Love That Laird!


I can drive up to Wal-Mart any hour of any day and see two dozen shoppers twice as big as Laird Cregar. That’s how much things have changed since his death in 1944. If Laird were around today, I’ll bet he’d be doing the romantic leads he so longed for during his all too brief career at Twentieth-Century-Fox. Back then, of course, he was typed as a big, fat, sinister, booming-voiced grotesque. He tried to get away from all that by going on crash diets and seeking plastic surgeons to make him "beautiful" like other leading men. In the end, it killed him --- a great actor only 31 years old when the curtain rang down. Poor Laird was so down on himself! Reading about his monumental insecurities makes me want to jump on Rod’s Time Machine again, just so I could go back to the Fox lot during the production of Heaven Can Wait and say, "Laird…dude…you look great!" Well, just check out this color shot of him as Satan in that great 1943 Ernst Lubitsch comedy --- is he the coolest or what? I think Laird looked better with the weight than without. Of course, he was never svelte, but that rigid diet that preceded his appearance in the last film, Hangover Square (released posthumously) did not flatter him. You can tell he’s not happy when you watch it, and by all accounts (especially Greg Mank’s in his excellent book, The Hollywood Hissables), Laird was miserable during the filming.

I think chicks would have gone for Laird in a big way were it not for the fact that he was gay (well, for that matter, I guess they did go for him, though it must have been a disappointment for some of them when he didn't return their romantic interest). Gene Tierney certainly looks impressed in this candid shot on the Fox lot. Oh yeah, she digs Laird. You can tell. He’s said to have been a real charmer off the set, and sometimes, when he was in a particularly good mood, the 328-pound actor would do cartwheels all the way from his dressing room to the soundstage. You gotta love a guy as un-self-conscious as that, but wait --- there’s the paradox, because another part of Laird was always trying to break free of that body he felt trapped in. He’d come from a king-sized family --- his mother was nearly Laird’s size, but the fortune they’d enjoyed during his father’s lifetime was wiped out in the ’29 crash, so Laird had to struggle years in poverty before hitting the jackpot with an L.A. stage turn as Oscar Wilde. The town went wild for his Wilde (as witness this hand-written congratulatory letter from Jack Barrymore), and Laird was on his way.


This neat-o still of in the chips Laird burning the note was taken in 1942 to celebrate the retirement of his debt to the Philadelphia, PA Rotary Club. Seems they had staked him to a course of dramatic studies at the Pasedena Playhouse several years previous, and now he’s paying them back. Doesn’t he look happy here? Well, being Toast Of The Town’ll do that for a guy. By this time, he’d installed Mom, an aunt, and a seven-year-old niece into his luxurious Beverly Hills abode, wherein he entertained on a grand scale (and taught the kid to do cartwheels). During those days of struggle, Laird often had to sleep in the back seat of a friend’s car. Here he is, just a couple of years later, sharing a back seat with Veronica Lake! The movie is This Gun For Hire, one of the few pics he did off the Fox lot. Overall, Laird had a much too short four years in pictures, but look at all the good ones he racked up in that brief time --- Blood and Sand, Charley’s Aunt, I Wake Up Screaming, This Gun For Hire, Ten Gentlemen From West Point, The Black Swan, Hello, Frisco, Hello, Heaven Can Wait, The Lodger, Hangover Square --- what a list! Imagine any actor today getting out that much quality work in so short a time, or even within an entire career.

Monday Glamour Starter --- Maureen O'Sullivan --- Part 1


Would anyone mind terribly if we went to two parts for these lovely, unabashed pre-code shots of Maureen O’Sullivan from Tarzan and His Mate? We stumbled across the first few, then some more, and … well, how could we leave any of these out? I mean, honestly, was there ever anything remotely like her … ever? This is one Tarzan pic that’ll perk up even the most jaded modern viewer, especially with all the keen footage they’ve put back in the DVD. That nude swimming sequence was always the stuff of legend among collectors. I knew of a Canadian 16mm fan who had a print that included it. Funny thing is, his version was topless only, whereas the DVD is totally nude. That isn’t Maureen in the water either way, more’s the pity, and from what we hear, Metro shot a number of variations on the swim scene. I’ve actually seen guys crane their necks during that part where Maureen’s rubbing the sticks together to ward off the lions, as if maybe a different viewing position will reveal a little more of her. What a picture. All that stuff with the gorillas throwing boulders on the safari from the top of the cliff is just beyond great. I knew a girl once, she was a teenager at the time, who was just nuts about Maureen. This was about twenty years ago. Anyway, she told her parents that her dream was to meet the actress, by now in her seventies and living in New York. Well, lo and behold, high school graduation arrived, and Mom and Dad gifted her with a trip to NYC, where she spent the day with Maureen! Who says celebrities aren’t good scouts?

A Film Noir Sunday


Does one really need an excuse to post a random group of fantastic film noir images? Having just run across a group of these, I couldn’t resist dropping some favorites on the site to liven up your Sunday morning. That’s Raymond Burr getting ready to smack somebody around in Desperate (1947). It’s one of those ordinary-Joe gets caught up in a web of murder and corruption stories. Steve Brodie’s the Joe. I like Ray as Perry Mason, but his big-screen villainy was sure missed after he made the switch to Tee-Vee. Ray’s also a snake in RKO’s His Kind Of Woman (1951), though he’s not in this shot with Bob Mitchum. That’s Charles McGraw oppressing Bob. Chuck is the living end when it comes to noir legends. Word is he was hard as nails in real life too. Wish I’d known him. Here he is with Marie Windsor in The Narrow Margin (1952), and I don’t have to tell anyone how great that show is. Finally, Burt Lancaster’s tempting Harold Vermilyea in Sorry, Wrong Number (1948). Never forget seeing that one on NBC Saturday Night At The Movies back in 1968. Incidentally, there’s a recent book called Dark City Dames, by Eddie Muller --- all about the actresses who populated these great thrillers. It’s one of the most insightful books I’ve ever read about the slippery highway of movie stardom. Among the many tomes written on the subject of noir, I’d put this right at the top.

Black-Market Popcorn --- Now It Can Be Told


Frugal breakfast bore unexpected fruit when I made my customary 6:00 a.m. entrance at the little diner where morning oatmeal is served. As I walked by one of the booths out front, I couldn’t help overhearing snatches of conversation between one of the cooks and her grandfather, who was just preparing to attack a plate of biscuits and gravy. "Back when I worked at the theatre…" said he, and I was stopped cold in my tracks. Could this be a veteran of long past days at the Liberty, the Allen, or even the generations-defunct Rose? Well, it turns out he worked at the Allen (of Them! fame) from 1941 through 1944, and his job was hustling the popcorn. Wesley couldn’t be bothered about the movies they ran, but his memories of that corn were sufficiently vivid as to fairly permeate our little dining area with the smell of molten butter. Seems business was a little slow in ’41 when Wesley initially took charge of the counter (popcorn's all they had for concessions, by the way, no candy at all, and one coke machine in the lobby). He made do with sluggish sales until the fateful day he added extra seasoning to the mix. Now, if you’re a connoisseur of theatre popcorn, the matter of seasoning can often draw the line of demarcation between a really fine culinary treat, and the tepid negation of your entire movie-going experience. Wesley’s enhanced popcorn was an immediate sensation, and sales rocketed. The boss was delighted. Only problem lay in the fact that there was a war on, and popcorn seasoning was a rationed item. You could only get one 450 pound barrel every four months. Wes had used up the Allen’s barrel in six weeks. Not to worry, said senior management, and then, in a hushed aside, "I’ll get that seasoning…" Maybe there’s a war out there somewhere, but we’re selling 1500 bags of popcorn in this place every Saturday, and at a nickel a bag, that’s seventy-five bucks! For this kind of windfall, rationing be damned! To this day, Wesley still doesn’t like to speculate as to just how the boss got those extra barrels. All he knows is … it was got. Of course, one’s imagination runs riot at the prospect of a small-town exhibitor dealing in black-market popcorn seasoning. Just how did he acquire it? What sort of criminal element was involved? Was our little community honeycombed with dealers in wartime contraband? Perhaps some sinister Axis agency lent an assist in obtaining the flavorful salt and butter combination. It’s fortunate I wasn’t born yet. Otherwise, I might have been sitting there eating popcorn at the expense of our boys in uniform. For all I know, this web of seditious intrigue extended all the way to the Fuhrer himself! Perhaps it’s best this story remain under wraps. The Allen burned up in 1962, and Wesley’s the only one left who knows of its secret past. We’ll mark this file --- confidential.


