilyn, Please dear child, I'd like to receive a letter from you. Things are very annoying around here and I'd like to move away as soon as possible. I'd like to have my child's love instead of hatred.Love,Mother Though Marilyn found the letter very upsetting, she would keep it as a memento. She also kept a framed photograph of Gladys on her nightstand.

Gladys had been talking for some time about going to Florida to visit Berniece. There was some trepidation about this possibility from all quarters. Berniece wanted to know her mother and welcomed the notion of a visit, but Marilyn and Grace had strong reservations about it because they knew Gladys a lot better than Berniece and weren't so certain it would be a good experience. Still, Berniece wrote to Gladys and said she was open to a visit from her and hoped she would come to Florida as soon as possible. Even though she had her doubts about the wisdom of such a visit, Marilyn decided that she would pay for all of Gladys's traveling expenses. The matter was then left up in the air; no one knew what Gladys was going to do next.

During the summer of 1952, while Gladys worked at Homestead Lodge, her daughter was getting more attention and publicity than ever before. It was impossible to miss her on the cover of some magazine or on television in a news report, especially after her many movies and personal appearances, the calendar scandal, and her budding romance with Joe DiMaggio. Gladys would go to work and often be confronted by the image of her daughter in a newspaper or, especially, on the TV set in the "television room" where the guests of the home would while away the hours.

Ever since Gladys started working at Homestead, she had been telling people she was Marilyn Monroe's mother. According to two women who worked at the facility at that time, Gladys would insist, "I'm telling you that Marilyn Monroe is my kid. I don't know why you don't believe me." In turn, she was inevitably told that she was being ridiculous because everyone knew that Marilyn's mother was dead; Marilyn had said so publicly-repeatedly. From all available evidence, it seems that Marilyn and Grace-who together had the idea to proclaim Gladys dead in an effort to protect her from the media-had never told Gladys their PR strategy. She became defensive about it and believed her integrity was called into question when people at her job felt she was lying.

Soon, according to one of two women on duty at that time at Homestead Lodge with Gladys, "She came in one day with photos of her and Marilyn Monroe-or at least a girl who looked like she could have been Marilyn Monroe except that she was young and had dark hair. 'See, this is me and Marilyn Monroe,' Gladys said, very proudly. 'Do you believe me now?' No one knew what to think. This was some big news, let me tell you. Yes, it had to be true, everyone decided. I mean, she had pictures pictures. Gladys felt better, and everyone went about his or her business. However, we all looked at Gladys a little differently at that time. We certainly wondered how it came to pa.s.s that this woman, Marilyn Monroe's mother, was working here at an old folks' home. It seemed very odd... very sad."

Like ripples in a pond, the repercussions of Gladys's revelation were sure to spread out far and wide from Homestead Lodge to... the world. It was just a matter of time before someone would tell someone else-who would then tell someone else-that Marilyn Monroe's mother was alive and working in Eagle Rock, California. It's not known who called Erskine Johnson with the tip, and Johnson would never reveal his source. While this backstage drama was going on, Fox renewed its contract with Marilyn. Now she would be receiving $750 a week. At about the same time Homestead Lodge was abuzz over Gladys's revelations, Marilyn was in the hospital having her appendix removed. While she was still recovering, Johnson's article about Gladys appeared in the Hollywood Reporter Hollywood Reporter. The surprising news that Marilyn's mother was alive traveled around the world at the speed of light. Fox was unhappy about it. Marilyn was told that her mother's existence should have been kept a secret, and some of the executives blamed her for allowing the news to come out. Marilyn disagreed. "The cat's out of the bag now," she said. "The secret is no more." Then, taking the matter into her hands quickly, the first thing she did was call Erskine Johnson from her hospital bed. She would repeat what had worked so well with Aline Mosby of United Press International when the nude calendar scandal broke. She gave Johnson an exclusive interview.

"Unbeknownst to me as a child," Marilyn said, "my mother spent many years as an invalid in a state hospital. I was raised in a series of foster homes arranged by a guardian through the County of Los Angeles and I spent more than a year in the Los Angeles Orphans' Home. I hadn't known my mother intimately, but since I have become grown and able to help her, I have contacted her. I am helping her now and want to continue to help her when she needs me."

Marilyn would later say of Gladys, "I just want to forget about all the unhappiness, all the misery she had in her life, and I had in mine. I can't forget it, but I'd like to try. When I am Marilyn Monroe and don't think about Norma Jeane, then sometimes it works."

Because it seems that Gladys hadn't been told Marilyn was keeping her existence a secret, it also would seem that Gladys wasn't trying to hurt Marilyn in revealing her existence.

As mentioned earlier, Erskine Johnson's May 1952 story a.s.sumed that Gladys had just been released from Agnews State Hospital (whereas she had been released seven years prior); and because Marilyn never never set anyone straight on this detail, the public has formed a lasting impression of Marilyn Monroe as a heartless person who had disowned her mother from the time Gladys had been committed to the mental hospital, right up through 1952. In all the years since 1952, the true date of Gladys's release from the hospital still hasn't become widely known. This biography sets the record straight: Marilyn's PR decision to portray her mother as deceased had nothing to do with her being ashamed of Gladys. On the contrary, we now know that Marilyn throughout her life did everything she could to help her mother. set anyone straight on this detail, the public has formed a lasting impression of Marilyn Monroe as a heartless person who had disowned her mother from the time Gladys had been committed to the mental hospital, right up through 1952. In all the years since 1952, the true date of Gladys's release from the hospital still hasn't become widely known. This biography sets the record straight: Marilyn's PR decision to portray her mother as deceased had nothing to do with her being ashamed of Gladys. On the contrary, we now know that Marilyn throughout her life did everything she could to help her mother.

