HISTORY LESSON: Hollywood at War

Bob Hope performs for the boys in Sicily, 1943.

For a brief period, film existed solely as a pure artistic venture blended with scientific innovation. Almost immediately, this sanctity was corrupted by business, which both heightened its possibilities and tangled its intentions. Cinema as a propaganda device was always forthcoming, but despite the expected birth of celebrity product endorsements, the most influential collision of stardom and salesmanship didn't occur until the Great War. The different ages of American War have revealed themselves in various ways through our movies, but perhaps the most interesting moments occurred not in the later rallying, reactionary cries of the Vietnam or Korean Wars, but in the earlier calls to arms of WWI and WWII. This equally paranoid and frightful time produced in Hollywood a profound moment of unity, patriotism, and brotherhood. On the screen or behind the cameras, an attitude of "One for all, and all for one" reigned supreme. The movies of the day were used to relay this message, as did its stars, who for once proudly took a back seat to the Stars (and Stripes) of the American Flag. Though contention and doubts did exist, an indestructible, unified front was always presented, which was perhaps simply due to the source of the battles being waged-- particularly the genocidal WWII. In a continuing celebration of Independence Day, here is a look back the impact of war on Hollywood, and the impact of Hollywood on the war.

While the Revolutionary War called upon a young and insecure landscape to defy its tormentors (and sometimes its own inhabitants) in order to proclaim itself a union, and the Civil War pitted brother against brother when incongruous versions of scruples and ethics threatened to tear the country apart, The Great War was entered into willingly by a freshly healed and newly thriving society. Its effect would render America not only unarguably the most powerful nation in the world, but-- as it was the lone combatant to emerge without war torn soil-- it too would rise victoriously as the film capital of the world. During a period of low economic peril that would lead to the euphoria of the roaring twenties, the strength and positivity of the nation was echoed loudly through its silent film players. Most memorably, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Charlie Chaplin would embark on a tour selling war bonds (left), using their popularity and charisma to maintain and enhance the country's participation in the movement. The films of the time showcased their dedication, such as Mary Pickford's The Little American, which put America's Sweetheart right in the throes of German atrocities. The picture was passionately directed by Cecil B. DeMille-- a strong supporter of both the war movement and the armed forces-- who had in fact established the Home Guard, via Famous Players-Lasky, as its Captain when the war began in April of 1917. Yet, it is Douglas Fairbanks who was perhaps most indicative of American patriotism at the time. Healthy, virile, in incredible shape, and possessing both an optimistic spirit and a zest for life-- which, if canistered, could probably have provided enough energy to power a large city for 100 years-- "Mr. Pep" was the era's masculine ideal. He proudly made several short propaganda films to get his brethren in the spirit of battle, such as Swat the Kaiser and Sick 'em Sam.

Chaplin too did a great deal to express his feelings about the war, but as a more calculating aesthete and a true humanitarian, his efforts most often revealed themselves through his own compelling work. The strongest statement he ever made about war came about prior to WWII in his defiant, tragicomic masterpiece The Great Dictator (right). While many remained blind to or even embraced the shocking new stratagems of Adolf Hitler during his rise to power, Charlie always remained aghast, dismayed, and disgusted by the Fascist's lunacy. When Hitler's administration mutated into abject madness, Chaplin was not surprised, and The Great Dictator became his impassioned wake up call to America. The artistry of the film remains pure poetry, yet at the time its honesty was under-appreciated: Hitler banned it in Germany and all other Nazi-occupied countries. It was the presence of Hitler, recalled quite accurately as one of the most crazed and demonic beings to ever live, that propelled Hollywood more emphatically into its support of the war, making WWII even moreso than WWI an interesting period to look at cinematically. While it was a Japanese attack that pulled America directly into battle, it was Naziism that more accurately identified the threat of the times. Yet, after the tragedies and losses of the Great War, there was a still a hesitant skepticism about entering into another foreign battle. Not surprisingly, most early support was coming from British actors like Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, whose homeland was already suffering graphic actualities that America was only theoretically pondering. Then, the eternal day of infamy arrived at Pearl Harbor and erased all doubts. America went to war with a vigor that has yet to be matched.

A very vocal spokesperson at the beginning of America's entrance into WWII was Carole Lombard (selling bonds, left). Everyone's favorite and most beautiful kook definitely had a serious side when it came to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. She gave her staunch support to the cause and went on a nationwide war bond tour for which she was able to raise over $2 million in one day. Her shocking death while on her way home from this tour had a great impact on the American people in general but most specifically on her Hollywood friends. Jack Benny couldn't even bring himself to perform his radio show when he heard the news. Respectfully, Carole was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by FDR and given the notoriety of being the first woman killed in the line of duty. Carole had been prodding husband Clark Gable to enlist since before the war even began, but he-- fearing that he was not cut out for it-- had demurred. After her death and in honor of it, he did indeed enlist and, as many in his regiment would attest, started volunteering for the most dangerous missions. While fighting, he wore a locket containing the last remnants of his beloved wife: a few sparse pieces of her jewelry collected from the crash site.

