You are one of the truly great young actors

In 1940, Laird Cregar portrayed Oscar Wilde on the stage to great acclaim, attracting the attention of 20th Century-Fox who signed him to a contract. Someone who was also enthusiastic about Cregar's stage performance was John Barrymore, an actor who had been Cregar's idol since childhood. In the fall of 1941, Cregar starred in another play, The Man Who Came to Dinner, and again Barrymore was excited about his performance. Barrymore was so impressed with the acting abilities of the young actor that he wrote Cregar a fan letter, calling him one of the most talented actors the stage had produced in years.

When Cregar received Barrymore's letter, he was over the moon to get such praise from the actor he had always admired and idolised. Cregar treasured the letter and even had the studio photograph it and add it to his portfolio. Proud and thankful for Barrymore's praise, Cregar decided to host a dinner party in honour of his idol. According to Gregory William Mank's biography Laird Cregar: A Hollywood Tragedy (2017), what should have been a joyous occasion turned into a nightmare. The guest of honour showed up very late and very drunk, insulting both Cregar and his mother. Cregar was devastated and the next day at the studio, still upset, he was heard sobbing in his dressing room. (Of course I was curious to know what had happened next -- did they meet again, did Barrymore apologise? -- but searching the web, alas I found nothing.)

Seen below is the letter Barrymore wrote to Cregar, lauding him as one of the greatest upcoming new actors. Sadly, Cregar would have a short career, starring in a few plays and 16 films (among them I Wake Up Screaming (1941), This Gun for Hire (1942), The Lodger (1944) and Hangover Square (1945)). In order to lose weight for what was to be his last role in Hangover Square (the only time he had first billing), Cregar had followed a crash diet which caused serious abdominal problems. He underwent surgery but then suffered a massive heart attack a few days later. Cregar died on 9 December 1944, only 31 years old. 

Source: Greenbriar Picture Shows

Transcript:

Laird- my Boy-

I've said it to the Masquers, and there is no possible reason why I shouldn't repeat it to you. I may jest about the absurdities of life, but Acting is a sacred subject to me and I say this in deadly earnestness:

You are one of the truly great young actors our stage has produced in the last ten years.

I have watched with vast enjoyment your work in "Oscar Wilde" and "The Man who came to Dinner" and saw with delight and humility - the quality that makes great actors. 

Believe me

most sincerely 

John Barrymore

Above: Laird Cregar in (from left to right) I Wake Up Screaming, This Gun for Hire and The Lodger. Below: Cregar in his final film Hangover Square with Linda Darnell; the film was released in February 1945, two months after Cregar's death.

80 Years of "Dark Victory": Spencer Tracy was born to play this part

Edmund Goulding's successful weepie Dark Victory is one of the many great films from 1939 celebrating its 80th anniversary this year. In a nutshell, the film is about a young, spoiled socialite who is terminally ill and falls in love with her doctor. Bette Davis stars as the socialite Judith Traherne, a role originally played by Tallulah Bankhead on the stage. (The original play Dark Victory, written by George Brewer Jr. and Bertram Bloch, only had a short run on Broadway in 1934.)

Before Bette's studio Warner Bros. purchased the movie rights, the rights were owned by producer David O. Selznick who had bought Dark Victory as a vehicle for Greta Garbo in 1935. Garbo, however, chose to do Anna Karenina (1935) instead and the next few years Selznick tried unsuccessfully to cast his picture while also facing problems with the script. Warners eventually bought the property from Selznick in the spring of 1938. Studio boss Jack Warner was at first uninterested in the story -- a film about a heroine dying of brain cancer surely couldn't be good for business -- but he was eventually persuaded by associate producer David Lewis and screenwriter Casey Robinson to take the film off Selznick's hands. 

Dark Victory was initially acquired by Warner Bros. as a vehicle for Kay Francis. Due to her row with the studio, however, Francis was demoted to doing Comet over Broadway (1938), which Bette had rejected, and Bette got to play the coveted role of Judith Traherne, a role she would later call her personal favourite among the many roles she had played.

As her leading man, Bette wanted her former co-star Spencer Tracy with whom she had played in 20,000 Years in Sing Sing (1932). She had enjoyed their collaboration immensely and longed to work with Tracy again, hoping that Dark Victory would be their next film together. Not only Bette but also screenwriter Casey Robinson wanted Tracy who was under contract to MGM. Robinson thought the success of the film depended on the proper casting of Dr. Frederick Steele, feeling that Tracy was the perfect man to play him. In a letter to producer Hal Wallis dated August 1938 (as seen below) Robinson urged Wallis to do everything he could to land Tracy for the role. In the end, however, Tracy was loaned to 20th Century-Fox to do Stanley and Livingstone (1940) and was thus unavailable. Bette never made a film with Tracy again. She did say in later years that he was the finest actor she had ever worked with. 