Marilyn and Joe: Tumultuous Already?

During the summer of 1952, Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio began to date more regularly. He had a job at that time broadcasting for the Yankees on television, as well as at the games themselves. He wasn't very confident in the role and, in truth, wasn't very good at it. He simply didn't have the personality for that kind of on-air position. Obviously, Marilyn-who turned twenty-six on June 1-could have helped him a great deal in his new endeavor, if only in terms of his presentation. But he didn't want her help, and in fact wasn't very nice about rejecting it. Marilyn was quickly learning that Joe felt she had a "place," and that she should find it... and stay there.

Indeed, red flags were being raised all over the terrain of Marilyn's new relationship with DiMaggio. For instance, he was clearly jealous of the attention she generated from other men wherever she went. When she was at the stadium with him, of course she would be the subject of great fascination. She had always attracted men, but never like in the 1950s. By this time, she was in full-fledged Marilyn Monroe mode, meaning that the transformation from Norma Jeane had been total. The way she spoke-a honeyed voice so whispery and seductive. The way she moved her lips-a kiss always imminent. The way she moved her body-a striptease always a possibility, but never quite a reality. When she was in public in front of her adoring fans and the ever-present glare of the photographers' flashes, she instantly became Marilyn Monroe Marilyn Monroe. She didn't even have to think about it anymore. The persona she had created was now such a part of her being it just... was. was. She was quickly becoming a rising s.e.x symbol for an entire generation. It was only going to get worse for him (and for her!), not better, as her star continued in its ascent. Yet the heart wants what it wants, and the couple ventured forth anyway. Of course, Natasha Lytess had a strong opinion about it. "This man is the punishment of G.o.d in your life," she told Marilyn, disguising neither her contempt for him nor her disapproval of their relationship. She was quickly becoming a rising s.e.x symbol for an entire generation. It was only going to get worse for him (and for her!), not better, as her star continued in its ascent. Yet the heart wants what it wants, and the couple ventured forth anyway. Of course, Natasha Lytess had a strong opinion about it. "This man is the punishment of G.o.d in your life," she told Marilyn, disguising neither her contempt for him nor her disapproval of their relationship.

In July, Joe took her home to meet his family. Once there, she clearly saw why Joe wanted his wife to be domestic-women stayed home, raised children, cooked and cleaned, and it had always been that way in the DiMaggio family. Marilyn was not that kind of woman at all.

At the end of the summer of 1952, Joe dropped a real bombsh.e.l.l: He thought it would be best if Marilyn abandoned her career. It only caused her great stress anyway, he argued, so why do it? It was becoming abundantly clear that this was a man who didn't understand Marilyn. Her career-meaning fame-was her greatest pa.s.sion. Acting was important to her and she did whatever she could to improve her skills. However, Marilyn Monroe wanted to be famous. In just a few months she would tell her stand-in on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, "I want to be a star more than anything. It's something precious."

"I didn't want to give up my career," Marilyn later recalled, "and that's what Joe wanted me to do most of all. He wanted me to be the beautiful ex-actress, just like he was the great former ballplayer. We were to ride into some sunset together. But I wasn't ready for that kind of journey yet. I wasn't even thirty, for heaven's sake."

The physical attraction between Joe and Marilyn was intense, and it definitely contributed to their desire to be with each other. However, it was clear that they had very different values. The many differences between them can be boiled down to this: He was conservative. She was not. And neither was willing to compromise. Given these facts of their personalities, there seemed no way a romance between them was going be anything but tumultuous.

Gladys's Surprise Visit.

Though Gladys Baker had been saying for some time that she wanted to visit her daughter Berniece in Florida, Berniece and Marilyn were really not sure she was serious about it. When Marilyn offered to take care of her expenses for such a trip, all was quiet with Gladys.

Then, true to form, Gladys-always one for a surprise appearance or disappearance-showed up in Florida without warning during the first week of September 1952. How she got the money for her trip (and by airline, no less, because Marilyn intended to send her by railway) remained a mystery. She definitely did not get the funds from Marilyn, though, because if she had, Marilyn would have warned Berniece about her impending arrival. Instead, Berniece's daughter, Mona Rae, picked up the telephone one morning and it was Gladys on the other end telling her she was at the airport-and why wasn't anyone there to pick her up? When Marilyn found out about it, she was frantic with worry. She couldn't imagine how Gladys had made the trip. The mere fact that she was capable of such surprise maneuvers was something Marilyn found very troubling. "I don't know how to keep an eye on her," she said. "It's becoming more than I can handle."

The same could have been said for poor Berniece, because the next few weeks would prove to be very difficult. Gladys wasn't exactly the ideal houseguest. The apartment in which Berniece and her husband, Paris, and daughter lived was very small, and now there was a fourth occupant. Not surprisingly, Gladys was demanding and difficult, argumentative and disruptive. She wouldn't help with any household duties and spent her days complaining and making long-distance telephone calls. Berniece did everything she could to make Gladys happy, but nothing worked. Gladys's emotional problems were complex. She needed to be managed very carefully, and Berniece simply didn't have the skills necessary to do that. Ultimately, she was at a loss, especially when she got the bill for the first month of telephone calls-long-distance costs were unbelievably exorbitant back then and Paris was very unhappy about the charges. When Berniece asked Gladys about the phone calls, she became defensive and explained that she had simply forgotten to mention them. Confused, Berniece called Marilyn to ask if she thought Gladys was being forgetful or just plain inconsiderate. Marilyn decided it was probably a little bit of both.