Clark was not the only member of the Hollywood community to serve heroically. A large portion of the male actors fought, including Douglas Fairbanks, Jr (who enlisted before war was even declared), Henry Fonda, Glenn Ford, Robert Montgomery, Tyrone Power (right), David Niven, Alan Hale, Mickey Rooney, William Holden, etc. Jimmy Stewart, who had to sweet-talk his way into the war (due to the fact that he was underweight), would become the most decorated actor to ever serve his country. Directors like John Huston, George Stevens, and Frank Capra too contributed by going overseas and filming raw footage, which was subsequently compiled for newsreels and war documentaries. This is not to imply that these fellas were blithely fearless. The old paranoia remained, which is perhaps why Jack Warner, fearful that his studio would be misconstrued from the sky as an army base, had "LOCKHEED" painted on the roofs in large, bold letters. However, the war department demanded that he have the label removed. This was an obvious overreaction on the mogul's part, but there was reason to worry. War is a very real thing, after all. Leslie Howard became another Saint of the cause, joining Lombard, when he and sixteen others were shot down by the Germans when flying over the Bay of Biscay.

The women also did what they could in terms of entertaining the troops, participating in war bond rallies, and making public service announcements and war propaganda advertisements. Veronica Lake (right) participated in a memorable campaign that persuaded women to wear their hair up at the factories, where so many females were seeking employment during the war effort. It turns out, too many of their copied, peek-a-boo hairstyles were getting caught in the machines! War was about social fusion not fashion! (However, it could be argued that this was a mere publicity ploy to publicize Paramount's latest, sexy star). Actresses too encouraged their sisters to ration supplies, including their precious silk stockings. Rarely recalled, as well, is the fact that a young Audrey Hepburn was a courier for resistance fighters in Holland at this time. 

However, there were some men who were unable to serve due to various injuries, ailments, or simply their age. If these reasons were explained thoroughly enough by the press, the public forgave the trespasses, but there was occasional, savage hostility directed at the men whose absence from the front identified them as cowardly or emasculate. Errol Flynn irritatingly received a 4F classification from the army-- a crushing blow to such a screen hero-- due to the ravages of past and recurring illnesses. His lung was marred by an unmistakable shadow-- an effect of TB-- and he too suffered recurring bouts of malaria. There also were alleged problems with his heart, though it was only after he was refused entree into the army that it was truly broken. (He does his part for the effort in The Dawn Patrol with David Niven, left). John Wayne was too left out of the loop due to an old knee injury, and Van Johnson's recent car crash and head injury extricated him from combat. Left at home, these boys carried on the tradition of screen heroism, and their careers boomed as Hollywood churned out more and more patriotically themed films.

John Garfield was another macho guy, ironically left behind due to his weak heart. Frustrated by inactivity, he yearned for a way to do something special for the war effort. He decided to team up with friend Bette Davis (left, serving her autograph to a serviceman) to form the Hollywood Canteen, the dream oasis and dance hall for soldiers with a night off. Instead of cruising around to the nearest local bar, fighters lucky enough to have landed in Hollywood now had a chance to go to the infamous Canteen and talk to, be served by, and even dance with, some of the most famous stars of the silver screen. This memorable hot spot is but one of many examples of Hollywood's selflessness during the war. The way these different celebrities turned the spotlight away from themselves and onto the brave men serving their country added a great deal of gravity and character into an industry that had grown increasingly self-absorbed. The bugle sound of battle had awakened more than just a need to defend human rights; it had brought the city of angels down to earth. Movie stars making thousands upon thousands of dollars a picture were reminded of their good fortune. Thus, the immortals, the untouchables, made a conscious effort to repay a great debt to the viewers who basically allowed them their lavish privileges, and what's more, were fighting for them. Barbara Stanwyck, Ann Sheridan, Jennifer Jones, Marlene Dietrich, and Claudette Colbert were some of the many beautiful ladies who dedicated their time to the soldiers, sometimes dancing with them until their feet started to bleed! But, the men came too, and Gary Cooper, Cary Grant, and the Marx Brothers offered up jokes and laughs, chumming up to the brave men and doing their part. Before Tony Curtis became one of these elite, he came to the Canteen as a young navy officer to stare awestruck at such personalities. As such, John and Bette's landmark achievement became a Hollywood monument, (though it is rumored that Bette was a little overly patriotic in her attentions to some of the soldiers. Not that they complained).