The man who was eventually cast as Dr. Steele was George Brent, with whom Bette had played many times before. Dark Victory was their eighth film together and during production the two began an affair which lasted well after shooting had finished. In the end, the two made a total of 11 films together. Bette reportedly said that of all her leading men Brent was her favourite.

While Bette didn't get to play with Spencer Tracy in the film version of Dark Victory, they did perform together in an adaptation of the film for the Lux Radio Theatre, which aired in August 1940 before a live audience. It's really great to hear this version with Tracy in Brent's role and to imagine how he would have played it on screen. I'm sure that Tracy would have handled some of the dramatic material better than Brent. Still, I love Brent and while he has his usual wooden moments, his overall performance in Dark Victory is fine. What I especially love is his natural and playful chemistry with Bette, in particular during their Vermont scenes (that they were real life lovers probably helped). In case you're interested in how Tracy handled the role on the radio, just go here.

TO: Hal Wallis 

FROM: Casey Robinson 

DATE: August 19, 1938 

SUBJECT: "Dark Victory" 

Dear Hal:

I note that at M.G.M. they have postponed Northwest Passage, leaving Spencer Tracy without an assignment. They are trying to put him into the Joan Crawford picture, but he is refusing the part [The Shining Hour]. That seems to leave him open for borrowing, and I plead with you to make every possible effort to land him. 

Please forgive my pushing my nose into casting which, strictly speaking, is not my concern, but you know that you and I have nurtured Dark Victory along for three years and I am concerned about it as I have never been concerned about any other picture. It is, above all things, a tender love story between a Long Island glamor girl and a simple, idealistic, more-or-less inarticulate New England doctor. If we don't capture this feeling in the proper casting of Doctor Steele, I know we will wind up with a tragic flop instead of a truly great picture. 

I don't know if you've found time yet to read the entire script, but if you have I'm sure you will agree with me that Tracy was born to play this part -- and of course I don't need to tell you what the combination of the names of Bette Davis and Spencer Tracy on the marquee would do to the box-office. 

Sincerely, 

Casey 

Source: Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951) (1985), selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Note
In April 1938, well before Bette Davis and George Brent played Judith Traherne and Dr. Steele, Barbara Stanwyck and Melvyn Douglas performed the roles on the radio, also for the Lux Radio Theatre. It's quite interesting to listen to this version as well, not only for Douglas in the role of the doctor (and to compare him with Brent and Tracy), but especially to get a sense of what Barbara would have done with the role had she been allowed to play it on screen. Barbara really wanted to star in the movie and was furious when Warner Bros. gave the role to Bette, one of Warners' own contract players. (Incidentally, this radio version is an adaptation of the play while the second radio version is an adaptation of the film.)

The Classic Movie Blog Association is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. To celebrate this milestone, the CMBA is holding The Anniversary Blogathon and this post is my contribution to it. For all the entries of my fellow CMBA-ers, just click here.

Book Review: Letters from Hollywood

Letters from Hollywood: Inside the Private World of Classic American Moviemaking is a gem of a book. Compiled and edited by author/producer Rocky Lang and film historian/archivist Barbara Hall, this beautiful-looking hardcover volume contains 137 pieces of classic Hollywood correspondence (letters, notes and telegrams), spanning five decades from the early 1920s through the 1970s. The correspondence not only comes from famous Hollywood stars like Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart, Greta Garbo or Joan Crawford, but also from people less known to the general public yet important to Hollywood history, e.g. Irving Thalberg, Will Hays and Joseph Breen. (And there are also letter writers and recipients I had never heard of, among them screenwriters and agents.) Introducing the letters, authors Lang and Hall provide ample background information so the reader understands the context in which they were written.

Below: Rocky Lang grew up in the film business having agent-turned-producer Jennings Lang and singer/actress Monica Lewis as parents (here they are photographed in 1968). When a letter from his father to agent H.N. Swanson was discovered, Rocky got the idea for Letters from Hollywood and also included his father's letter in the book.

For three years, Lang and Hall worked on the project, first searching archives and libraries for interesting correspondence and then trying to track down the copyright owners, which proved to be more difficult than they thought. Their hard work eventually resulted in a book that is beautifully designed (lovely book cover, great lay-out and beautiful hi-res images of the original correspondence), with the letters providing chronological snippets of Hollywood history as well as fascinating peeks into the private thoughts of some of Hollywood's biggest stars, directors, producers etc.. Perhaps not surprisingly, I am very excited about this book -- it's basically what I do on the web, but then presented in glorious book form -- feeling it's a must-have for classic Hollywood fans and a great addition to any film book collection.