From an a.n.a.lytical viewpoint, Marilyn found the unhappy interaction between Gladys and Berniece interesting because for years she had wondered if it was just she who could not get along with Gladys. Maybe she should have tried harder, she often thought. Maybe she hadn't been as patient as she should have been, or as understanding. However, when she learned of Berniece's troubles with Gladys, she felt at least somewhat vindicated. From a practical viewpoint, what were they going to do about Gladys now? Marilyn had an idea: What if she paid for Gladys to move into an apartment near Berniece? Since Gladys did seem to like Florida, perhaps she could live there, Marilyn would take care of her expenses, and Berniece could keep an eye on her. The sisters agreed that this was a good idea and they felt certain that their mother would approve of it. However, when Berniece approached Gladys with the idea, she wasn't happy about it at all. She became very angry because she felt that Berniece and Paris were just trying to get rid of her. Her feelings now hurt, she didn't want to discuss it any further-and, moreover, it seemed as if she were not going to be ending her stay with Berniece anytime in the foreseeable future.

While Gladys was with her, Berniece took the opportunity to ask her about Marilyn's father. Gladys came out very bluntly with the information that Edward Mortenson was not Marilyn's father. Did Marilyn know? Yes, Gladys said, she knew because Grace told her. (Here, she was probably referring to the time Grace visited her in the sanitarium and Gladys told her that Charles Gifford was Marilyn's father.) Berniece wondered how Marilyn had reacted to the news. Gladys said she had no idea (which was true-she had been in the hospital when Grace gave Marilyn the news). As Berniece pressed on about the subject, Gladys became increasingly agitated. Finally, she snapped at her daughter, "Look, if you want to know all of the details, ask Marilyn Marilyn." Berniece dropped the subject.

After almost two months of domestic turmoil, Berniece-feeling terrible about the entire situation-called Grace G.o.ddard on October 30 to ask her advice. Grace sympathized with her. She had known Gladys for many years and she knew how difficult she was. She a.s.sured Berniece that Gladys didn't mean any harm, that she was just sick and there had never been anything anyone could do about it. Grace had been using Christian Science as a tool in the healing of Gladys's mind, but that didn't seem to be working at all. Just two days earlier, she had sent Berniece a note telling her that Gladys "did not get a complete healing." She wrote that she was afraid they were going to have to send her back to Agnews in San Jose, or maybe they should place her in the Rock Haven Sanitarium in La Crescenta, California. * *

In fact, Grace and Marilyn had recently visited Rock Haven, Grace wrote, and both agreed that it was "not terrible as such places go, about as good as they get, I suppose." She wrote that Marilyn was so traumatized by the visit, however, she didn't sleep well that night and "had to take some sleeping pills, which did not make me very happy." Moreover, she indicated that if it Gladys were to end up at Rock Haven, "at least it will be easier for Norma Jeane and I to visit her, though I'm not sure how many such visits Norma Jeane could make. It's a very upsetting place for her. However, a parent must be cared for and we are all doing the best we can for Gladys."

"Let's please mail Mother a train ticket to come back to Los Angeles," Marilyn finally suggested. She then telephoned Gladys and said that she wanted her to return to California. Of course, Gladys stood her ground. She wasn't going anywhere. In fact, she told Marilyn to concentrate on her "moving picture career" and to leave her alone. She said she was tired of being told what to do, that she had her own agenda and was going to live her life exactly as she pleased. Then she slammed down the phone. The next day, Marilyn paid for a train ticket and mailed it to her mother in Florida.

Niagara.

Marilyn's 1953 films, three carefully constructed, big-budget, high-profile properties in gorgeous, eye-popping Technicolor-Niagara, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and How to Marry a Millionaire- How to Marry a Millionaire- would define the Monroe screen persona and secure her place in the firmament of Hollywood for the next decade, always billed above the t.i.tle and more often than not in the top spot. The films would also propel Marilyn to the number five spot in Quigley's Top Ten list of the year's box-office stars. "The time when I sort of began to think I was famous, I was driving somebody to the airport," she would recall in 1962, "and as I came back there was this movie house and I saw my name in lights. I pulled the car up at a distance down the street-it was too much to take in up close, you know? And I said, 'G.o.d, somebody's made a mistake!' But there it was, in lights.... And I sat there and said, 'So, that's the way it looks'... it was all very strange to me." would define the Monroe screen persona and secure her place in the firmament of Hollywood for the next decade, always billed above the t.i.tle and more often than not in the top spot. The films would also propel Marilyn to the number five spot in Quigley's Top Ten list of the year's box-office stars. "The time when I sort of began to think I was famous, I was driving somebody to the airport," she would recall in 1962, "and as I came back there was this movie house and I saw my name in lights. I pulled the car up at a distance down the street-it was too much to take in up close, you know? And I said, 'G.o.d, somebody's made a mistake!' But there it was, in lights.... And I sat there and said, 'So, that's the way it looks'... it was all very strange to me."