The most dedicated and selfless offerings came from those stars who devoted their time to entertaining the troops. A majority of stars would make such a contribution, particularly to the local California army bases. Those who are truly noteworthy went overseas and into the heart of danger to bring a bit of home to the men abroad. Bob Hope's efforts are legendary as are Jack Benny's. But the army's number one girl during WWII was none other than Carole Landis (hitching a ride, right). The tom-boy knock-out was dedicated to the cause from the get-go, singing at bases, volunteering, and gamely donating both blood and money. She saw the war coming before it had reached American soil, and had even requested an acting job in England so that she could be closer to those who were already fighting. She earned her own pilot's license, hoping to enlist with the ATS, but she sadly withdrew when she learned that she would have to surrender her American citizenship, which was something the All-American-Girl was not apt to do. Her solution was to devote as much time as she could to "the boys." She remained as active as possible, and actually carried a trunk in her car filled with a variety of uniforms and wardrobe options for whichever random event should happen to claim her attention. She motored back and forth to countless benefits. By 1942, she was already made an honorary Colonel by Hollywood Post 43. She became a favorite of soldiers on leave, whom she honestly befriended. She offered up her beach house to them, and many a lucky gang found themselves taking a breather there and being served breakfast by Carole and her mother. (No funny business. She treated them as her own brothers, and they as their sister). Carole also always volunteered for the foxhole tours, which were considered the most dangerous. To her, the fellows here were the most in need.

Carole was aching to do more, and her most memorable gift to the servicemen came when she enlisted the help of actress Kay Francis, dancer Mitzi Mayfair, and comedienne Martha Raye to join her in a trip to entertain the troops stationed in Britain (all Four Jills in a Jeep, left). With her singing talents, the quadruple threat was a welcome relief to many young men whose first words to them often were, "I haven't seen an American girl in months!" Warm, fresh faces from home-sweet-home, and famous faces at that, were a dream come true in the hellish nightmare of war. Taking Cary Grant's advice to pack as many warm clothes as she possibly could, Carole and her talented retinue took on the dangerous task of spreading cheer with heart and courage. And it was dangerous. After a brief and unexpected stopover with the troops in Bermuda, the ladies traipsed on to England and later Africa. Carole documented her memories in a blue notebook that one friendly soldier gifted her early in her travels, which she would later turn into a book, and Fox would turn into a movie: Four Jills in a Jeep. However, this film, which does much to showcase the ladies' talents, does little to reveal the realities of the ordeals they went through. Carole would recall freezing nights, explosions that shook the girls to the bone and blew through their bedrooms, and life-threatening experiences-- such as a near-crash landing with the plane still ablaze! She and the ladies were once thrown into safety by some of their soldier friends, who protected their bodies from flying shrapnel. Though they donned their fancy duds on stage, where they performed a number of exhausting shows nearly every day, they wore army regulation clothing and boots on their off time, wherein they unglamorously clomped through the mud with the boys.

Carole's memories of the war and of the men she encountered would change her life and leave her with bittersweet feelings (with Mitzi at the Biskra Air Base, right). She committed herself fully, and at a cost (she would have recurring bouts of malaria and painful stomach ailments for the remainder of her short life). The height was meeting so many people, befriending them, and touching their lives; the downside was the pain of learning that they had been injured in battle or had lost their lives. Carole visited the hospitals devotedly, memorizing names, palling around with the nurses, and even refusing a private room when she herself became ill. When her tour was halted from proceeding further, Carole and Kay petitioned to Dwight Eisenhower himself for aid in allowing them to continue their mission to the frontline, come Hell or high water. He found it impossible to say no to them, and their persistence eventually got them to Africa. As tiring as the entire process was, doing eight shows a day over and over for thousands of men, traveling to strange and dangerous destinations, and getting little sleep, there was some time for fun. A few of her favorite soldiers took her and Mitzi especially around, showed them what remained of the wrecked local life, and indulged them in jitterbugging. Carole too found time for love, falling for soldier Thomas Wallace, and fulfilling what she must have believed was a patriotic duty in marrying him. The trials she had to get through merely to get this process done was arduous enough in wartime England, but with her usual persistence, a little luck, and the help of friends-- who offered up their wartime coupons, so she could buy a wedding dress-- she completed this ultimate fantasy on January 5, 1943. Another high point was being able to perform for the Queen of England. It was always Carole's singing finales that brought down the house. After four and a half months, Carole and her gal pals ended their unified journey. Carole would never forget it, nor the soldiers her.

Back at home, Carole motored on with radio work, filmmaking, writing her war memoirs, and continuing in her patriotic efforts-- even performing in the rain for an ecstatic public who came to see her. As the war ended-- and her storybook marriage to Tommy-- she found it hard to re-assimilate to the banal existence of a once again self serving Hollywood. It certainly contributed to the depression that would later claim her life. Perhaps she felt the impact of that brief moment of history a little too deeply. Perhaps her knowledge of it was simply more profound than so many others-- who had remained ignorantly comfortable on American shores-- to understand. Existing on war-torn terrain and returning to a land of glamour and phony prestige no longer seemed bearable. But then, this was not the total reason for her end. She had lived for the boys, and she would have continued to do so had it not been for other factors affecting her emotional life. Certainly, when she took her own life, she broke a million hearts. These hadn't been lads who had merely caught a glimpse of her, but those who shook her hand, knew her by her first name, had confided in her their fears, stories about their families, tragic tales about their battles, and the dreams that they had held for the future. (Carole sings in her favorite dress, in which she would also be buried, left). To say that she touched many lives would be the understatement of the century.