Just by way of background, here are a couple of 1941 ads for the Allen and its rival up the street, the Liberty. The Allen always ran a distant second behind the Liberty, both in seating capacity (about 300 less of them), and the fact they had no stage. Note the Liberty’s promise of "Deluxe Big-Time Vaudeville". They had stars making personal appearances as well. Wesley remembers seeing Wild Bill Elliot up there once. By the way, that run of Carolina may have been one of the last times the 1934 Fox feature was seen anywhere, as it is now a lost film --- pretty incredible that a major studio feature of such late vintage should have vanished from the face of the earth, but there it is. If anyone knows of a surviving print of this movie, please tell us all, and I’ll gladly make a correction (Henry King directed, and the cast including Janet Gaynor, Lionel Barrymore, and Robert Young sounds interesting --- here’s a still). For obvious reasons, this is one I’d really like to see.

My Adventures With Don Juan


Back when this writer was chasing 16mm film across the landscape, there was a magic beacon known as IB Technicolor guiding my path. IB prints were the ones that never faded. They were rich, luminous treasures. Few collectors had them. Those who did were known and respected among peers. Possessing IB’s was a status symbol. You could run them for friends and fellow enthusiasts, knowing a better print could not exist elsewhere. Bragging rights varied according to title. It was one thing to tell friends (and rivals) you’d just picked up an IB of The Caine Mutiny --- quite another to announce you’d just located Adventures Of Robin Hood. The question was always rarity. How many Caines were around? Well, lots actually. It was a big rental title, and heavily syndicated on TV, so Columbia printed many 16mm IB’s. Beautiful prints…but as James Mason said in The Blue Max, "common as dirt". Titles like Robin Hood were something else. Also Vertigo, The Wizard Of Oz, The Searchers, Leave Her To Heaven… these were the Faberge eggs of collectable 16mm. To own one or more was to achieve a state of grace among film hoarders. The dealer’s room at a collector’s convention would stand still if ever some lucky seeker of celluloid stumbled across something along the lines of an IB Weekend In Havana, or maybe War Of The Worlds in Technicolor. Such moments were rare and therefore to be savored. It goes without saying that competition for such titles was fierce and unrelenting.


My own 16mm collecting days (now past --- I’ve been in recovery now for five years) were largely spent in the company of that august and well-regarded veteran of many years dealing in film --- Robert M. Cline of Thornhill Entertainment, a name well-known to anyone who has ever trafficked in 16mm. Mr. Cline and myself, along with a merry band of far-flung collecting comrades, were self-styled soldiers of fortune in the movie game, "knights without armor in a savage land", to quote Paladin’s theme song (our calling cards might well have read, Want Films – Will Travel). Our idea of fun was to scarf up every good title in a dealer’s room before it even opened. We’d be in the parking lot ready to deal when collectors drove up. A lot of rarities got no further than the trunk of someone’s car before they were diverted into our greedy hands. The thrill of the chase was its own reward. Knowing you’d scored a title everyone else wanted became an end in itself. I wouldn’t care to relive those days, but memories of them are the stuff of great nostalgia for Mr. Cline and myself.


"Sugared thoughts and hopeful suppositions"--- those were the words Bing used to describe Ichabod Crane’s desire for the fair Katrina in Disney’s animated Legend Of Sleepy Hollow --- and that phrase sums up my own fevered pursuit of the alleged sole existing 16mm IB Technicolor print of The Adventures Of Don Juan. Warner’s 1948 Errol Flynn actioner had always been among my favorites. I’d had an eastman print for years --- "straight eastman", we called them, because eventually, they’d fade. Legends persisted of one Technicolor print. Could it be had? First, I needed to track it down. Like the Maltese Falcon, it had gone through many hands. When at last I spoke to its then-current owner, progress was forever delayed by assorted vagaries of the negotiating process, a cumbersome thing requiring months, sometimes years, of a dedicated collector’s time and patience. Our deal was eventually made by phone, and final consummation of same was to take place at the seller’s home in upstate New York (for the life of me, I can’t even remember the name of that town anymore). Only coin of the realm would do --- no checks, nor negotiable instruments of any kind. Casper Gutman himself would have smiled upon our little enterprise. All that was left now was to fly up and take delivery. Simple, huh?


Robert Cline and I were driven to the collector’s house by an old friend of ours well acquainted with assorted by-ways of travel within the Empire state. By the time we reached our destination, I felt like Renfield at Borgo Pass. Our initial attempt to gain entrance at the given address on this bitterly cold winter’s day was met with silence. We knew our man was in there --- and after a while, the why of our not getting an answer at the door became clear --- it wasn’t yet dark. When we finally encountered our host, after an azure sun had given way to night, we understood. Now, mind you, we’d known eccentric collectors before (being more than a little screwy ourselves!), but never anything like this. Since I’d only given advance notice of Robert Cline as my travelling companion, our coachman was told he’d have to remain outside. It might have been judicious at that point to garland our vehicle with sprigs of wolfbane before leaving him to face the night alone, but time did not permit. After all, Don Juan was waiting! Our brief stop in the kitchen (heaven forbid not to eat, as the refrigerator still bore the seal of the Seven Jackals) revealed something I’d not seen before --- to wit, no ceiling, and no floor in the upstairs room directly above --- only a few boards that seemed to be suspended in mid-air, and a distant view of the second floor ceiling. One could only despair for some luckless individual who might wander into that perilous space. Fortunately, as our quarry resided in the basement, we would not venture into harm’s way. As we made our journey below ground, we heard the asthmatic wheeze of a basement furnace, belching its accursed fumes over an Aladdin’s cave of filmic treasures the likes of which no human eyes had beheld since the opening of King Tut’s burial chamber. I was only mildly disappointed not to find armadillos scuttering about this space, nor a fruit cellar in evidence, though somehow, we still felt mother’s presence (the collector apparently lived alone). I won’t bore you with details of what lay within this veritable Solomon’s mine of movies. Suffice to say Mr. Cline responded much as Daffy did when the postman brought his new issue of Duck Twacey. Unfortunately, his entreaties to buy were summarily rebuffed. The deal was for Adventures Of Don Juan --- no more, no less. The stuff we had to leave behind was enough to make grown men cry. It was the one time in my life I saw boxes filled to overflowing with untouched Technicolor Warner cartoons, still on cores, with their original lab stickers. Ah, sweet memories. That print of Adventures Of Don Juan that meant so much to me over fifteen years ago is now the object of an ebay auction conducted by Robert Cline’s Thornhill Entertainment. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d part with it, but times change, as do priorities. I hope whoever ends up with it will enjoy it as much as I did. They can’t experience the same adventure of acquiring it, but perhaps they're better off for that.

We Interrupt Today's Work On The Big Sleep...