Charles Casillo, an author and Marilyn Monroe historian, best summed up Marilyn's appeal this way: "Marilyn Monroe was beautiful. Marilyn Monroe was s.e.xy. Marilyn Monroe was delicious... always delicious. Everyone knew that. She wasn't just a s.e.x symbol. She was the the s.e.x symbol. But it was a certain kind of s.e.x appeal, initiated, developed and perfected by her. Her appeal was childlike, innocent, tempting, glowing-bursting forth and available like a dish of fresh strawberries arranged in cream.... The creation of Marilyn Monroe had made an unwanted girl of the streets the most desired, written about, a.n.a.lyzed, gossiped about, wondered about and longed for woman of her era." s.e.x symbol. But it was a certain kind of s.e.x appeal, initiated, developed and perfected by her. Her appeal was childlike, innocent, tempting, glowing-bursting forth and available like a dish of fresh strawberries arranged in cream.... The creation of Marilyn Monroe had made an unwanted girl of the streets the most desired, written about, a.n.a.lyzed, gossiped about, wondered about and longed for woman of her era."

For the first of these landmark movies, Niagara Niagara, the studio lavished the film with an impressive team of Oscar-honored artisans and craftsmen, with veteran Fox director Henry Hathaway, who had just directed Monroe the previous year in O. Henry's Full House. O. Henry's Full House.

Joseph Cotten played Loomis, a mentally damaged Korean War vet who, with his wife, Rose (Monroe), makes a trip to Niagara Falls in an attempt to repair their broken marriage. In Rose's mind, the marriage is beyond repair and she uses the trip to continue an adulterous affair with her lover, Patrick, who agrees to murder George. The plot to kill George backfires when he hurls Patrick into the falls to his death. Rose escapes and begins a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with George, played out against the awesome beauty and deafening power of the falls. George's pursuit of Rose moves furtively in and out of Niagara's watery veil. We teeter between horror and relief as George corners the beautiful Rose in the belltower and chokes the life out of her.

Since the beginning of her film career, Marilyn had striven to win the approval and respect of those in her profession. She studied her craft and worked with coaches from day one. She had the adoration of millions of fans yet somehow felt her beauty got in the way of her being recognized as a serious actress. There is evidence that some movie critics felt the same way. But occasionally there would be favorable comments about her acting chops, and her films would also get a thumbs-up. Even Pauline Kael, the feared film critic of the New Yorker New Yorker, would praise her with faint d.a.m.ns, as she did when writing about Niagara. Niagara. "This isn't a good movie," she wrote, "but it's compellingly tawdry and nasty... the only movie that explores the mean, unsavory potential of Marilyn Monroe's cuddly, infantile perversity." Of the same movie, a critic at the "This isn't a good movie," she wrote, "but it's compellingly tawdry and nasty... the only movie that explores the mean, unsavory potential of Marilyn Monroe's cuddly, infantile perversity." Of the same movie, a critic at the New York Times New York Times wrote, "Seen from any angle, the Falls and Miss Monroe leave little to be desired." wrote, "Seen from any angle, the Falls and Miss Monroe leave little to be desired."

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

I'm trying to find myself now, to be a good actress and good person," Marilyn said as 1952 came to a close. "Sometimes I feel strong inside, but I have to reach in and pull it up. It isn't easy. Nothing's easy, as long as you go on living." * *

Toward the end of 1952, Marilyn leased a house in Beverly Hills so that she and Joe could have some peace and quiet away from the swarm of paparazzi that gathered whenever they left their suite at the Hotel Bel Air, where they had been spending much of their time. However, it was neither peaceful nor quiet at the new home. On October 1, they had a fight-it's not known about what-and Joe stormed out after what Marilyn later called "a lot of name calling." They had known each other for only seven months. A major problem in Marilyn's relationship was presented by Natasha Lytess, who disliked Joe very much. She couldn't understand why Marilyn would be interested in him. In her view, he had no personality, was dense, and maybe even dimwitted (which was not true). Apparently, she had called Marilyn one day only to have Joe pick up and tell her that if she wanted to speak to "Miss Monroe" she should call "Miss Monroe's" agent. In Joe's view, she was a controlling shrew who had too much influence over his girlfriend. "She's an acting teacher, for Christ's sake," he had told Marilyn. "Why do you treat her like she's a psychiatrist?" Marilyn said that he just didn't understand. She was right about that-he didn't. Pretty much from the moment Joe and Natasha met, it was all-out war between them.

From November 1952 through February 1953, Marilyn Monroe would be at work on one of her most memorable movies, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

Fox spared no expense in its transfer of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes from stage to screen-from ch.o.r.eographer Jack Cole's staging of the spectacular pre-credits opening number with Jane Russell and Monroe singing and dancing to "We're Just Two Little Girls from Little Rock," identically gowned head to toe in shimmery red sequins, to the reprise of the song in the final scene where the two stars are again dressed identically for a double wedding ceremony in blinding white gowns of figure-hugging lace applique, both by costumer Travilla, who surely must have been Bob Mackie's inspiration in his career. Russell was billed above Monroe in all the film's posters and publicity and in the opening credits. Russell was also first in money earned for this film, $400,000 to Monroe's $11,250 ($1,250 per week for nine weeks). Fox wasn't exactly kind to Marilyn. "I couldn't even get a dressing room," she would recall in 1962. "I said, finally-I really got to this kind of level-I said, 'Look, after all, I from stage to screen-from ch.o.r.eographer Jack Cole's staging of the spectacular pre-credits opening number with Jane Russell and Monroe singing and dancing to "We're Just Two Little Girls from Little Rock," identically gowned head to toe in shimmery red sequins, to the reprise of the song in the final scene where the two stars are again dressed identically for a double wedding ceremony in blinding white gowns of figure-hugging lace applique, both by costumer Travilla, who surely must have been Bob Mackie's inspiration in his career. Russell was billed above Monroe in all the film's posters and publicity and in the opening credits. Russell was also first in money earned for this film, $400,000 to Monroe's $11,250 ($1,250 per week for nine weeks). Fox wasn't exactly kind to Marilyn. "I couldn't even get a dressing room," she would recall in 1962. "I said, finally-I really got to this kind of level-I said, 'Look, after all, I am am the blonde and it is the blonde and it is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Because still they always kept saying, 'Remember you are not a star.' I said, 'Well, whatever I am, I am am the blonde!' " the blonde!' "