Ann Sheridan at the Hollywood Canteen.

Carole was one of the many who saw to it that, for once, this topsy-turvy world was inverted, and that honor was bestowed in the right place. During WWII especially, soldiers became the celebrities. They were the ones receiving admiration and unadulterated respect. That so many Hollywood personalities would step down from their ivory towers to make this known is still a mind-boggling and moving concept. This was an odd and unrepeatable moment of cohesion and certainty, which in our confused, modern world no longer makes sense. Normally our cinema reflects social turmoil, escapist fantasy, and the product of constant human questioning. Movies, thus, become the products of our disagreements. Rarely, as in these periods of war, it becomes instead of medium of complete agreement, when the living heart and the filmic heart beat in unison. When this moment ends, and our bickering continues-- our political debates and communal banter-- it only renders our artistic and actual freedom more perfect. Our ability to vocally, visually, and even vapidly express ourselves and the things that we always fight over, is the very thing we've always been fighting for. God Bless America and American Film!

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part IV

Lucy does her usual scene-stealing for laughs 

on "I Love Lucy."

To get ahead in Hollywood, one really has to stand out. This was a lesson Lucille Ball learned early on. An observant girl with an uncanny knack for funny, Lucy would take note when she found something hilarious and would later use it in her own work. When a teenager, she would once have the awestruck honor of witnessing a funny tidbit via silent screen gem Dorothy Gish. While modeling at a Carnegie fashion show, Lucy happened to see both Dorothy (left) and sister Lillian with their two dates. When Lillian and the two gents walked away for a pace, Lucy watched while Dorothy calmly ripped her red program apart and stuck the little pieces to her face. When the trio returned, and Dorothy's pimpled face greeted them, they all burst out laughing. Lucy did too, and she would remember the moment. Later, when trying to land a spot as a chorine in the Eddie Cantor flick Roman Scandals, Lucy would steal Dorothy's gimmick. Applying the pieces of red crepe paper to her own face, she waited as Eddie went down the line of lovely girls, scanning their ripe figures and eying their legs. When he came to Lucy, he stopped in his tracks and started cracking up. He asked her name, and as he walked away, she could hear him say, "That Ball dame-- she's a riot!" Needless to say, she made an impression and got the gig.

"I Love Lucy" co-star William Frawley was also a natural comedian. If anyone on the show knew how to deliver a line, it was Frawley. In fact, he added a lot of gags and one-liners to punch up the already hilarious scripts. Because of this, he was constantly winning the "funny race" backstage. All of the names of the cast and crew were listed on a poster, and when they contributed something side-splitting to the show, they received a gold star next to their name. Frawley's name always outshined the others. However, he sometimes didn't "get" the jokes assigned to him. This is obviously not because he lacked a good sense of humor, but because he only ever memorized his own lines. So, during rehearsal, he would come up to Desi Arnaz and say, "You know, this line isn't very funny." Desi (with Bill on the show, right) continually had to explain, "Well sure, not by itself, but after the build-up it makes a great punchline." He would then describe the scenario, and suddenly the comic button that William's Fred Mertz added made sense. "Oh," he'd say. "Yeah. I guess that is funny." 

Back in the days before personal stylists and make-up artists, an actor was pretty much left up to his or her own devices to contrive the perfect look for a character. In addition to providing your own wardrobe, so too must you possess the ability to "put your face on," because no one else was gonna do it for you. This was information that aspiring young ingenue Leatrice Joy (left) knew all too well. The silent film actress was a novice when she started performing before the camera, but then, in 1918, so was everyone else. However, her jitters got the better of her before the camera started cranking on One Dollar Bid. Panicked about looking her best, in addition to adding cosmetics to her face, she decided to add a white paste to her arms to give them a smooth, porcelain look. When it came time for her to give her co-star and latest crush, John Gilbert, a tender embrace, her hug left white blotches all over his brand new jacket. Since John was also a struggling actor-- as evidenced by his thin-from-starvation frame-- the fact that one of his few personal suits of clothes was ruined was enough to send him into a tizzy. Poor Leatrice was humiliated, but after John sent her into tears, he apologized. When daughter Leatrice Gilbert Fountain later asked her mother what had made her make such a strange cosmetic choice, the elder Leatrice simply said that she thought it would look "pretty." The result was pretty awful.