We’ve just had a break in shooting The Big Sleep. It seems Mr. Hawks has gotten the transcript of Tuesday’s Home Theater Forum live chat with Warner DVD representatives, and he can’t wait to share the big news about forthcoming titles with stars Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. A disinterested Louis Jean Heydt is on the sidelines, having already announced that he’s sticking with his laser disc collection. Bogie’s expression betrays his excitement over WB exec George Feltenstein’s promise that Halloween 2006 will bring the DVD release of all those 30’s horror titles we’ve been waiting for --- Mask Of Fu Manchu, The Walking Dead, Mad Love, and Mark Of The Vampire. "Hey, Betty", he says, "Look at this! They’re even coming out with The Giant Behemoth, Queen Of Outer Space, and lots more of those long-awaited Allied Artists sci-fi titles folks have been asking about!" "But don’t overlook that Prisoner Of Zenda collection", warns Mr.Hawks, "…all three versions!" His secretary there in the corner (her name’s Margaret Cunningham, by the way) has just noticed those Norma Shearers on the promised list, and another film noir box --- and what about those silents! The Big Parade, The Crowd, Show People, lots more --- and the early Warner Doris Day titles are on the way too. Bogie’s still flipping through those Q&A’s, his hands trembling with anticipation. "Here’s a Gangsters 2 box, and more of my pictures in the pipeline…and here’s a Cagney box, and a Bob Mitchum collection. Wow! No wonder Warners is considered the hands-down best DVD producer in the business!" "Well, that’s something we can all agree on", says an avuncular Howard Hawks, "…guess there won’t be any more work getting done on this set today. Let's all send Warners an e-mail congratulating them on the terrific job they're doing, with our assurances that we’ll be first in line to purchase all those great DVDs on Warner’s 2006 release schedule!"


The above flight of fancy reflects our heady excitement over what looks to be the biggest DVD release year so far for those champions of classic movies over at Warners. Under the leadership of veteran disc producer and historian George Feltenstein, this company has set a standard of quality unsurpassed in the industry. Warner’s ongoing annual status as DVD Producer Of The Year has become a foregone conclusion. No one comes close to their level of quality and commitment. If you’d like to read the transcript of this week’s live chat, here’s the LINK. So many great titles are forthcoming, not to mention all those great short subjects that are part and parcel of most Warner DVD releases. Each new box set arrival is like Christmas morning here at the Greenbriar. Keep up the great work, guys!

Some Good People Born This Past Week


Sometimes, in a crowded week, there might be ten or twelve names we’d like to address for the birth date round-up, but space best permits about four, so here’s a handful of likeable players who share this writer’s own February birth-month. First up is Jack Benny (2-14), and this color shot shows he and wife Mary Livingstone in an early-forties pose. I do still maintain an unwavering opinion that Jack had the funniest ongoing comedy persona of all time. The fact that he mined it for well over forty years, without its becoming stale, is nothing short of miraculous. Even his last NBC specials from the early seventies are gems. Too bad we can’t see those anymore. I used to have a video of a Benny show, I think it’s from around 1954, where his guest was Humphrey Bogart. Amazing. Despite his near elder-statesman status in the business, Bogie still reverted back to the public image his audience knew best --- Duke Mantee --- for his comedy sketch with Jack. That gangster thing followed him to the very end. Well, so did Jack’s miser tag, even though he was well-known off-stage for his generosity, and for being a nice guy in a comedy jungle where a lot of our most "beloved" names were real bastards as soon as the lights went down. Not Jack.


Now honestly, was there ever an actor who projected more sincerity than Hugh Beaumont (2-16)? I’m not even sure it was acting. Maybe all the stuff that was happening to Ward Clever was really happening to Hugh, and we just didn’t realize it at the time. That’s how good he was. Total conviction, and he really seemed to listen to other actors when they spoke. So why didn’t his feature career take off? Well, he wasn’t bigger than life, for one thing. Not the movie star type, exactly. As it turned out, the family sitcom was ideal for him, but I wonder if Hugh wanted more. He didn’t work much after Beaver --- I'll never forget one time on Medical Center, the O.R. door opened, and in walked Hugh, with white hair! Did the producers of that show have any idea of the effect that iconic face would have after what was then a seven-year absence? I don’t recall anything else about that episode, but I sure remember that moment. Hugh ended up in Spartanburg, SC, living with his son, I think. Close enough that I could have looked him up. Bet he would have been very gracious. What a shame he just missed the Beaver reunion TV movie. Lousy as that turned out to be, it could have sure used his reassuring presence. By the way, this still is from Anthony Mann’s Railroaded, a crackerjack noir that’s available on DVD. That’s Mrs. Pat Buttram (Sheila Ryan) and John Ireland with Hugh.


Here’s Ann Sheridan (2-21) lounging on a bear skin rug at Warners. She said years later that she hated that rug. It was tatty, and smelled real bad. Guess it’s kinda hard to machine wash those things, and would a dry cleaners accept them? The ones around here wouldn’t. Anyway, Annie was one of those gals that smoked her lunch every day. Cagney used to watch her at the commissary and be fascinated. She’d order a plate of scrambled eggs, then push them around with her fork as she went through a chain of fags, lighting one after another despite Jim’s health warnings. Well, that’s what got her in the end, of course, that and the alcohol. She’s one of those actresses that really aged quick. By the fifties, it was more or less character work for her, but there were still good ones (ever see Come Next Spring?). One of these days we’ll have to do a Monday Glamour Starter for her. Now that I think of it, why didn’t she do more pictures with Howard Hawks? They would have been a perfect team. At the risk of sounding too autuerish here, I think her performance in Torrid Zone is very Hawksian.


I promised myself I wouldn’t use a Kevin McCarthy (2-15) still from Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, and this nice shot of he and Eddie Robinson from Nightmare is the fulfillment of that solemn pledge. Kevin’s great, of course, and blessed be, he’s still with us. I actually got to spend some time with him back in 1989, when he came to our little NC village with his Harry Truman one-man show. We drove to and from the Greensboro airport together, and had dinner at the Holiday Inn. He was terrific. I’d met a few celebrities before, but never had I spent so much time around one. He regaled me with stories about the making of Hotel (Merle!), Kansas City Bomber, and, of course, the pod movie. What a great experience. Of all the big names this country boy ever encountered (and there haven’t been that many), Kev was by far the nicest. Happy birthday, sir!

On The Road With Clark Gable --- Part 2

Well, we just got to the Colorado location to shoot Across The Wide Missouri. Gable’s speedy gas-buggy is no worse for the wear, and he’s ready to start work. "Work" in this case involves a lot than just doing the movie ... Seems Mrs. Gable decided it might be fun to tag along, so here she is to cast a little feminine ray of sunshine over those long, gloomy days in the remote wilderness. Lady Sylvia’s got their cabin all dolled up like home, and don’t worry about her --- she’ll pass the time with painting and crocheting while Clark pulls those long hours being heroic for the cameras. Everybody knows this marriage is headed for the shoals, but for the sake of the fan press, Mr. and Mrs. Gable are willing to make nice and pretend their wedded life is simply idyllic, just like every other couple in Hollywood. They say the camera never lies, however, and it looks as though our photographer has revealed a little more than the Gables, let alone MGM, intended.



First, a little time off for fishing, and can’t you tell Clark’s just de-lighted to have the wife along. He’d be even happier if she’d leave his rod the hell alone. And isn’t she just too pristine in her outdoorsy outfit? Imagine her sawing the heads off fish they’re going to catch --- catch, that is, if she’ll stop doodling around with the man’s rod (time for that later, says Clark). What if would-be fisherwoman Sylvia were to go headfirst into that mighty river, just like Bill Powell did in that rib tickling Libelled Lady sequence? Bet the fan mags would have a blast with a shot of that, even if they were barred from the Metro lot for life as a result. This angling expedition won’t last much longer. Lady Sylvia broke a nail and had to be rushed to the infirmary.

Here are the Gables checking out some of Sylvia’s artistic handiwork. Wonder where that canvas hangs today. We like to speculate on little things like that. Clark’s probably speculating on how long it will take to get his stuff packed once they get back to the ranch. Howard Strickling and the guys in publicity asked him to make it look good at least for the location gig. After that, all bets are off. But can Gable hold his temper even for that long? ….