Throughout the shoot, Jane and Marilyn got along famously, with the five-years-older Russell protective of the insecure Monroe in the way of a big sister. Often all it took for Marilyn to be coaxed out of her trailer was a word from Jane. "She would be afraid to come out, she was so shy," Russell said, "but it was understandable in the sense that she never had to sing so much, dance so much. Then, of course, she had the acting teacher [Natasha Lytess] on set every moment, a woman who was such an annoyance, running Marilyn's life the way she did. I'm sure Marilyn did not need her on this movie... she would have been fine without her, if only she had more confidence in herself."

They may be just two little girls from Little Rock who come from the wrong side of the tracks, but Lorelei Lee (Monroe) and Dorothy Shaw (Russell) easily change their status to the right side of the tracks after they conquer Paris in search of a couple of men of means. Veteran director Howard Hawks guides the large cast through the tune-filled story of a beautiful blonde with a weakness for diamonds, and her equally lovely enabler. Lorelei's erstwhile fiance Esmond (Tommy Noonan) has financed the trip to Paris to test her fidelity. Suspicious of Lorelei's motives, Esmond the elder hires private eye Ernie Malone (Elliott Reid) to spy on the girls and report any suspicious activity back to him. And there's plenty to report, including charges leveled at Lorelei of grand larceny of a valuable tiara. Of course, she's guilty, and it remains for a French judge to set things right, but not before Dorothy shakes things up by posing as Lorelei. When her true ident.i.ty is called into question as she testifies in court, Jane Russell mounts a perfect impersonation of Marilyn's Lorelei, which includes a devastating, dead-on version of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend."

Marilyn's rendition of this song is the most lavish of all the production numbers in the film, again with ch.o.r.eography by Jack Cole, and with what seems like an army of tuxedoed chorus boys, one of whom turns out to be a teenage George Chakiris, with gray brushed into his temple hair. Though the picture was photographed with 35millimeter film, studio head Daryl Zanuck ordered the "Diamonds" production number to be reshot later in CinemaScope for use in a demonstration of the new process, held on the Fox lot in March 1953. Zanuck told Daily Variety Daily Variety that the CinemaScope reshoot was done in three and a half hours, as opposed to the four days it took for the original version. That would stand to reason, considering the number had already been blocked and rehea.r.s.ed. that the CinemaScope reshoot was done in three and a half hours, as opposed to the four days it took for the original version. That would stand to reason, considering the number had already been blocked and rehea.r.s.ed.

What's clear with this movie is not only Marilyn's sense of humor about herself but also her ability as a comedic actress. Monroe biographer Donald Spoto put it this way: "She put a twist on s.e.xiness. It was not something wicked and shameful and shocking and dirty and embarra.s.sing. It was something which was terribly funny. And Marilyn enjoyed it."

Hugh Hefner, founder of Playboy Playboy magazine, added, "In retrospect, although the fifties is clearly a time of very real political repression and social s.e.xual repression, you can see those early signs of changing values, and Monroe was clearly a part of that." magazine, added, "In retrospect, although the fifties is clearly a time of very real political repression and social s.e.xual repression, you can see those early signs of changing values, and Monroe was clearly a part of that."

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes premiered on July 15, 1953, with both Jane's and Marilyn's hand- and footprints enshrined in the fore-court of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. It opened nationwide three days later to great reviews and big box-office returns, earning more than $12 million in its initial run. premiered on July 15, 1953, with both Jane's and Marilyn's hand- and footprints enshrined in the fore-court of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. It opened nationwide three days later to great reviews and big box-office returns, earning more than $12 million in its initial run.

Gladys Threatens Grace.

In November 1953 Gladys Baker received a ticket, arranged and paid by Marilyn, for transportation from Florida back to Los Angeles. Grace G.o.ddard had followed Marilyn's direction to book the arrangements, but it was her own decision to have Gladys travel by rail, not air. She may have been attempting to delay her friend's arrival in California since she would need to have her home prepared for it. Grace also needed to emotionally steel herself and her family for the possibility that Gladys might be bringing with her a trunkload of paranoia and confusion. She had heard from Berniece that Gladys had been having some "episodes." The long train ride turned out to be a torment for Gladys. As soon as the cab pulled up in front of Grace's house, she and Doc heard Gladys's screams. They ran to the front window and saw the poor cabdriver take her bags from the trunk of his vehicle, drop them on the front lawn, get back into his cab, and speed off as quickly as he could. It appeared that he didn't even wait to be paid! Gladys then marched toward the G.o.ddards' front door, shouting nonsensically about her awful train trip. "Torture!" she exclaimed. "Grace G.o.ddard, you wanted to torture me, and you succeeded! Now it's my turn."

Grace told Doc to get away from the window so that they could pretend they weren't home. Then she drew the curtains in a flash and ran for the telephone, dialing Marilyn's number as quickly as she could. Marilyn happened to be home and having a meeting with an accountant named Wesley Miller who worked for Wright, Wright, Green & Wright, the law firm that represented Marilyn at the time. When Marilyn answered, Grace quickly explained what was going on, that Gladys had just pulled up and was frantic. She said that she had never seen her in such bad shape. Then she held the phone up to the front window so that Marilyn could hear her mother's shouting: "I'll show you torture, Grace! Open up this door!"