Leatrice would later make another make-up foul-up when, after making peace, John started courting her. Both actors, while not famous by any means, had by now established some level of stability in the acting world, and Leatrice was flattered that the handsome, growing star was paying her such steadfast attention. Once again nervous, she went to a trusted source of feminine wiles for help: neighbor Theda Bara. The Queen of Sexual Potency (see right) had plenty of advice for the delicate young Leatrice and allegedly gave her a makeover that completely altered her appearance. One might have likened her to... a "harlot." Since John was a couth gentleman, Leatrice doubted that he would take to her new appearance and wiped most of its evidence away before he arrived to pick her up. However, she had neglected to remove the rouge from her earlobes, which Theda had assured her was all the rage-- certain to indicate to her suitor her secret, sensual passion. While dancing, John couldn't help but notice Leatrice's ears, which appeared to be inflamed and infected. When he asked her about them, she fessed up. All John could do was laugh. He helped her to remove the last of Theda's influence, and the two enjoyed the rest of the evening. Leatrice made a pretty good impression on her own. John would marry her in 1922. Despite their divorce two years later, and John's tumultuous romance with Greta Garbo, he would always attest that the sweet, naive Leatrice was the one who got away.  

Ernest Borgnine is not the typical leading man. Yet, after serving some time in the military, the perplexed young fella' was nudged into acting by his mother, who saw a talent that he had never realized. Slowly but surely, the character actor honed his craft and became a dependable and capable commodity to the stage. The next logical step was Hollywood, which was very far from Ernie's roots, but he was willing to give it a go. A fun-loving but old-fashioned guy, he would always recall one of his early screen tests with humor. Richard Siodmak saw some real potential in him, and asked him to come in to audition for The Whistle at Eaton Falls. "Audition" was a very strong word, for Ernie's performance was relegated to basically sitting in a chair and smiling. Awkward and still in a whirl about it all, he was confused when the director gave him his one simple direction: "Say 'Sh*t,' then smile." "What?!" Ernie replied. "Just do it. Trust me." So, Ernest lit up a big grin, looked directly into the camera and said with great joy, "Sh*t!" Cut. (See similar effect, left). Afterward, Richard took the screen test to producer Louis de Rochemont. When he saw Ernest's footage he asked, "What is he saying?" Richard lied: "I don't know, but he's got a great smile!" Louis must have agreed, for Ernest Borgnine was cast in the movie, which was his film debut.

Charlton Heston (right) also made a great impression on director Cecil B. DeMille. But not a great first impression. Cecil wasn't interested when he first saw the actor, considering him too "sinister," but then Cecil was an eccentric guy. After writing Chuck off as just another run-in-the-mill actor, one day, Heston happened to drive past him on the back lot and flash a wave. Suddenly, Cecil had a change of heart. Turning to his assistant, Gladys Rosson, he said, "I like the way he waved just now." Maybe there was something to this kid after all... He seemed to have the confidence and charisma that Cecil needed in a leading man. Chuck was soon put to the test when he was cast in The Greatest Show on Earth as Brad Braden. But, his first role with DeMille might have initially had Cecil rethinking his choice. For his first scene, Chuck had to drive up and jump out of a jeep. Instead, he drove up, hopped out, and fell flat on his face. One can almost imagine Cecil closing his eyes and shaking his head in annoyance. Luckily, Chuck was able to shake off the initial embarrassment and churn out a strong performance. Cecil too was impressed, and he would recast Heston in the pinnacle success of his career The Ten Commandments. It was because of this movie that Chuck's unique place in cinema was solidified. Thanks to that simple wave, Charlton Heston became a star. A little friendliness goes a long way.

Norma Talmadge was one of the divas of the silent film era (as seen left). Sadly, she is too often forgotten amongst her contemporaries, along with her sisters Constance and Natalie. In her hey-day, while married to none other than production chief Joseph Schenck, Norma ruled all. In a powerful position, she had her choice of roles and was able to rake in the dough. She could be seen around town looking very regal in her fine furs and elegant gowns. During the brief time that these untouchable celebs were seen as royalty, she more than played the part-- on and off screen. Yet, it was all a game, and while her more smart-ass sister Connie aka "Dutch" seemed to latch onto this, Norma sometimes seemed to be completely lost in the oblivion of her own narcissistic delusions. It was an "I think, therefore I am" kind of attitude. However, there were times when the aloof veneer would come down and the Brooklyn girl would come out with full force. If there was one man who loved to identify and skewer hypocrisy, it was Groucho Marx, which is why he loved having his pal George Jessel reminisce about the Grande Dame... who apparently had a bit of a drinking problem. To Groucho's amusement, George would recount how he and Norma had been chummy in the old days and had run in the same circles. While George would say that Norma was, indeed, a fine lady, he would stipulate that this was only until she had had her third drink. As he put it: "She was wonderful. Until the third drink, she had the manners of a princess. Courted, she was like a Queen. Third drink, she'd pee on the floor." Groucho loved that part. 

MENTAL MONTAGE: Who's Your Daddy?