Some of the letters in the book I was already familiar with, having posted them earlier on this blog. However, most of the correspondence was unknown to me as it was obtained from archives, libraries and private collections and thus hidden from the general public - until now. Not all the letters are equally interesting of course, but there are a lot of gems and to give you an idea, below are excerpts from some of my personal faves.

________

Ronald Colman to studio executive Abe Lehr about the transition to the talkies (August 1928):

With reference to the additional clause to the contract, - I would rather not sign this, at any rate just at present. Except as a scientific achievement, I am not sympathetic to this "sound" business. I feel, as so many do, that it is a mechanical resource, that it is a retrogressive and temporary digression in so far as it affects the art of motion picture acting, - in short that it does not properly belong to my particular work (of which naturally I must be the best judge).

Tallulah Bankhead to David Selznick about the Scarlett O'Hara role in Gone with the Wind (December 1936):

I want you to believe me when I say this letter is not written in any spirit of hurt, arrogance, or bad temper, and if these elements should creep in, it is only because I haven't a sufficient gift of words to express myself clearly. [...] As I see it, your wire to me means one thing- that if no one better comes along, I'll do. Well, that would be all well and good if I were a beginner at my job. It would be a wonderful thing to hope and wait for, but as this is not the case, I cannot see it that way, and I feel it only fair to tell you that I will not make any more tests, either silent or dialogue, for Scarlett O'Hara, on probation.

Hedda Hopper to friend Aileen Pringle about Citizen Kane (January 1941):

I've seen the picture, and it's foul. It doesn't leave Mr. Hearst with one redeeming feature. Nobody but Orson would have dared do a thing like that, and I personally hope it will never be shown on the screen, although they're going right ahead making plans for its release in February. 

Robert Sherwood to Samuel Goldwyn about writing the script for Glory for Me, later renamed The Best Years of Our Lives (August 1945):

I have been thinking a great deal about "Glory for Me" and have come to the conclusion that, in all fairness, I should recommend to you that we drop it. This is entirely due to the conviction that, by next Spring or next Fall, this subject will be terribly out of date. [...] I do not believe that more than a small minority of these men will still be afflicted with the war neuroses which are essential parts of all of the three characters in "Glory for Me", and I, therefore, think that this picture would arouse considerable resentment by suggesting that these three characters are designed to be typical of all returned servicemen.

Gilbert Roland to Clara Bow to whom he was once engaged (December 1949):

How is your Dad? I would like to see him. I always had a warm spot in my heart for him, even though many years ago he refused to let me marry you because I was making seventy-five dollars a week, and you three hundred -- and when I made three hundred, you made a Thousand, and when I made a thousand you made more. ad finitum, and so it goes, and that's the way it is...

Joan Crawford to friend Jane Kesner Ardmore about her meeting Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret in the company of Marilyn Monroe and Anita Ekberg (October 1956):

It was one of the most exciting moments I have ever had. Of course, I was not too happy about being presented with that group of people representing the Motion Picture Industry, such as Marilyn you-know-who, and Anita Ekberg. Incidentally, Marilyn and Anita were howled at because of their tight dresses - they could not walk off the stage. It was most embarrassing.

Paul Newman to William Wyler & Ray Stark after having been offered the male lead in Funny Girl (May 1967):

I am grateful for the offer and the interest, and I hope it doesn't seem like an act of arrogance to turn all that affection down, but the truth of the matter is that I can't sing a note, and as for that monster, the dance, suffice it to say that I have no flexibility below the ass at all -- I even have difficulty proving the paternity of my six children.

If you would like to read the entire letters and many more (in their original form) -- you can order a copy of Letters from Hollywood here or here.

Note

Rocky Lang contacted me in January 2018, asking if I knew of any letters that he and Barbara Hall might be able to use for their project. I made several suggestions and some of it ended up in the book. While my input is quite small, I am proud to have contributed to this great, unique book -- and seeing my name in the Acknowledgment section is pretty cool! 

The hottest tip I've got is a damn cold one

When filming on location, weather conditions are not always favourable. Anthony Mann's El Cid (1961) -- an epic film about the Spanish hero Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, aka El Cid, who freed Spain from the Moors in the 11th Century -- was almost entirely filmed on location in Spain. Charlton Heston, who played the titular role, found the weather in the Spanish mountains unbearably cold and complained about it in a letter to Mike Connolly, journalist for the Hollywood Reporter (seen below). Heston said he was not the only one suffering from the cold; his leading lady Sophia Loren suffered as well as did the horses and two extras even passed out due to the cold. Fortunately for Heston and the others, their next shooting location would be the Comunidad Valenciana where the weather was considerably warmer.