"I recall that Marilyn and Grace stayed on the phone for a time," said Wesley Miller, "with Grace reporting Gladys's every move. Marilyn said she hoped her mother would eventually calm down, and I think she did. However, from what I later gathered, when Grace walked toward the front porch, she could clearly hear Gladys speaking, as if in a one-sided conversation. She was mumbling something about being 'put on a train like a child,' with all of the other pa.s.sengers staring at her for the entire trip. 'Eyes everywhere, for days on end...' is what Marilyn later told me she was repeating, nonstop."

The story continued, as per the recollections of the princ.i.p.al players: After whispering her report of the unfolding events, Grace stopped and listened. "Wait," she said, "someone else is out there. Hold on." Grace and Doc each peeked through a curtain and watched as a nearby resident, who had obviously heard the commotion, approached. Gladys greeted him angrily. The neighbor explained that he had grown concerned when he heard all the shouting. At that, Gladys became even more irate, asking if the man "owned" Los Angeles and demanding to know "is this your air I'm breathing, too?" Grace listened as Gladys's voice trailed off. She then followed the man off the property. Doc ran to the kitchen and out the back door saying he would try to keep on eye on Gladys.

"Meanwhile, Marilyn asked Grace not to call the authorities, saying she would be right over," recalled Wesley Miller. " 'Just don't let her leave,' she said of her mother before clicking off. I said, 'You are not going there alone, Marilyn. I'm coming with you.' And she said, 'No. This has to do with me and my mother. I can handle it on my own.' She then ran out of the house. I sat in her living room thinking, 'Oh, I should definitely have insisted. I should have insisted...' "

Marilyn jumped into her car. After speeding through stoplights and weaving in and out of traffic, she finally reached her destination: a Los Angeles police precinct. She screeched onto a lot that was meant only for official vehicles.

"It's not every day people came in that way," explained a retired Los Angeles police officer. "When she got out, I actually drew my gun-but as soon as you saw her you knew who she was."

Marilyn asked the patrolman to direct her to "whoever the man in charge is," and despite her illegal and alarming arrival, the awestruck officer brought her inside the building and to a police captain.

"She was crying when she walked in the office," explained the officer. "She said her mother was sick and that she'd been sent to a mental hospital before, so I knew where this was headed."

Marilyn further explained that Gladys was easily frightened. She asked if the captain could simply call an ambulance to quietly approach Grace's home and collect her mother without too much angst. "He felt bad for her, but there were procedures," the officer recalled of the captain. "He had to send a [patrol] car first... try and talk to her first-and that was me." The captain also explained to Marilyn that a specific officer was trained to respond to what he called "psych calls," and then he directed the officer to contact that specialist. "I called Teddy [the 'specialist'], who was supposed to be going to a kid's ball game that day, and told him that Marilyn Monroe was sitting across from me," said the officer. "He said he'd have his uniform on before he hung up the phone."

While waiting for the responding officer to arrive at the precinct, Marilyn called Grace. Gladys was still in front of the house, she reported, and neighbors had been calling, asking if she was all right. Marilyn explained that there would be two patrol cars arriving, with no no sirens. "She just wanted it quiet," the officer recalls. "I told her she could see for herself that everything would be okay. We'll follow Teddy and his partner, I told her, and she could see how good he was. He had a talent, that guy." sirens. "She just wanted it quiet," the officer recalls. "I told her she could see for herself that everything would be okay. We'll follow Teddy and his partner, I told her, and she could see how good he was. He had a talent, that guy."

In a matter of minutes, two police cars were rolling toward Grace G.o.ddard's home. In the first was Teddy and his partner, and in the second a police officer and a movie star. "When we turned onto the block we slowed the cars," the officer explained, "Marilyn just kind of slid down in her seat." The two vehicles parked one house away from Grace's, from which vantage point they could see Gladys sitting on the front steps, arms crossed and appearing calm. The officer from the first car-Teddy-then approached her. The captain and Marilyn couldn't hear what was being said, but it was quickly evident from Gladys's expression and tone that she was now agitated at the sight of the uniformed patrolman. "I picked up the radio right away and called [for an ambulance], and I told Marilyn it was gonna be quick," recalled the officer who had been sitting with her.

Marilyn sat quietly watching as the other officer successfully calmed Gladys.

"I got out of my car to give Teddy a quick signal that the ambulance was on the way," the first policeman remembered, "and by the time I got back, the street was filling up."

Indeed, neighborhood residents who had witnessed Gladys's antics of the past hour from behind pulled curtains were now brave enough to get a closer look. As the first officer returned to his vehicle, he saw an odd sight: Marilyn had taken the jacket of an extra police uniform in the car and pulled it up over her head.

When he got back into the car, Marilyn asked urgently, "Did they see me?"

"No, they're here to watch me," he said, "they're rubberneckers." He then asked Marilyn if she'd like to get out of the vehicle and speak to her mother. She decided against it, saying that Gladys was clearly not herself at that moment, "and what good will it do?"

The two then waited as an ambulance drove up quietly. "Did you ask them not to use their sirens?" Marilyn asked. He said that he had. She then placed her hand on his knee. "You're a kind man," she told him. They watched as Gladys Baker-still very upset-was strapped onto a gurney and lifted into the ambulance. As the ambulance slowly pa.s.sed their car, for just a moment they could hear the shouts of an insane woman coming from inside it. Marilyn winced and pulled the coat still on her head tightly down over her ears.