Adoption seems to be a popular sport among today's celebrity elite. Sometimes a famous lady or gent has simply gotten impatient while waiting for Mr. or Ms. Right and decides to start a family on his or her own. Other times, a svelte actress may opt to visit the orphanage to protect her figure instead of having babes the ol' fashioned way. Then, of course, there is option three, wherein certain celebs become invested in a strange, maternal gluttony-- a la Mia Farrow or Angelina Jolie-- and keep adding to their litter like bitches in heat without the heat. (I suppose all the extra nannies help). Adoption in Hollywood is not a new phenomenon, however. Joan Crawford accrued a tally of four lucky (if you ask the younger two) or unlucky (if you ask the elder two) tots, and Cecil B. DeMille had only one legitimate daughter (Cecilia) before adding on another three, due to his wife's charitable love of children and alleged distaste of the marital bed. This brings me to the point of today's segment: those mysterious, adopted children who suspiciously resemble their new parents. Coincidence? Perhaps. But Scandal is much easier (and  more fun) to believe and, in Hollywood, almost always true.

Cecil ponders: how am I gonna pull this one over???

Returning to Cecil, he had an older brother, William (left), who was also a director. The two were very close and mutually respected each other. While Cecil went on to be a much more famous and powerful man in the business, he still looked up to and admired his big bro. Perhaps this is why, when Bill ran into a little trouble, Cecil was all too ready to offer his help. See, William had married Anna George in 1903. This, however, didn't stop him from having a few extramarital dalliances, including one with writer Lorna Moon. This affair led to the birth of a son, Richard, in 1922. In order to save his marriage and to save the child from an unknown fate, William asked Cecil to adopt the child as his own, so at least William could watch him grow up. Cecil agreed to the request, since he had already adopted two other children, John and Katherine DeMille. Cecil was known for having trysts of his own, most particularly with writer Jeanie Macpherson, actress Julia Faye, and secretary Gladys Rosson, though aside from Julia he never dabbled with his actresses, sensing the danger it would cause on the set. For this reason, Cecil held no judgement against his brother, and took on the task of raising Richard and supporting Lorna until her death of tuberculosis in 1930. It was publicly stated that the child was abandoned and left inside Cecil's car and that he took it in. This and Cecil's own checkered romantic life raised many eyebrows, and it was often incorrectly speculated that Richard was his own child. The only two people who supposedly knew the truth were the two brothers. Cecil kept the secret until after Bill's death, when, as agreed, he told Richard about his true parentage. This brought forth a rush of understanding on Richard's part, who, though always treated with the same love and tenderness as the other kids, suddenly understood both his uncanny feelings of somehow being "apart" from the rest of his family and his strange attachment to his mysterious Uncle Bill. However, it never changed his relationship with CB, who continued to treat him as his own son.

A sudden and questionable bundle of joy also arrived in (William) Wallace Reid's life in 1922. Wally (right) was the All American Boy whom no woman could resist, as many women of his time could attest. After successfully wooing and wedding actress Dorothy Davenport, the two became the delighted parents of Bill, Jr, Wally's pride and joy. However, as time wore on and the marriage cooled, Wally's hijinks and shenanigans did not. Living a fast-paced and debaucherous life as one of the most desired men in American-- and even the world-- this superstar found it hard to resist the temptations that came with fame and fortune. Of course, his outward bravado also hid a sensitive and somewhat sad overgrown boy who was constantly searching for comfort, whether it be in inebriation or the arms of an all too inviting woman. As such, it is rumored that Wally fathered a child out of wedlock with an extra girl, who appeared on his doorstep and begged his wife Dorothy to take the baby girl in as her own. Whether or not these are the exact circumstances is unknown, but Wally and Dorothy did adopt daughter Betty Anna Mummert in 1922. It is said that Wally, who loved being a father, adored her just as dearly as his "legitimate son," so much so that if anyone insinuated or mentioned the fact that she was adopted, Wally's eyes would turn red with anger. He could be seen playing with his two tots in his backyard on DeLongpre, where they enjoyed splashing around in the family's fashionable swimming pool. Many would recall the strange resemblance Betty had with her adopted father and sibling Bill, and it is also recorded that she inherited some of Wally's more tortured mental traits. After Wally died as a result of his morphine addiction in 1923, Betty would live for another fifty years, having become estranged from her remaining family. If she was in fact his true daughter, all concerned took that information to their graves.

Dorothy, Wally, Betty, and Bill, Jr.