Incidentally, the mountain scenes were shot in the Guadarrama Mountains in the autonomous region of Castilla y León, which borders Extremadura where the ice cold weather supposedly came from. Several other locations in Castilla y León were also used, as well as locations in other regions such as Comunidad Valenciana, Castilla-La Mancha and Madrid. Studio scenes were filmed in the city of Madrid and Rome.

Above and below: Charlton Heston, Sophia Loren and director Anthony Mann on the set of El Cid.

Source: Icollector

Transcript:

January 9, 1961

Mr. Mike Connolly

Hollywood Reporter

6715 Sunset Blvd.

Hollywood 28, Calif.

Dear Mike:

It was  nice to hear from you, and don't worry about a correction. It's just that we all get paid more than we deserve in this end of the acting profession anyway; I hate to see it even further exaggerated. Probably my guilt-ridden conscience at work.

As for a scoop: the hottest tip I've got is a damn cold one: the weather. I now realize the rains in Spain stay mainly in that plain because they'd be solid ice in the mountains, where we've been shooting. The last time Sophia worked on location (she has very little to do there, fortunately) was one of the coldest days I've ever seen, and I come from Michigan! Especially at seven in the morning, when we lined up the dawn shot that started the day's work. A wind sharper than a Toledo blade knifed across the snow fields from Extremadura and really liked to kill us all; it's the first time I've ever seen horses buck in protest against working in the cold. My white stud, Babieca, was in a terrible temper, and Sophia was honestly unable to finish the day. Two extras, not quite so well-blanketed between takes as my horse and my leading lady, actually passed out from exposure, toppling off their horses with a tinkle of icy chain mail. The province where that weather came from was well named.. "Extremely tough" is right! No wonder all the conquistadores came from there; they just wanted to get away from home!! After Extremadura, the Peruvian Andes, the Panamanian jungle, and the Arizona desert must have seemed like so many summer resorts.

Otherwise, we progress. At the end of the month we go to the east coast south (ahhh, south!) of Barcelona, to finish off Sophia and then beseige [sic] Valencia. Wanna come kill a Moor or two? I can get you at least a  esquire's commission.

Is there any truth to the announcement that Hal [Wallis] is starring Elvis Presley in an all-colour, all-talkie remake of BROADWAY MELODY OF 1936??

As ever,

Signed "Chuck"

Charlton Heston

Darling Merle

Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon couldn't stand each other while making William Wyler's Wuthering Heights (1939). Although they had gotten along during production of the comedy The Divorce of Lady X (1938), their working relationship on Wuthering Heights was far from pleasant. Olivier had lobbied to get his then-lover and wife-to-be Vivien Leigh cast in the role of Cathy but producer Samuel Goldwyn wanted Oberon. (The supporting role of Isabella was offered to Leigh but she refused.) Olivier was unimpressed with Oberon's acting abilities and is said to have called her "an amateur", feeling that Leigh would have made a much better Cathy. Oberon, in turn, wasn't happy with Olivier either. During a kissing scene she accused him of spitting on her. When Olivier retorted "What's a little spit for Chrissake between actors? You bloody little idiot, how dare you speak to me...", Oberon fled the set crying and director Wyler made Olivier apologise to her.

Above: Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon as Heathcliff and Cathy in Wuthering Heights. Below: Vivien Leigh visits Olivier and Oberon on the set of Wuthering Heights.

In 1959, twenty years after Wuthering Heights, Merle Oberon contacted Olivier with regards to Shakespeare's Macbeth. As actor-director Olivier had done three successful Shakespeare film adaptations, Henry V (1944), Hamlet (1948) and Richard III (1955), and he desperately wanted to film Macbeth as well. However, his attempts to picturise the play had failed, mainly due to financial problems, and the project was shelved in 1958. When Olivier received Oberon's letter asking if he was interested in re-embarking on Macbeth, he was "touched and grateful" that she had thought of him, as he told her in his reply on 22 August 1959. Olivier didn't have time to do Macbeth, however, and wouldn't resume the project at a later date either. (While Olivier never made a film version of Macbeth, in 1955 he had starred in a much-praised stage production with himself in the title role and Vivien Leigh as Lady Macbeth.)

In his letter Olivier is quite affectionate towards Oberon. The hatchet between them had apparently been buried. 

Source: Bonhams

Transcript:

Stratford-on-Avon.

August 22nd. 1959.