As the police officer and Marilyn followed the ambulance, not a word was said between them. Finally, Marilyn took the jacket off, studied it carefully, and softly brushed away some locks of hair left on its lining. "I asked her if she was okay," recalled the policeman, "and she just kind of laughed for a moment." They watched while the ambulance made a right turn, toward its destination.

As they drove back to the police precinct, the policeman and the actress continued to maintain their silence. Finally, Marilyn sighed deeply. "No one understands," she said, her voice softening, "some people just can't help who they turn out to be."

Gladys's New Home.

On February 9, 1953, Marilyn Monroe was scheduled to attend the Photoplay Awards, where she was being honored as "Fastest Rising Star." A relative recalls that she didn't want to go: "She didn't think she could pull it off, be what was expected of her-become Marilyn Monroe-under the circ.u.mstances of what else was going on that day."

Indeed, it was a difficult day.

That very same morning, Gladys was moved to Rock Haven Sanitarium at 2713 Honolulu Avenue in La Crescenta, California. It was a sprawling, Mexican-style complex on three and a half lush acres behind two gigantic iron gates with the metal words "Rock Haven" on top of the impressive entryway. Marvina Williams was eighteen at the time and had just been hired as an aide there. "It was a wonderful place," she recalled. "Actually it was also called the Screen Actor's Sanitarium, even though not a lot of movie stars stayed there. The only ones we all knew of were Frances Farmer and Florenz Ziegfeld. We got fan mail for them for years after they were gone. [Note: Actress Billie Burke, who had been married to Ziegfeld and was known for her role as Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz The Wizard of Oz-was also a patient in the 1960s.] When I worked there, we had forty-two guests-we called them guests, by the way. We had forty-two beds, too, so it was full. Just before Gladys came in, someone had died-virtually the day before, actually. Gladys had been on the bottom of a very long waiting list, but when they found out she was Marilyn Monroe's mother, they moved her to the top-not fair, but the truth."

Though it was many years ago, Williams has distinct memories about Gladys because, as she put it, "There was something about her-you just felt so badly for her, I guess because you knew she was Marilyn Monroe's mother. When I heard that she had been out of a sanitarium for seven years, I simply couldn't believe it. I don't think she was being properly medicated when she was on her own. On the day she showed up, I remember her saying that she had called her daughters-one, I think, was in Florida [Berniece], and she said the other was Marilyn Monroe. She said she had talked to Marilyn that day and that Marilyn said she was coming to get her. 'I won't be here long because Marilyn Monroe is coming for me,' she kept saying. It seemed so tragic, the way she kept referring to her daughter as 'Marilyn Monroe.' I remember that there were some people who didn't believe it was true that Marilyn was her daughter. Then someone came in with a newspaper article and we pa.s.sed it around. There was a lot of astonishment about it."

"Marilyn had, that same morning, agreed to pay for Gladys's care in the new facility," recalled accountant Wesley Miller. "However, she didn't want to see her mother in a mental hospital any more than Gladys wanted to be there, but there was no alternative. It was this second stay-the one that happened in 1953-that really tore at Marilyn.

"She told me that she remembered visiting Gladys at the other inst.i.tution when she was a young girl, and she never forgot how horrible it had been. She told me that there were patients in the hallways in beds and that the place smelled of urine. She said that everyone was dazed and on drugs, that she heard people screaming and that she just wanted to get her mother out of there. She said that she had nightmares about it all the time, that the memory of her mother in that place haunted her. She didn't want her to end up back in a place like that, she said. Also, she said that the whole thing brought back memories of her own time in an orphanage, memories she said she had been working to forget.

"Apparently, she and her aunt Grace had earlier visited Rock Haven and thought the conditions were much, much better. She said that there were fresh flowers on all of the tables-very lovely. But, still, the patients were frightening and, she said, so drugged they were 'walking around like zombies.' She said that she spoke to one woman who recognized her and told her that she was 'evil' for making the kinds of movies she made.

" 'I don't know how to deal with this,' she told me. 'I don't know how to do what I have to do, have my career and all it takes and have Joe and all he takes, and do this, too, with Mother.' I actually thought, for the first time, that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It was too much. She was developing a strange nervous twitch and stuttering a lot. The trouble she had with Gladys this time... it really was too much for her to handle. I don't think Berniece was a lot of help. When I asked Marilyn about that, she said, 'She's got a family. I don't. I never have had one. So, let her live her life. I'm forced to live mine, and my mother is my burden.' "

Despite the awful circ.u.mstances of the day, Marilyn decided that she couldn't disappoint all of those who were expecting to see her at the Photoplay Awards. The show had to go on, she decided, even if she would have to force herself through it.

To accept her award that night, Marilyn decided to wear a slinky gold gown with a plunging neckline-of course-that was so formfitting its designer, Travilla, had to actually sew her into it. In fact, he suggested that she not even wear this particular dress because, in his opinion, it wasn't flattering on her. (Incidentally, Marilyn was very briefly seen in it in a long shot in Gentlemen. Gentlemen.) That very same week, Marilyn had made a deal with Joe that she would not wear gowns that were so revealing if he in turn laid off her where her career was concerned-and also about her relationship with Natasha. He said he would try if she would try, and she agreed. Apparently, she was about to break the deal. In fact, to make the dress even more provocative, she had decided on no bra and no panties. It was as if she were purposely defying Joe-and that's exactly how he took it when he found out about her plans. He was supposed to attend the show with her, but stormed away and took a plane to San Francisco. "I have enough on my mind," Marilyn said at the time. "Why this this, too? Why do I have to do Why do I have to do this this with him?" with him?"