Barbara La Marr (left) also allegedly adopted her own child in 1923. This task was much more daunting for a female, since she could not simply take on the child after its birth as the father could, but had to carry it to term without raising attention. Since producer Paul Bern had been pining away for Barbara for some time, and the newborn seemed to bear a slight resemblance to him, many opined that it was indeed his child. However, this throws a wrench in all of the rumors built up around Paul, which include the theory that he had infantile sex organs and was unable to pleasure future wife Jean Harlow, (coincidentally leading to his mysterious "suicide"). If in fact this whole story about Paul's anatomy was a fabrication concocted by Mayer to cover up Bern's mysterious death, his possible paternity of Barbara's child also begs the question why he wouldn't marry her when she became pregnant, since one hears nothing but how infatuated he was with her. It is possible that she simply turned him down, as she was not in love with him. (There were additional stories that Bern tried to drown himself in his own toilet when Barbara broke things off. Clearly, this was either an incredibly unstable man or one whose memory people loved to desecrate). In any case, the child is popularly believed to be Barbara's own, one that she placed in an orphanage temporarily to complete the ruse. Though the child's true father is unknown, there is another papa possibility- William Haines-- who was a constant "friend with benefits" to Barbara at this time.

But, the most famous case of celebrity "adoption" is the story of Judy Lewis (Mary Judith Clark), who was adopted by her own mother Loretta Young in 1937 (both pictured right). This one gets even juicier because not only was this lovely girl the offspring of one of the most gorgeous and powerful women in Hollywood, but her true father was none other than the King himself, Clark Gable. When Clark and Loretta met and began work on Call of the Wild, it wasn't long before the sparks started to fly, and Loretta's high Christian morals were soon overcome by Clark's charms. The two entered into an affair, he still being wed to Ria Langham at this point. Loretta, to her own shock and shame, became pregnant. Of course, there was no way to solve this disgraceful problem except to have the child aborted, which is what the studio wanted in order to protect both of their stars' images. However, Loretta's faith would not allow her to do so, so she concocted a plan: she would "take ill" in Venice Beach until the baby was born (on November 6, 1935) and place it in an orphanage (St. Elizabeth's Infant Hospital for unwed mothers) with the understanding that she would return within a matter of  months to adopt it. With the help of Irving Thalberg, this is exactly what she did. 

Clark and Loretta adhere to the Call of the Wild... 

and pay for it 9 months later.

Of course, everyone in Hollywood knew the real story, but for the press, Loretta went on the with act-- perhaps the best of her career. Clark made a few visits to mother and daughter after the birth, and by Nov. 30, Loretta gave her first interview, sans child, about how she had completely recuperated from her illness. Judy remained well taken care of, basically sitting in wait for her mother to return to her, which she did after a year and a half. The world bought the whole story, however, the secret became more difficult to hide as Judy aged. Not only did she resemble her mother greatly, but she had also inherited her father's trademark ears, which Loretta kept firmly hidden underneath a bonnet until she was forced to have them surgically pinned back. Later, after being prodded by a friend at school with the curiosity, Judith asked her mother why, if she were adopted, the two should look so alike? Loretta fumbled for an answer, stating that it was simply that they had spent so much time together and used the same mannerisms and way of speaking, etc. When the truth came out in Judy's early twenties, and Loretta was finally forced to confess to her daughter, she became so overwrought that she rushed to the restroom and threw up. Loretta had been tortured by both her love of Judith and her knowledge that she was the result of outright "sin." For Judith's part, once she knew and accepted the truth, she said that it made her feel whole for the first time in her life. And while her sketchy history and upbringing has become the stuff of Hollywood legend, she remains secure in herself and proud of both parents, despite their naughty, naughty ways. (Judy shows her resemblance to both parents, with mother Loretta, left).

There are certainly more stories from whence these dollops came, but uncovering them all would take a large chunk of time. The sad truth is that in these studio days, when celebrities were looked up to as Gods, it was intolerable for them to commit human errors. Many adhered to studio regulations when being punished for their immoral crimes, hence the number of "appendectomies" that female stars had to undergo. (Marlene Dietrich once quipped that abortion was the only studio supported method of birth control). For some, like the aforementioned, who chose to bravely go against the grain and have their children against studio objection, they still had to sacrifice honesty for a continued life of fame and fortune. Since most people in the community knew the truth, it makes one wonder why people chose to wear the facade of morality when all concerned knew that it was a facade. Between the shame of studio condemnation and the knowledge that a pious audience may too turn their backs on them, these players were forced to keep up the ruse and maintain their pristine reputations. As always, The Greatest Show on Earth takes place behind the cameras.

HOT SPOTS in CA: Hollywoodland

Don't mind if I do...



The thing about Hollywood is that it's very much alive, even while being haunted. In truth, despite all of the sordidness and usary, the hypocrisy and superficiality, you kind of can't help loving this city. I guess what it all comes down to is that, while I myself often can't stand what Hollywood currently stands for, I still marvel at what it was built upon. Vision, integrity, imaginiation, grit, artistry, beauty, determination-- these things all came together inexplicably when man embraced his latest invention and found himself encroaching on modern genius. This is why Hollywood will forever have my heart, and while I cynically enjoy driving down the paved streets in need of serious repair, past the electric lights pointing me toward the nearest bar, strip joint, or medical marijuanna emporium (which are sprouting up everywhere like... weeds), there is something equally yet contradictorally invigorating about the open landscapes and unknown wildernesses that indicate what once was-- the Hollywood that Cecil B. DeMille stumbled upon in 1914 after he overruled AZ as the shooting locale of The Squaw Man.