Darling Merle,

Thank you so very much for your so sweet letter. I am deeply, deeply touched by your thinking of me and wishing to help in this way- and enormously grateful.

The trouble now is that I have got myself heavily booked up with other things. If the picture changes and it seems that I might be free for long enough to re-embark on "Macbeth", I will let you know, but right now it would not make sense to enter into discussions about it. So could we leave it like that for the time being?

Do please forgive this being in type, but things are hectic as always.

(added handwritten) I am so deeply touched and grateful for your infinite kindness, darling.

Ever your loving

L.

Miss Merle Oberon.

I must face the fact that you are married to Clark ...

Clark Gable was no fan of David Selznick -- to put it mildly. Ever since they had worked together on Night Flight (1933), Gable did not like nor trusted Selznick and hated the producer's relentless perfectionism. (Due to Selznick's constant changes, production of Night Flight had run weeks over schedule causing Gable to miss one of his beloved fishing trips.) Although Gable wasn't eager to work with Selznick again after Night Flight, they made three more films together, i.e. Dancing Lady (1933), Manhattan Melodrama (1934) and of course the epic Gone With the Wind (1939).

While Gable disliked Selznick, Selznick found Gable "a very nice fellow", but at the same time "a very suspicious one", a man who "very quickly and not infrequently [got] the notion in his head that people [were] taking advantage of him" (said Selznick in a 1939 memo). Selznick did his best to please Gable, especially during production of Gone With the Wind. For instance, when Gable complained about his ill-fitting costumes, Selznick commissioned Gable's favourite tailor Eddie Schmidt to provide Gable with a whole new wardrobe. Also, after George Cukor had been fired as director of GWTW, Gable's preferred director Victor Fleming (his longtime buddy) was hired to replace Cukor. But despite Selznick's actions to keep his star happy, Gable's hostility towards Selznick remained.

It was because of Gable that Selznick was reluctant to work again with Carole Lombard, Gable's wife from 1939 until her death in 1942. Lombard had a contract with Selznick for one more film following their collaboration on Nothing Sacred (1937) and Made for Each Other (1939). Seeing how Gable felt about him, however, Selznick wondered if another film with Gable's wife would be such a good idea. In a letter dated 22 January 1940, Selznick expressed his doubts to Lombard and, understanding the awkward position she was in, relieved her of the obligation to do another picture for him. While he mentioned a possible collaboration in the future, Selznick never worked with Lombard again. (Two years later Lombard was tragically killed in a plane crash.)

Above: Carole Lombard, Clark Gable and David Selznick-- also pictured below with Victor Fleming and Vivien Leigh.

January 22, 1940  

PERSONAL 

Dear Carole:   

I have received your messages through Myron [Selznick], and am anxious to get together on the [writer Norma] Krasna idea as soon as possible....  

Before we proceed, there is something I would like to discuss with you very frankly. Are you sure, Carole, that we should make another picture together? I know from countless sources how highly you think of me, both as a person and as a producer, and this is a source of great gratification to me. And I shall always look back on our past associations as among the most pleasant of my career. Certainly I have always held you up as the shining example of what a joy it can be to work with a star when that star appreciates a producer's problems and cooperates in their solution. But I must face the fact that you are married to Clark, and that Clark obviously feels quite differently about me.

I had hoped that my dealings with Clark on Gone With the Wind would once and for all disabuse him of any notions he had about me. I cannot think of any particular in which I could have gone further to make him happy in anything ranging from such details as his costumes to such important factors as the script and direction. I even cost myself a very substantial amount of money through keeping him idle, and paying his salary, in order to accommodate him on the schedule as he desired. All through the picture he was frank in expressing his suspicions that I intended to do him in, and I kept pleading with him to wait until the picture was finished and then tell me his opinion. I was under the impression that he was delighted with the final result, but he apparently disassociates me from this final result, if I am to judge from what has been reported back to me, and from items in the press. I regret all this more than I can say, because there has been nothing whatsoever on my side against Clark; and because, as I have repeatedly told him, he contributed in my opinion a really great performance to the effort that meant so much to me.

But if I couldn't and didn't satisfy Clark about myself, as person or producer, on Gone With the Wind, it is not likely that anything I could ever do with him or with his wife would change his opinion. On the contrary, it is much more likely that anything we did together would be regarded with suspicion by him; that you would forever have to be in the position of defending me and my moves to him; that if everything turned out all right, it would still not obviate any embarrassment you may be under through working with me, any more than Gone With the Wind did; and that, if, as can happen to everyone, things turned badly, he would have confirmation of his opinions and suspicions to point to.... Neither of us is used to such strained and peculiar situations as that on the night of the local opening of Gone With the Wind, when I like to believe we should have been in each other's arms. I certainly recognize the awkward position you are in, and cannot expect to come out on the right side when your loyalties are divided. And perhaps some day in the future, attitudes may change, as they do in this business, and it will again be possible for you to do a picture for me with the wholehearted pleasure that we once both knew in our endeavors.