Okay, here’s where things gets dicey. It’s breakfast time, and the Gables are having a nice cup of coffee together. So far, so good. He can fake that. Then the publicity shutterbug gets the idea it might be fun to stage a little husband/wife disagreement over the newspaper --- so he’s instructed Clark to "act" annoyed over Sylvia’s interference with his reading. Here’s the original back caption --- "WOMEN’S PAGE … OR SPORT’S PAGE? The Gables, like all married couples, should really have two newspapers" --- or two residences, he’s thinking, preferably separate ones. Just look at that snarl! If this is acting, we’ve been underestimating this guy for too long. Judging by his deep tan, it looks as though they’ve been cooped up on location for several long weeks by now, and that’s just enough for Clark to have had a snootfull of Sylvia. Better to pass the time with actor buds James Whitmore and Ricardo Montalban (isn’t this the movie where Ricardo got that back injury that almost scuttled his career?). In Sylvia’s defense, I will say she doesn’t look much happier than her husband in this outdoor shot. That’s a pretty nice afghan she’s working on, but I wish she wouldn’t let it lay on the ground like that. Whitmore or Montalban are liable to walk by and step on it. Oh, and for the record, the Gables split within a few months after this trip.

Monday's Glamour Starter --- Merle Oberon

A friend of mine from school used to be a dedicated fan of Merle Oberon. He thought she was sheer perfection. Back in the late sixties, he’d order stills of her from Movie Star News in Manhattan, and when her movies turned up at 4:00 a.m. on some obscure New Jersey TV station, he’d either stay up all night, or set his alarm, to see them. When Hotel surfaced at a local drive-in around 1968, he celebrated his recent acquisition of a driver’s license to go there alone, during a rainstorm, to watch his idol. Because his windshield wipers tended to obstruct a clear view of Merle, he got out and stood beside his car to watch the show, all the while holding his umbrella to guard against the elements. Now that story is by way of illustrating just how powerful an effect some of these actresses had in their day. For my friend, at least, the Magic Of Merle reached years beyond her own era of prominence, for she was well into semi-retirement when he first discovered her. Merle’s biggest problem lay in the fact that she didn’t make many important pictures. If you take away Wuthering Heights, the woman’s pretty well stripped naked. I personally like Divorce Of Lady X, Lydia, A Song To Remember, and a few others --- and of course, The Lodger is an all-time favorite I could watch every day. Now if they had put Merle’s real-life story on the screen, they would have really had something. As a matter of fact, they did tell it once --- in the TV movie, Queenie --- which was actually a fictionalized story suggested by her life.

Good luck trying to figure out the origins of Merle Oberon. All the evidence suggests Merle didn’t even know who she really was. One thing was certain. This woman had lots to hide about her background, especially in a day when an uncertain racial heritage could absolutely wipe out a career. Poor thing was still dishing out the fiction about her beginnings right up to the end, way beyond the point when it could have possibly mattered. That was 1978, when she was invited "back" to her supposed birthplace in Hobart, Tasmania, where her hosts were alarmed to find that there was absolutely no record of Merle having been born there. The local press went nuts, and Miss Oberon beat a hasty retreat back home, avoiding the prying inquiries that awaited her now-cancelled appearances. Within a year she was dead, having withdrawn from public life with her last husband, much younger actor Robert Wolders. Some Australian producers later got interested in her story, and eventually came to reveal an even more convoluted account of her early years. It had been rumored she was "half-caste", with an Anglo father and an Indian mother. Merle even brought her dark-skinned mother to Hollywood after the career took off, and passed the woman off as her personal maid! --- and this charade went on for years! Wowzers --- what they wouldn’t do in those days to stay on top. Well, in a way, you can’t blame Merle too much --- after all, she’d grown up on the "shabby streets of Bombay" (anyhow, it was one of those places us pampered stateside dwellers would not want to end up). So she spent the formative years living by her wits, and living off some rich guys, as she took the name of Queenie O’Brien and assumed the role of club hostess at a U.K. hotspot. Well, that’s one story, if you choose to believe it. The other is that she was born in Tasmania --- to a Chinese woman named Lottie Chintock. Got that straight? Good, because now I’m hopelessly confused. Seems there was a sister who turned out to be the mother, and two or three guys who might have been the father (one thing’s sure, Merle was born out of wedlock). The woman had to put in extra closets for all her skeletons. Why couldn’t she have been born fifty years later so she could go on Oprah with all this stuff?

This first still shows Pixie-Cute Merle as one of those irresistible sprites that disrupts the staid life of a pre-major stardom Laurence Olivier in an Alexander Korda (her at-the-time husband) comedy, The Divorce Of Lady X, which I really like because she looks great in Technicolor, and Larry is haughty, priggish, and arrogant, and that’s how I prefer him too. Nothing irritates this writer more than Larry doing accents. He must be lordly and British --- at all times --- unless he’s ancient Roman, which is OK, because everybody knows ancient Romans were really just like British aristocracy, only with togas. Here they are again in the same year’s Wuthering Heights, and the story is that Larry was mean to Merle during that one because he'd wanted paramour Vivien Leigh to play opposite him. Larry could be priggish in real life too, as he would readily admit in elder statesman interviews. That mighty pretty color shot is from Lydia, a super-lush woman’s pic she made (also for Korda) in 1941. She’s pursued for years in that one by a brace of suitors that include Joe Cotten and that wonderful actor whom it’s always a pleasure to see, George Reeves (in one of his most substantial feature roles!). Merle’s caught in a Laird Cregar chokehold in this shot from The Lodger --- I can still visualize that one on the little TV set in my Grandmother’s house some forty years ago, and me struggling to keep the volume low enough so as not to wake the house. Is it any wonder this is an absolute personal fave of mine? Please, Fox, reunite me with Laird --- bring out that elusive DVD now!


Here’s one I’m waiting for Sony to release (what a shame we can’t call them Columbia anymore) --- A Song To Remember, with Merle in mannish attire as George Sand and robust Cornel Wilde as frail and sickly Frederic Chopin. I always liked Chopin because his music plays great with 8mm silent films. When I was fourteen, I’d break out those waltzes and etudes for everything from Griffith Biographs to Fatty Arbuckle Keystones. Old Fred never let me down. Take it from me, his stuff is ready-made for every musical occasion. As Tim Holt said about radio in His Kind Of Woman, I think it’s here to stay! Okay, a little side tribute to wrap up the Merle story. Here she is in a run-down-at-the-heels vid series she hosted entitled Assignment – Foreign Legion in 1957. Don’t bother looking for it on TV Land. The negatives are probably baking in one of those sweatbox units out in Burbank somewhere, if the landlord hasn’t already junked them for non-payment of storage fees. Anyway, that’s poor old Tom Conway in the role of a "fortune hunter" --- his own fortunes none too promising as he had only recently finished a gig in AIP’s Voodoo Woman, and class work of the sort he’d known not too many years before at RKO would sadly not come Tom’s way again. He was estranged from brother George Sanders (everybody got estranged from George sooner or later), and was barely surviving in lonely dipso squalor on the fringes of our wonderful industry that always remembers its own. Tom would wrap it up in the mid-sixties doing sympathy turns on old friend Ray Burr’s Perry Mason series. Too bad, cause he was really a good actor, and even toward the end, always turned in a pro job. Sorry Merle, we still love you, but we just had to give old Tom the final salute. He didn’t get to die a millionaire like you did.

Pepsi Break For Lon and Brod


It’s Pepsi time on location for Universal’s big bruisers in residence, Lon Chaney Jr, and Brod Crawford, as they take an unexpected soft drink break from the rigors of yet another interchangeable "B" actioner in which they’re starred. You can’t tell us these boys didn’t have another bottle stowed away in the hollow of one of those trees North Of The Klondike. The very idea of marooning Chaney and Crawford in the wilderness without stronger libation would just be unthinkable. Evie seems content enough with her soda pop, but Lon looks downright threatening. Unless that bottle’s spiked, we fear the big guy’s gonna be making some trouble in the next few minutes. Brod seems a little more composed. Has he told Lon about that thermos he smuggled onto the set? If not, these two are liable to come to blows --- and it won’t be the first time either!