Original Stone Gate at the Hollywood Entryway.

The real estate development venture known as Hollywoodland still exists. This is a fact that I myself did not know. I assumed that whatever properties had once been established by Harvey and Daeida Wilcox had long since been demolished and buried beneath the latest architectural ventures Los Angeles has had to offer. However, on a whim, and with a little luck from Living Social, I encountered a tour meant to take me on a narrated hike around the Hollywood sign. Twenty bucks later, I found myself walking up Beachwood Canyon into a small, tucked away neighborhood known as Hollywoodland. My jaw dropped, my eyes bulged, and I very nearly kissed the pavement beneath me when my brain accepted what my eyes were seeing, but I stilled myself for fear of frightening the other hikers.

Site of today's Hollywoodland Realty.

 

Yes, H-land is still very much alive, and despite the array of modern cars lining the streets, it remains very much untouched by time. Upon entering the stone entryway, complete with turrets and a large clock, one will see the Village Coffee Shop (great Eggs Benedict, left) and the local market, where a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers was filmed. A few small shops and private businesses greet the eye, and then a slew of streets take one up into the hills above Hollywood. Of course, there have been modern renovations and new homes built, but many of the buildings are reminiscent of or actually are the original structures regimented by the original neighborhood rules: homeowners were once given a choice of French Normandy, English Tudor, Mediterranean Revival, or Spanish Revival styles of design.

Example of classic architecture and original

supporting stone walls.

When walking up Ledgewood, one can get pretty close to the notorious Hollywood sign, and on the hike up I was too able to spot an interesting bit of property known as The Garden of Oz. Since Frank Baum was an early resident in Hollywood, and his The Wizard of Oz went onto become one of the greatest films of all time, it makes sense that there be a little tribute to him. I'm not sure what the whole story is, and the doors were locked, so I couldn't go inside, but I got a peek. Inside the closed gates there seemed to be a child-sized world resembling Willy Wonka's chocolate factory-- minus the chocolate. It appears to be private property accessible only to the neighborhood children, who each have a key.

The Garden of Oz.

Perhaps the most surprising moment was when I laid my eyes on Hollywoodland's greatest secret-- Lake Hollywood. Man-made by engineer William Mulholland, this vessel holds 2.5 billion gallons of water and once kept nearby inhabitants very hydrated during the hot and dry summer months, (we all know Los Angeles isn't known for its rain). Begun in 1923 and finished in 1925, it used to be a very popular swimming hole for local residents and sunbathers. It is still there, visible, but untouchable and off limits after the disaster of 9/11.

Lake Hollywood

Different homes were also pointed out on the tour: one that belonged to both Madonna and Bugsy Siegel (Castillo de Lago- Wolf's Lair), one that belonged to Debbie Reynolds, but the most interesting and lasting structures are perhaps the still remaining, original staircases (right) that early residents used to climb the vast hills of their neighborhood. It really puts things in perspective when you realize that people didn't always have the privileges we take for granted today: paved roads, cars, and highways that can take us up and over anything in a few minutes. There are several steps still around, but you have to look a little bit to find them. Surmounting them makes you realize why everyone was in much better shape in the days of yesteryear. Many people use the stairs today to exercise. One staircase in particular had a counter at the top, so joggers could keep track of their laps-- aka insanity.

Original Staircase Marker.

At the end of my two hour hike, I was sad to leave. This small little gem, tucked away in the hills behind Franklin, felt much more like Hollywood to me than today's Hollywood, which is loud, littered, and overcrowded. Standing back and over the city on Mt. Lee and taking a glimpse at all of the structures we have built, the bright lights, and the social achievement is one thing, but there is something even more interesting about turning in the opposite direction and facing only green hills and rugged terrain. One direction is this city's past; one is its present. If you are ever in the area and are bored or in the need of a little mental and physical exercise, I suggest you take the hike up to Hollywoodland. It is truly wonderful that this small patch of earth remains somehow untainted and pure. As the starting point for all that Hollywood has become, it remains the still beating heart from which the unruly Los Angeles spread out to take over the world. Just dallying around and grabbing a cup o' joe, you can feel the nostagia and reminisce about the way we were and how amazing it is that such a great something came from a little nothing. But, I guess that is the story of all America. While others will surely extol the praises of their own hometown or self-proclaimed favorite city, I can not part from mine. I guess I left my heart in Hollywood.

Hollywoodland was but one of many signs that went up (in 1928) 

to mark regional real estate development sectors, yet it is the

only one that remains, thanks to the movies.

If you're in town and want to take a great tour through the hills around the Hollywood sign, go to LA Active Adventures.

Hahaha, oh Hollywood...