The decision, however, is entirely yours. You would suffer much more from the repercussions in your personal life than would I; and I can stand it if you can. My principal thought in writing this letter is to tell you that freely, and with my blessings and steadfast affection, I will relieve you of your obligation to do a picture for me, provided only that I know in sufficient time to avoid making any commitments for it... And believe me, whichever way you decide, Carole Lombard can have no more earnest fan, personally or as an actress, than

Yours, affectionately and sincerely,

Source: Memo from David O. Selznick (1972); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Carole Lombard, director John Cromwell and David Selznick on the set of Made for Each Other (1939).

From the WWII battlefield to Donna Reed

During World War II, while being miles away from home, many American soldiers sent letters to their favourite actresses, asking them for pin-up photos and telling them about life on the war front. (It was during WWII that the term "pin-up" was coined, with soldiers literally pinning up photos on lockers and walls of barracks.) For the soldiers the pin-up actresses were a symbol of home, a reminder of what they were fighting for. For the actresses who posed for pin-up photos or wrote letters to lonely soldiers, it was a way to contribute to the war effort. The pin-ups were a huge morale booster for the troops, so it's no surprise that the creation and distribution of photos, magazines and calendars was encouraged by the US Army.

Probably the most famous pin-up actress during WWII was Betty Grable. Her now iconic photo (see left) was distributed to the troops in large numbers, five million copies having been provided by Grable's studio 20th Century-Fox. Other famous, sexy pin-up girls included Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner, Hedy Lamarr and Jane Russell. For a lot of soldiers, however, their favourite pin-up was not the sexy, sultry type but the type they'd most like to come home to. A farm girl from Iowa, Donna Reed belonged to the latter type. She was the girl next door who, according to biographer Jay Fultz, "probably came closer than any other actress to being the archetypal sweetheart, wife and mother".

Donna Reed's wholesome, ordinary girl image prompted many a soldier to write to her and confide in her, as if they were writing to a girl back home. After Reed's death in 1986, it came to light that she had kept about 350 letters from soldiers, secretly hidden in a shoebox. Reed's daughter Mary Owen, who made the letters public, said that her mother had never mentioned them. Still, they must have made an impact on young Donna, who was only 20 years old when America entered the war, about the same age as the majority of the soldiers.

One of the letters Donna Reed had kept in her shoebox was from Lieutenant Norman Klinker (as shown below). In April 1943, 24-year-old Klinker wrote to Reed after he had received a reply from her to an earlier letter. Stationed in North Africa, Klinker commented on his life on the front lines ("One thing I promise you - life on the battlefield is a wee bit different from the "movie" version"). The letter is especially poignant knowing that Klinker did not survive the war. He was killed in action in Italy on 6 January 1944.

Source: The New York Times

Transcript:

MISS DONNA REED
2304 S. BEVERLY GLEN
LOS ANGELES
CALIFORNIA

LT. N.P. KLINKER
91ST ARMO. F.A. BN.
APO 251, c/o PM, NYC
April 12th, I think

Dear Donna,

Have just received your letter from the eight of December. And believe me or no, it was the first piece of mail I have received in the past two months. By the sound of your tale, life in the old U.S. is not quite as fine as it used to be. But I honestly feel that it is better than eating the same 3 meals out of the same 3 C-Ration cans for a month or three.

We have been in action for some time here in North Africa, you see. Quite an interesting and a heartless life at one and the same time. One thing I promise you - life on the battlefield is a wee bit different from the "movie" version. Tough and bloody and dirty as it is at times. There is none of that grim and worried feeling so rampant in war pictures. It's a matter-of-fact life we live and talk here. And here for the first time no one has the "jitters." 

I hear you have done your part and done got married. Congratulations and good luck! See you in your next "pic."

Sincerely,

Norman Klinker

P.S. Can hardly wait for four years tho - no "pics" here.

This post is my contribution to THE WORLD WAR II BLOGATHON, hosted by MADDY LOVES HER CLASSIC FILMS and CINEMA ESSENTIALS. Click HERE and HERE to read all the entries!