A Trip Back To 1938


When I look at a still like this, it’s almost as though I were staring into some alternate universe, a place that surely never existed, for the thrill of going there and seeing it for real would be just too delirious. Of course, other people feel that way about basketball tournaments, or NASCAR museums, so to each his own, but if this writer could indeed go back in time to any era or place, this one would be as good a start as any. Grindhouses, those lowly little theatres that opened early, and played late (if not all night), were a staple in every town of any size, and often as not, they’d load up the bill with at least three features, all of them second-run at best. Those projectors would grind through long days on a continuous basis --- no breaks or intermission --- that’s where the "grind" got its name. You could walk into one of these joints anytime, as it didn’t matter what was on that screen. Chances are you're there to get warm, or sleep off a three-day drunk, or maybe find a dark corner in the balcony to consummate a new relationship. That’s what the movies were for back then. Maybe it’s as well industry people, let alone the stars, never frequented such places. It would have been disillusioning, if not dangerous. I’ve always loved the idea of a grindhouse. They had absolutely no pretensions. Bookings were, for the most part, indiscriminate. Cheap rentals were the guiding light, and the bill changed every other day most of the time. That meant having to constantly rip down all those gorgeous posters. Most of the time you could return them for a credit, unless they were glued them to the board. In those days, with so many pedestrians on the streets, you had to grab their attention walking by, and hope that on impulse, they might walk in.


See this guy standing there with the bag? That’s me --- and it’s 1938. Seems I was able to sneak into that collector's garage, the one with Rod Taylor’s old Time Machine prop, and guess what? It worked. So here I am, and boy, I can’t wait to get in there and get started! Maybe I’ll get to see Death Fangs first. It’s only a 1934 short subject, but Flash The Wonder Dog is in it, and he always gives good value for your dime’s admission. First I need a little snack. Hmmm, that chili con carne might be good for ten cents, or how about that slap-down breakfast --- two eggs, bread, coffee, and orange juice for seventeen cents. Kinda steep, but it’ll hold me through a five-hour show, I guess. Man, these posters are nice. Wonder if the manager will believe me when I tell him they'll be worth a fortune in about sixty years? Better not. No need in getting beat up or arrested on my first trip back in time. That’s liable to happen in any case once I enter the dark environs of this place. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the nickel hot dog at that little place behind me. Say, didn’t they use real dogs to make the things back then? Folks were pretty strapped, after all . My stomach’s feeling kinda funny just thinking about that. Now, let’s see --- what’s on the program --- That Girl From Paris --- well, I sure didn’t come sixty-eight years back in time to see a 1936 Lily Pons/Jack Oakie vehicle! Okay, how about Sweetheart Of The Navy --- that’s 1937, only a year old, but Eric Linden and Cecilia Parker? Boy, that manager needs some of my expert guidance. Maybe I’ll tell the guy he should bring in a triple bill of Captain Blood, King Kong, and The Thin Man. Then again, maybe not. From the looks of him, standing deep within the recesses of that inner lobby, he doesn't seem the sort who’d be responsive to booking suggestions. Oh well, there’s always the third feature, One Way Passage, from 1932. Bill Powell and Kay Francis are in that one, and if it gets underway pretty soon, I can get back to 2006 in time to visit the emergency room and deal with that hot dog.

Coloring Giant Ants!

Ask a sci-fi fan to name the most memorable feature of Them! and they’re likely to mention those giant marauding ants, or the creepy and evocative opening scene with little Sandy Descher walking through the desert. It’s a blue-ribbon sci-fi classic filled with unforgettable moments, and there’s no use in our revisiting them here when others have so thoroughly covered the subject (are there any sci-fi pics left from the fifties that haven’t been exhaustively researched?). Fact is I like Them! so much, having just watched it again last week, that I just had to sit down and write something about it --- but what’s left to say? Then it hit me --- the coloring contest! Having been amazed by the publicity blitzkrieg discovered in some June, 1954 issues of our local small-town newspaper during a recent microfilm expedition, I decided a little further research might be in order ---







What I found was possibly the biggest local campaign any picture had in our little town that year. The drumbeat started three weeks in advance of the playdate at the Allen Theatre (which seated 450, had a balcony, but no stage). The newspaper carried its first announcement of the coloring contest, and as you can see, these were no penny ante Cracker-Jack prizes. RCA Victor televisions were a heady proposition in a community where few families even owned a TV, and those other prizes no doubt generated excitement in a lot of households as well. In fact, I'm betting a lot of adults put crayon to paper in an effort to assist Junior in collecting these valuable goodies. As you can see by the "Coloring Contest Entry Blank", the idea was to imagine how the ants would look in color, and I’d love to know if any of those original entries survive today. The Allen unleashed the monsters on June 27, 1954, and Them! played a three-day engagement, which was pretty much the outside maximum run for any movie in our town, unless it was The Ten Commandments. Even when I going as a kid in the mid to late sixties, we almost never had anything for more than three days, and three to five program changes a week was pretty much the norm back then. No doubt Them! did socko biz for the Allen, as it followed Creature From The Black Lagoon (in 3-D, of course) by a week, and was itself displaced by Dial M For Murder. If there was ever a filmgoing paradise on this earth, it must have been the Allen in June, 1954.

For those of you who always dreamed of becoming a Them fighter (just like the regular civilian defense wears!), here is your opportunity. I’ve uploaded this authentic (and novel!) armband that you can print, cut out, and wear everywhere you go! You’ll no doubt arouse much comment and speculation among friends and neighbors, right up to the moment you’re taken in for questioning. As Randy Scott would say in a Budd Boetticher western, you can go proud in a Them armband! And by the way, does anyone know Mrs. J.D. Campbell of Midville, Ohio? Is it possible that Mr. Campbell was a Warners exchange man in that area, or a starving Ohio exhibitor hoping to get better terms for upcoming WB releases? Mrs. Campbell certainly doesn’t look like the kind of patron who would enjoy a picture like Them!. In fact, she more resembles the sort who would try to prevent other people from enjoying Them!. And public safety concerns do compel us to point out the hazards inherent in that proposed street bally. To wit, if those girls intend to walk shoulder-to-shoulder down city sidewalks, where does that leave their fellow pedestrians? Dangerously close to, if not in, the street, I should think. And finally, does anyone actually possess that Art Carney "novelty record"? I can’t imagine what a thing like that would sound like, but I’d sure like to hear it. If anyone has one, please enlighten us all!





Finally, Them! at the boxoffice. I’ve read over and over about how this was Warner’s biggest moneymaker in 1954. How it out-grossed all those big pictures like A Star Is Born, etc. Well, it’s true the movie was a hit, but it certainly wasn’t their biggest hit. Them! had a negative cost of $1.2 million, and earned $1.6 in domestic rentals. Foreign rentals were $890,000, and worldwide was $2.5 million, with a final profit of $685,000. That’s fantastic for a sci-fi show, but it’s nowhere near what Dial M For Murder brought back --- or Drum Beat with Alan Ladd (anybody remember that one?). Them! was more profitable than A Star Is Born, even though the musical grossed more (its final figure in black ink was only $164,000, due to the exorbitant costs). The really big smashes that year were The High and The Mighty ($4.6 profit), and believe it or not, the Dragnet feature with Jack Webb ($3.3 to the good)! Both of these ran rings around the ants, but it’s no discredit to Them!, since legacy-wise, it seems to have emerged the clear winner.