How to Marry a Millionaire.

In mid-March 1953, at the same time that Marilyn moved into a new apartment on Doheny Drive in West Hollywood just outside of Beverly Hills, she began work on her next picture, How to Marry a Millionaire. How to Marry a Millionaire. The picture was shot in about six weeks (March 9end of April 1953). The picture was shot in about six weeks (March 9end of April 1953).

How to Marry a Millionaire has a provenance that goes all the way back to 1932 when Sam Goldwyn purchased the movie rights to Zoe Akins's Broadway play of the previous season, has a provenance that goes all the way back to 1932 when Sam Goldwyn purchased the movie rights to Zoe Akins's Broadway play of the previous season, The Greeks Had a Word for It The Greeks Had a Word for It, about three beautiful young gold diggers who set out in New York City to get their hooks into three wealthy men, reel them in, and navigate them down the bridal path. When the project was announced, it was said to be based on Doris Lilly's best seller of the same name, but the only thing the studio used was the book's t.i.tle.

The studio powers knew they would have to dress up the familiar plot with something spectacular, and that they did: Technicolor, CinemaScope, and stereophonic sound. In fact the film marked the first use of the new widescreen process, but the studio's prestige picture of 1953, The Robe The Robe, filmed after Millionaire Millionaire, was released to theaters before it, thus its claim to being the world's first Cinema-Scope film. Another untried tactic was used to give the picture heft, to make it feel "important"-Alfred Newman, the studio's musical director for twenty years by this time, was filmed conducting the 20th Century-Fox Symphony Orchestra on a soundstage dressed to look like an amphitheater, replete with Greek columns and blue sky, where they performed Newman's cla.s.sic paean to Manhattan, the soaring "Street Scene." It had been written for the film version of Elmer Rice's Broadway play of the same name twenty years earlier, and later became a musical signature for New York. After completing the conducting of "Street Scene," Newman turned and bowed to the camera, turned back to the orchestra, and gave the downbeat on the musical score of How to Marry a Millionaire How to Marry a Millionaire, as the film's credits rolled.

The film was produced and cowritten by Fox mainstay and Oscar-nominated screenwriter of The Grapes of Wrath The Grapes of Wrath, Nunnally Johnson, and directed by Jean Negulesco, also Oscar-nominated, as director of Johnny Belinda. Johnny Belinda. Costumes were by Travilla under the direction of wardrobe supervisor Charles LeMaire, with both eventually receiving Oscar nominations. Costumes were by Travilla under the direction of wardrobe supervisor Charles LeMaire, with both eventually receiving Oscar nominations.

When this movie was announced, the Hollywood press rubbed its collective hands together, practically salivating for a dustup between the queen of the Fox lot, Betty Grable, and the pretender to the throne-Marilyn Monroe. But they would be disappointed. They had not calculated the genuine unselfishness of Grable toward her ten-years-younger costar. In fact, she told the press that Marilyn "was a shot in the arm for Hollywood."

Later, on the set during the shoot of Millionaire Millionaire in front of witnesses, Betty reportedly told Marilyn, "Honey, I've had it. Go get yours. It's your turn now." If Betty now felt she was playing second fiddle to the upstart Marilyn, it was something she apparently felt no need to articulate. in front of witnesses, Betty reportedly told Marilyn, "Honey, I've had it. Go get yours. It's your turn now." If Betty now felt she was playing second fiddle to the upstart Marilyn, it was something she apparently felt no need to articulate.

The situation with Lauren Bacall was different. Only two years older than Marilyn, Bacall was a disciplined actress; she had been a star since she was nineteen and was said to be put off by Marilyn's constant tardiness on the set, but she remained quiet and did not make an issue of it. But in her autobiography, By Myself By Myself, Bacall wrote about how irritating it was with Marilyn, prompted by Natasha Lytess sitting just off camera, calling for take after take, "often as many as 15 or more." She wrote that she didn't dislike Marilyn; that she had no meanness in her, no b.i.t.c.hery. "There was something sad about her," Bacall wrote.

Still, Marilyn's comic genius was on full display in How to Marry a Millionaire How to Marry a Millionaire, as she achieved a level of physical comedy so subtle as to be almost invisible. Playing her nearsightedness for all it was worth, her s.e.xy vulnerability raised the humor to new heights as she tripped over stairs and b.u.mped into walls, her dignity intact. How to Marry a Millionaire How to Marry a Millionaire would premiere in New York on October 29, and open nationally on November 5. It would wind up as the second highest grossing movie of 1953, after Columbia's would premiere in New York on October 29, and open nationally on November 5. It would wind up as the second highest grossing movie of 1953, after Columbia's From Here to Eternity. From Here to Eternity. The picture was a success with both the public and the critics, with Marilyn being singled out in the reviews for her beauty and comic timing. Over the years, Marilyn's biographers and industry insiders have maintained that her true calling was comedy, and when one rea.s.sesses the Monroe filmography, it is hard to argue against that point. The picture was a success with both the public and the critics, with Marilyn being singled out in the reviews for her beauty and comic timing. Over the years, Marilyn's biographers and industry insiders have maintained that her true calling was comedy, and when one rea.s.sesses the Monroe filmography, it is hard to argue against that point.

River of No Return.

Also at about this time, Marilyn made another film, River of No Return River of No Return, with Robert Mitchum, directed by Otto Preminger.