The Politics of Marilyn Monroe

Marilyn Monroe's political flavour was decidedly left wing. Having grown up in poverty during the Great Depression, Marilyn always identified with the working class, feeling they were her kind of people. She was passionate about civil rights and a staunch defender of black equality. But while her views had always been left wing, Marilyn's political awareness only fully blossomed after she married playwright Arthur Miller in 1956. (Miller was a leftist too and particularly during their marriage, which ended in 1961, Marilyn often mixed with people who talked politics a lot.)

1960 was an election year, the year when John F. Kennedy was elected president of the USA. That same year, Marilyn became one of the founding members of the Hollywood branch of the Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy, and she was also appointed alternate delegate to Connecticut's state Democratic convention. Marilyn was clearly into politics that year, often engaging in political discussions with Lester Markel, a friend of hers and Sunday editor of The New York Times.

On 29 March 1960, Marilyn wrote to Markel, her interesting and at times humorous letter seen below. For the upcoming elections she mentions several potential presidential candidates, feeling that William O. Douglas (Justice of the Supreme Court) would make the best president. Since Marilyn realises that his being divorced poses a problem, she suggests Irish-Catholic John F. Kennedy as vice-president so Douglas could still get the Catholic vote. A supporter of the Communist struggle against capitalism and of Cuba's Fidel Castro, Marilyn goes on to criticise the US for not helping Cuba build a democracy after the revolution. After a few personal remarks, she concludes her letter with some fun slogans for the campaigns of the presidential candidates. Interesting to note is that Marilyn's slogan for Kennedy clearly shows that she had little faith in his becoming the Democratic nominee (Kennedy had announced his candidacy earlier that year).

Marilyn with Lester Markel (middle) during a visit to The New York Times in 1959.

Source: Julien's Live

Transcript:

March 29, 1960

Lester dear,

Here I am still in bed. I've been lying here thinking-- even of you. I bet you don't know how fond I am of you-  you're one of those ones that one could say anything one meant or wanted to to.

I loved the way the Sunday piece on [Irish playwright] O'Casey was handled and I think it was wonderful of you to tell people about his very human quality. We need to know about the few like him.

About our political conversation the other day: I take it back that there isn't anybody. What about Rockefeller? First of all he is a Republican like the New York Times, and secondly, and most interesting, he's more liberal than many of the Democrats. Maybe he could be developed? At this time, however, Humphrey might be the only one. But who knows since it's rather hard to find anything about him. (I have no particular paper in mind!) Of course, Stevenson might have made it, if he had been able to talk to people instead of professors. Of course, there hasn't been anyone like Nixon before because the rest of them at least had souls! Ideally, Justice William Douglas would be the best President, but he has been divorced so he couldn't make it -- but I've got an  idea -- how about Douglas for President and Kennedy for Vice-President, then the Catholics  who wouldn't have voted for Douglas would vote because of Kennedy so it wouldn't matter if he is so divorced! Then Stevenson could be Secretary of State!

Now, Lester, on Castro. You see, Lester, I was brought up to believe in democracy, and when the Cubans finally threw out Battista [sic] with so much bloodshed, the United States doesn't stand behind them and give them help or support even to develop democracy.  I can understand a "John Daly" on an American national broadcast making fun of Castro for having appeared at one of his country's national functions in a tuxedo. (I use the above as an example.) But the New York Times' responsibility to keep its readers informed - means in an unbiased way. I don't know, somehow I have always counted on The Times, and not entirely because you're there.

How are you, Lester? Did your amarillys bloom this year? Mine didn't - it's a little like me. But maybe there's still hope. How late do they bloom?

I hope Mrs. Markel is well. I take for granted she is happy since she sits at the foot of your table.

I am enclosing an unfinished letter to you that I didn't tear up. (Started in California).

About Arthur [Miller] and your Sunday piece. What do you want me to do- persuade him? Undue influence on my part wouldn't be quite hocky [sic] would it?

It's true I am in your building quite frequently mostly to see my wonderful doctor as your spies have already reported. I didn't want you to get a glimpse of me though until I was wearing my Somali leopard. I want you to think of me as a predatory animal.

Love and kisses,

P.S. Sloans for late '60:

"Nix on Nixon"

"Over the hump with Humphrey (?)"

"Stymied with Symington"

"Back to Boston by Xmas- Kennedy"

Don't worry, everything will be Jake

John Barrymore fell instantly in love with Dolores Costello after she had been cast as his co-star in The Sea Beast (1926). Still married to his second wife Blanche Oelrichs, Barrymore started an affair with Costello which eventually led to their marriage in November 1928. Barrymore and Costello had two children, daughter Dolores in 1930 and son John Drew in 1932. (With Oelrichs Barrymore also had a daughter, Diana, born in 1921.)