The Many Faces Of Dick Powell

I'm going out on a limb here and making a declaration which all readers can disagree with or correct me on. Here goes --- Dick Powell was the only major star to successfully undergo a complete image change, becoming an even bigger star than he'd been with the old image. There --- now name someone else who did that. As Dell Henderson said in Choo Choo, I dare you, I defy you! Over the years, I’ve asked a number of friends to address the issue --- no one yet has proposed another actor or actress who did it. And remember --- it has to be a total transformation --- not just an occasional casting against type. Okay, enough of that. Back to Dick.


Dick Powell was a great actor and a visionary producer. Some people like him best in those singing Warner parts, but I think he’s best in film noir. Sometimes he came off insipid in early musicals, but that wasn’t Dick’s fault. One feels his embarrassment in those, that underlying desire to push a grapefruit into Ruby Keeler’s face. By 1936, Dick’s need to bust out of those song-fests was palpable --- just consider the costumes he wore in Hearts Divided, with Marion Davies. Why not put on a dress on the man and be done with it? By way of compensation, I understand Dick did have a fling with his leading lady, though the record doesn't reflect his having woke up the next morning with a horse-head sharing his bed (W.R. Hearst presumably having mellowed somewhat by this time). In the wake of the Warners sentence, Dick found pickings even slimmer elsewhere. Paramount wanted him to sing some more (and whose idea was that pencil mustache?), and Universal added insult to injury by placing him in support of Abbott and Costello! Now mind you, In The Navy is fine if you like the boys, but it didn’t take a sooth-sayer to know Dick’s career was in big trouble by this time. They say he really went after Double Indemnity at Paramount and no doubt would have been great in Fred’s part (not that Fred was any slouch). Anyway, Dick met the head studio dog in an elevator shortly after and read him the riot act. Surprisingly, Dick's onerous contract was settled then and there, leaving Dick to set up Murder, My Sweet at RKO ....


This first still is Smiling Dick from Footlight Parade, a great picture, but Cagney’s picture. That’s a fab hat Dick’s wearing, but we suspect he’d rather have worn Jim’s shoes. Dick was known as a "pleasing tenor". Do tenors please anyone anymore? Maybe so, but I doubt any future (male) stars will break into the business based on that qualification. Next is Wide-Eyed Dick half-smiling for the Sunday section. Is that deadly (in the good sense) suit his way of letting us know a change is in the air? Maybe he’s just gotten off that Paramount elevator --- still a little startled, uncertain of the future, but determined to forge ahead.


Well, this next fabulous shot is the New Dick Powell (that’s how the posters read) in Murder, My Sweet. We never tire of seeing Dick in that picture. Watch what he does with props next time. Always picking things up off desktops, sniffing a cigarette before he’ll put it in his mouth, etc. I wish other actors were as good with handy objects. Ever seen Dick do his thing with hotel keys? Look at Cornered --- it’s beautiful. And when he gets off that train at the beginning of Cry Danger! (great, great movie, by the way), watch how he tests the weight of his suitcase, as if determining whether someone’s heisted anything out of it. Then there's proof that Dick could do a western, and a good one --- Station West (1948), and that’s Jane Greer with him (can you believe this doll was once married to Rudy Vallee?). Lots of good dialogue here, and Ray Burr’s the villain. Finally, there's Dick after he became one of the absolute power centers in early television. Lots of people have forgotten what a pioneer he was in that field. You could say he invented the whole concept of big stars doing anthology work. Nobody said no when Dick called. Look at this ensemble for just one 1961 episode of The Dick Powell Show (he produced, hosted, and sometimes performed). From left to right, Ronald Reagan (looks like Ron was in about the same shape here as Dick just before he left Paramount --- talk about a complete forthcoming image change!), Nick Adams (Frankenstein Conquers The World still a bright star on his horizon), Lloyd Bridges (what a drag it must have been having to swim your parts), Mickey Rooney (is there anyone he didn't work with?), Edgar Bergen (I challenge you to detect this man’s lips moving!), Jack Carson (beatnik attire, Jack?), Ralph Bellamy (bet he either doesn’t get the girl or is revealed to be the surprise killer, maybe both), Kay Thompson (Think Pink!), Dean Jones (always seemed too open and friendly for serious parts) --- seated is Carolyn Jones (girlfriend Ann got to see her on stage once) --- and the man in charge (you can tell by his expression), Dick Powell. What a shame he died so young in 1963. Aaron Spelling often said Dick was his mentor (but would Dick have given us The Love Boat?). We’ve seen pictures of his son, by last wife June Allyson, and he looks exactly like Dick. Wonder if Allyson owned the rights to all those shows he produced. Anybody know? We’d love to see them on DVD some day, just for the star-studded casts, if nothing else.

Chaplin Mutual Revivals


Everyone pretty much agrees that the Mutual Chaplin comedies made in 1916-17 were his best short subjects. Some would say they are the best group of two-reelers anyone ever made. I think it’s pretty miraculous that comedies produced ninety years ago can still work with a general audience. Having played these for college classes over the last decade, I’ve been pleased, though not surprised, by the response they’ve earned. Those of us who started out collecting 8mm film during the sixties will always harbor a certain sentiment toward this Chaplin group. Blackhawk Films used to sell them --- I used to cut grass in order to buy them. Twelve dollars could put you on Easy Street in 1969, and if Blackhawk was having one of their sales, you could visit The Rink for as little as ten! Every frame of those twelve comedies became embedded in my memory from the time I was fourteen. I’d seen several on the old Charlie Chaplin Theatre syndicated TV program (which was often very good), but of course, owning a print was the ultimate goal, and after three years of diligent effort, I did manage to get all twelve. Now, of course, you can have them in a superb DVD for a fraction of what we then paid. The thrill of the chase is gone, perhaps, but it’s nice we have modern technology enabling everyone to have these shorts, and at a low price.


These trade ads caught my attention, as they promote both the original release, and the first sound re-issue of the Mutuals. Announcements of The Cure appeared in the March 24, 1917 issue of Moving Picture World (coincidentally one week to the day after this writer’s mother was born). The rather grainy still of a theatre entrance display for The Pawnshop shows creative showmanship as alive and well in 1917 --- note how they’ve redressed the whole place to resemble a pawnshop --- and this was all done to promote a short subject! Next there's two RKO ads for an upcoming revival of the Mutuals with music and effects. Silent comedies, even Chaplins, would not have been an easy sell in those first years of sound (these trade ads are from 1932), and this is one of those rare instances where a distributor actually reached out for exhibitor ideas in marketing their product. The Van Burens would remain in circulation for decades to come. In fact, it was these prints that formed the basis for preservation work done over the last thirty plus years. This page from a 1975 Blackhawk Bulletin announces the availability of newly restored 8 and 16mm prints for collectors. Note the prices. They’d just gone up significantly because of a so-called "silver crisis" that had occurred the year before. Between that and video's emergence in the late seventies, film collecting was dealt a blow from which it could never recover. Blackhawk eventually closed its doors, and all those celluloid treasures made their way to attics and ebay. Chances are if you check that auction site right now, you’ll find most, if not all of the twelve Charlie Chaplin Mutual comedies up for bids.

Just A Quick Reminder

As you know, we've had a few minor problems with the program over the last few days, but are happy to say that most of them are now resolved. In an effort to stay a little ahead on postings, we had recently started composing our stories, laying them out, then saving them as documents. When it's came time to publish, however, we discovered that the "new" post would occasionally show up below an older post on the page you're looking at now. If you'll scroll past the Carole Lombard story from yesterday, you'll find today's Kiddie Show and Horror Hosts posting. A little confusing, perhaps, but that's how Blogger works. We're just putting up this little note to let you know there is something new today, even though the top of the page may be from yesterday --- well, at least until we publish this explanation, which we now realize only deepens the confusion. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just forget the whole thing and delete this rambling missive. Guess not. Instead, why not throw up something interesting to look at while you're trying to figure out the whole mess? That would be Harold Lloyd in an original trade ad from 1917. Lonesome Luke was a character Harold played for several years before introducing his "glasses" persona. Luke was a little too Keystonish to suit Lloyd, who wanted to play something more identifiable for his audience --- a character more grounded in reality. The Lukes were successful, but the glasses character made Harold the giant star we remember today. He kept prints of the Luke comedies for years in a storage locker on his estate, but a nitrate fire took most of them out in the forties. Some of them survive today, but most remain lost.

More On Carole Lombard



A few years back, a good friend and Lombard historian told me the incredible story of an aviation buff who'd located and examined the wreckage of Carole Lombard's plane, the one on which she and 21 other passengers died that fateful evening of January 16, 1942. Just getting to this site is an incredible ordeal. First there's a jeep ride over rocky terrain, then the hike on foot, which takes hours, they say. The mountain peak they hit that night was 8000 ft. high, so you can imagine the effort of reaching it. Over the last sixty plus years, a number of scavengers have made the trek, and the incredible thing is, they’re still finding artifacts from the crash, including personal effects. One scavenger actually discovered a piece of Lombard’s jewelry with her monogram --- and this was within the last ten years! There's a plane engine embedded yet in a rock wall on the mountain's face. Pieces of the landing gear are still there. The only reason they haven’t been carried out is because they’re too heavy and unwieldy. Smaller pieces of the wreck have been hauled down and sold on ebay. Maybe you’ve seen the listings now and then. There’s something morbidly fascinating about a hobby like that, or maybe it’s just plain morbid. According to various websites (HERE’S the most detailed one), there are folks who travel from one plane crash site to another, just looking for clues as to how and why. The Lombard mountain is a rite of passage for these air disaster enthusiasts. My girlfriend thinks that owning such artifacts would be ill-advised, that to do so might bring evil tidings, and result in a haunted house. Indeed, it may be unwise to disturb those restless spirits up on that mountain, and to sell recovered articles from such hallowed ground (on ebay, yet!) would seem to invite disaster. All I can say to the prospect of making that trip is --- include me out…


Nothing’s harder than selecting the best of these glamour shots for our Monday postings. For Carole Lombard, I wanted to include a few striking pre-code images along with the later stuff, so here she is in some early 30’s publicity poses. That set grouping is for The Princess Comes Across, a 1936 comedy with Fred MacMurray, seen with her here. I assume that's director William K. Howard in the chair, although there's no caption to confirm it. I couldn’t resist one of those gorgeous rotogravures (the one on the bed) from a typical Sunday newspaper section of the day. Each week, subscribers could depend on at least one beautiful color image of a favorite star. Fortunately, a lot of readers saved them. Finally, there’s a color image from a Paramount exhibitor’s annual heralding the 1934-35 season, wherein Carole was announced for another teaming with Gary Cooper in Twenty Hours By Air, an intriguing project for the two which was subsequently cancelled.

Kiddie Shows and Horror Hosts


Dick Bennick was one of those jack-of-all-trades TV station guys that worked for a number of years at WGHP in High Point, NC. The station had signed on, as an ABC affiliate, in 1963 (I was watching when they did --- the opening broadcast was a Woody Woodpecker Show). It seemed Dick was doing every local hosting gig in the building --- from weather reporting to kid-show barking, local ads for car dealerships, the whole enchilada --- then he stumbled into the late-night horror movie spot, and that’s where he achieved immortality. His first step was tentative, replacing a guy who’d been suiting up every Friday night as "Count Shockula" and wearing a rather inexpressive mask that disguised both the face and personality. Dick endured this for a while, even parlayed it into an occasional spook show job at one of the local theatres (see the "Mess America" ad), but Dick knew Count Shockula was a dead end. His more genial alter ego served as master-of-ceremonies for the Saturday morning kiddie shows at the Carolina Theatre in Winston-Salem, NC. When I recently spoke to the then-manager, now in his hale-and-hearty nineties, he recalled that Dick got no pay for those appearances, but was permitted to tie-in as many merchants as he could, and keep whatever coin he could generate (the products would be displayed on stage during Dick’s M.C. spots). Everybody made out like bandits. Film rentals were dirt-cheap, as they never spent more than $25 for a feature film booking. Dick would whip kids into a frenzy with a live rock combo, plus prize giveaways with the Bingo games. Girls would come up and dance with the band, much as they'd seen it performed on TV's Shindig and Hullabaloo. I got to know one of those "Go-Go Girls" years later --- she recalled gyrating on the stage for a half-hour or so, then settling back to watch a Hammer film, or an AIP Poe thriller, plus a serial chapter, every week at the Carolina. I used to look at the ads each Saturday in the newspaper and dream of attending those things. What nirvana that must have been.


Anyway, back to Dick Bennick. He came up with a new character to host Shock Theatre on Friday nights. Dr. Paul Bearer was the name (get it?), and Dick wrote material every week for his new creation. The passing of the torch was solemnized when Paul invaded Count Shockula’s lair one night and drove a stake through his heart during the broadcast (they must have used a stand-in for Shockula that night, since Dick had played both). From that moment, his success was assured. The movies Channel 8 used for the show were a mixed bag, but there were the Val Lewton RKO’s, as well as rarities along the lines of Doctor X and The Walking Dead. After a few more years with Channel 8, Dick beat it for another station in Florida and became a local sensation with his Paul Bearer act. He died in 1995. That’s Paul (Dick) in the still, of course, and the two ads are representative of terrific shows he hosted each week at the Carolina. I deliberately left Elvis and Spinout for the sake of context. That's Thanksgiving weekend of 1966, by the way. The Nonagenarian manager who so kindly recalled those halcyon days told me that his "First Annual" Mess America Pageant was also the last. I guess when you’ve seen one of those pageants, you’ve seen them all, but what a thrill it would have been to catch all that action on stage, plus The Skull on screen, and all for only a dollar!

Monday's Glamour Starter --- Carole Lombard


What if Carole Lombard had lived? Would stardom have continued through the war, and beyond? Her generation of leading ladies, including those who started out at Paramount with her --- Marlene Dietrich, Claudette Colbert, Mae West --- would all experience a post-war slump. These actresses were older than Lombard, but you wonder how she might have dealt with the kind of changes that were coming at the time of her death in January 1942. Those RKO dramas she’d made during those final years were, for the most part, losers at the boxoffice. Vigil In The Night showed a deficit of $327,000, and They Knew What They Wanted came up with $291,000 in red ink. Even the comedies were beginning to pall --- Mr. and Mrs. Smith took a modest $75,000 in profits, which in comparison with RKO hits of the same year, Kitty Foyle ($869,000) and My Favorite Wife ($505,00), did not bode well. In fact, her one Warners comedy, Fools For Scandal (1938), handed that company its biggest single loss for the entire decade ($688,000). It’s possible a decline was already starting to set in, and yet To Be Or Not To Be was successful, despite the controversy over its content, and the fact it was released very soon after Lombard’s death. We figure she would have continued in comedies, much as Claudette Colbert did, though by the late forties, Colbert was finished with those (if not they with her), and we really can't see Carole doing film noir. Would she have eventually teamed with Gable again? That might have been interesting, but considering the sort of work he was getting at Metro by that time, you couldn’t be too optimistic over that prospect. A big wartime drama, along the lines of Since You Went Away or So Proudly We Hail, might have worked for her, as they certainly did for Colbert. The more we think about it, the more it seems that Claudette Colbert did indeed have the career that Carole Lombard might have enjoyed, had she’d lived. It’s sort of like James Dean and Paul Newman. The latter ended up getting pictures that had been set up for the former (Somebody Up There Likes Me, The Left-Handed Gun), and wound up giving us a rough idea of how Dean’s career might have played out, but for the accident. It’s a theory anyway. Maybe someone out there can suggest another actress whose career parallels the one Lombard missed.