By 1934, the marriage was in serious trouble, mainly because of Barrymore's excessive drinking. Barrymore, addicted to alcohol since the age of fourteen, had been drinking continuously for two years (according to Costello) and began to experience several alcohol-related health issues, both physical and mental. Afraid that his wife was going to declare him mentally incompetent, Barrymore left Los Angeles in the fall of 1934, travelling to England to work and afterwards spending time in India. He came back to the US at the end of January 1935, not returning to Costello in LA but settling in New York instead. There, a month later, Barrymore fell ill and was admitted to a hospital where he was visited by a 19-year-old fan, Elaine Jacobs. The two became friends and started a much-publicised relationship. Jacobs (later Barrie) eventually became Barrymore's fourth and last wife.

Dolores Costello filed for divorce on grounds of "cruelty and habitual intemperance" in May 1935, demanding custody of the children and financial support. Later that year, in October, Costello filed a new suit, dropping the original charge of cruelty while accusing Barrymore only of desertion. The divorce was a bitter financial fight, nevertheless Costello said in a later interview: "Whenever I think of John, it is with great compassion". 

While Costello is said to have initiated the divorce proceedings, a letter from John Barrymore (as seen below) indicates that he had asked her for a divorce several months before she officially filed for it. The letter, written on 8 February 1935, is quite respectful and courteous, with Barrymore asking Costello for a quick settlement of the legal matters "in as friendly a fashion as possible". The divorce between Barrymore and Costello was ultimately finalised in October 1936.

Above: Lionel and John photographed at the Hollywood opening of Don Juan in 1926. Below: John, Ethel and Lionel in 1904.

The day after he had written to his wife, John Barrymore also wrote a letter to his four-year-older brother Lionel, this letter obviously quite different in tone. From what I've read online, John adored and was very much in awe of his big brother. (Later Lionel would dismiss this as nonsense: "He was awed by only one person in the world, the same person who awed me: Ethel.") It seems only natural that John would discuss his impending divorce with Lionel, although he didn't really say much about it in the letter, feeling his brother could supply most of it himself. In any case Lionel was not to worry, said John, assuring him that everything would be fine.

Incidentally, John and Ethel called Lionel "Mike" and John was usually called "Jack" or "Jake".

Source: icollector.com

Transcript:

Hotel New Yorker
New York
Feb. 7. 1935

Dear Dolores:

This is rather a difficult letter to write to you but believe me I do it after having considered everything very deeply. We might as well face the fact like two civilized people that it is quite evident for your own happiness as well as mine that our life together has come to an end. In fact as you know our proper relationship as husband and wife really terminated about a year ago. Therefore let us get together to make the necessary legal arrangements in as friendly a fashion as possible for our own sakes as well as for the children. I think the sooner this is started the better, and as certain picture negotations require me to remain in New York for the present I have asked Senator McAdoo's partner in Los Angeles, Col. W. H. Neblett, to act as my legal representative to hand you this letter and to meet you to discuss some plan by which we can get our affairs in order.

I hope that in a few weeks I can settle the business matters that keep me here now, and come to California to see you and the children before going again to England. But meanwhile I hope that rapid progress can be made in settlement of our problems, as the English picture may start sooner than is now planned.

Jack

Source: icollector.com

Transcript:

Febr. 8. 1935

Dear Mike -

You know I can't put in a god damned letter, which are foul things anyway, one tenth of what I want to say to you, but I don't think that's so damned necessary as you can supply most of it yourself. The whole thing is cold, and worse than that, and from something I vaugely [sic] remember before I was even married to the shrimp. When we were together at the Ambassador you won't be unduly surprised!! Nobody knows better than you how difficult in a way these kind of letters are to write, but I know I don't have to write you anything as your bean and your soul don't need it.

Everything is all right and I feel fine. Ever so much love to you Mike. Give my best love and thanks to Irene*-  and don't worry
Everything will be Jake.
Much love
Jack


*Note
Irene Fenwick was Lionel's wife from 1923 until her early death in 1936. Before she became involved with Lionel, Irene had dated John. Lionel's marriage to Irene caused a rift between the brothers who didn't speak to each other for a few years. When Irene died of anorexia at age 49, John was a big support to Lionel taking over his role of Scrooge on the radio.

(l-r) Lionel Barrymore, Irene Fenwick, Dolores Costello and John Barrymore in Palm Springs in February 1933.


THIS POST IS MY CONTRIBUTION TO "THE FIFTH ANNUAL BARRYMORE TRILOGY BLOGATHON", CO-HOSTED BY IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD AND PALE WRITER. CLICK ON EITHER LINK TO READ THE OTHER ENTRIES!