Here’s a little collecting aside, from my misspent days gathering 16mm. It seems that one of the auction houses, about ten or so years ago, conducted a sale of Clark Gable’s personal film library, which included 16mm prints of many, but not all, of the features he’d made for Metro prior to 1941. Now, in those days, stars had a very difficult time persuading their employers to part with prints of their movies. In fact, it was very much frowned upon, the idea being that the films could fall into the wrong hands and somehow be commercially exploited without compensation to the producer. When that auction was announced, I was determined to lay hands on some of those Gable rarities, not only because they were from his personal archive, but because the prints would more than likely be gorgeous originals, straight from the camera negative. Well, I ended up with some of them, and they were stunning. So sharp they looked like woodcuts. A collector friend sent along an old Daily Variety clipping which explained the whole thing (Thanks, Dr. Thiede!). Seems Carole approached MGM in 1941 with the idea of making a present to husband Clark Gable of his movies. It didn’t specifically say so, but I'm betting it was a Christmas, 1941 gift. The whole thing added up when I checked the edge codes on the films (that’s a laboratory marking that shows what year they were printed) --- all were 1941. It was quite a thrill watching the very same copy of Dancing Lady and A Free Soul that Gable, and possibly Carole, had looked at so many years ago, but a little sobering to realize that she would only live a short time after the gift was bestowed.

Housekeeping Alert

We've been experiencing a little trouble with the Blogger service today, and we're hoping there won't be any problem getting tomorrow's posting up, as it's already done and waiting. By way of a test, we're publishing this message now, along with a preview of Monday's Glamour Starter, Carole Lombard. If it works, maybe tomorrow's will too.

Pre-Code On Parade

Once again, as with Trader Horn last month, we’ve dug into the files for a few more spicy pre-code exploitation ideas. We particularly enjoy Warner’s unapologetic appeal to the baser emotions, as illustrated by these frisky chorines on display in an original Golddiggers Of 1933 ad, and those girls who are beckoning us to join them inside for a screening of Footlight Parade certainly do suggest that prosperity is just beyond the ticket counter. Note the NRA tags in the boxoffice window, and the thirty-five cent admission sign. This must have been a flagship house, as I don’t think they’d have gotten many customers for that kind of money in the sleepy little town where I grew up (of course, we wouldn’t have had half-naked beauties lined up on our local sidewalks either!). Ten-cent tickets were more our speed back here in the sticks, and we would have probably gotten Footlight Parade around the time these gals reached middle age. How about this trade ad for Warner’s 1932-33 season? That’s laying it on the line, and we love ‘em for it. Look at these socko titles --- Lawyer Man, Hard To Handle, Frisco Jenny, The Match King, Doctor X --- winners every one! Two years later, a promo like this would have been unthinkable. So would those movies, as the dark shadow of Code enforcement fell over the industry in mid-1934. Warners couldn’t even get permission to re-issue most of these hot potatoes. It would be 1956, and release to television, before they’d be seen again. We were happy to read on DIGITAL BITS that WB intends to release a pre-code DVD box later this year. Bravo to that --- and now, Sony, let’s get busy with a stateside DVD of The Bitter Tea Of General Yen (check out the doll in this ad --- sure ain’t Stanwyck!). There’s a gorgeous Region 2 disc available from AMAZON UK, but you’ll need a multi-region player to look at it. Great movie, though.

Who's The Boss? Little Jackie Cooper, That's Who!


Do you find these behind-the-scenes shots from The Bowery as peculiar as we do? Yes, that’s former Our Gang-er Jackie Cooper, and it looks as though he’s flexing his big-star muscle upon this hapless group of toadies as they wait out a break on the Fox lot. The one reading the newspaper seems unaware of Jackie’s fierce gaze in her direction. Shouldn’t she be shining his shoes or something? And is that a nurse’s uniform she’s wearing? Maybe her job is to draw Jackie’s bath --- at a precise temperature, lest he be discomfited. What’s he pointing at? Has the woman in the smart white outfit made an error on the crossword? Even if she didn’t, do you think she’ll argue when Jackie corrects her? This gal really looks beaten down. Notice how her expression is unchanged from one shot to the next? Maybe she’s reminding herself that a job's a job after all, and there is a depression going on outside that soundstage. Do you suppose this is actually his mother? Okay, I just checked Jackie’s auto-bio (it’s great, by the way), and that is his mother. Man, that just made this whole thing a lot creepier. Just look at that poor woman’s face. Maybe she used to give the orders, but not any more! I’ll bet Jackie would still dispute her crossword judgment, even if he knew she was right. Yep, the tables have definitely turned. Oh, let’s not forget the lady in the back --- out of the line of fire, we presume. We’re guessing that’s Grandma with her knitting. She may be getting on in years, but she’ll hop to quick enough if Jackie suddenly decides he needs an ice-cream cone. Ah well, maybe we're just too cynical. For all we know, Jackie was a sweet, unspoiled child, not some pint-sized Caligula like Baby Jane Hudson in the opening scenes of Whatever Happened To... . But there is something about those sad grown-up expressions that make you want to rescue them from their stern little taskmaster!

Star Scrapbook --- Paulette Goddard


We’ve really grown to admire these scrapbook-keepers, without knowing, of course, who they were, or how and why they dedicated themselves to a particular actor or actress. We just admire the effort, energy, and creativity they poured into these collections, and the sheer longevity of some we’ve found is really a wonder to behold. One set of albums on Bette Davis covered a span of twenty years, while another on Clark Gable filled five volumes over a period from 1948 through his death in 1960 and even beyond to the birth of his son, plus the childhood of same! That’s real dedication, and our only regret is the fact we can’t pay proper tribute to these nameless chroniclers of old Hollywood and its luminaries. One remarkable thing about these clippings is the rarity of the images. Most of the original stills and negatives are long gone, so it’s always a thrill to come across a unique pose somewhere amidst the hundreds of little cut-outs that make up these scrapbooks. You can always expect the unexpected with this kind of material, and today’s sampling with Paulette Goddard is no exception. Once again, as with Clara Bow, I’ve utilized Photoshop to gather the best of this stuff for presentation here, and believe me, it’s hard to choose favorites among so many great shots.


Paulette Goddard is said to have been the most bewitching woman in movies. Off-screen, that is. Like Scarlett O’Hara (a part she very nearly played), Paulette gathered up all the hearts in movieland, but the abiding mystery among all her admirers was just how and why that magic always seemed to elude her on the screen. If this woman’s movie career had approached her success in private life, she’d have been the biggest name in the picture biz. As things turned out, she was a short-term star, later to become a long-term footnote, as one of Charlie Chaplin’s wives. You could even add a question mark to the footnote, as there’s never been positive verification that she and Chuck were even married, although they did live together throughout most of the 1930’s (that’s one of the major reasons Paulette lost Scarlett). Men used to fling jewels and furs at her --- she must have been incredibly good where it counts, if youse knows what I mean. Paulette had quite a line in feminine wiles. She put a rope around Chaplin, George Gershwin, H.G. Wells (!), Clark Gable (not enough of a free spender to suit her), Burgess Meredith (one of the husbands), and All Quiet On The Western Front author Erich Maria Remarque, her final marriage. All of them fell under that spell, many of them emptied their purse. Even Chaplin, the most notorious skinflint in town, made a generous settlement on her when their party ended. My impression of Paulette was that she could be a lot of fun as long as things were going her way (like most of us, I guess), but when the grass looked greener on a neighboring continent, she was off. One time during the marriage to Burgess, they decided to invite friends over to their upstate New York farm for dinner. Paulette thought she’d get a laugh by killing a piglet and laying it before the guests, the time-honored apple in its mouth, just like in the movies. When hubby got home, late for the meal, he was greeted by the sight of his beloved pet swine, carved up and half-eaten by the revelers. They say the marriage pretty much ended there.



This first Paulette montage gives us several glimpses of she and Chaplin, plus the only actual still I’ve seen from one of Paulette’s early Hal Roach comedy appearances (she’s often credited with a bit in Laurel and Hardy’s 1929 Berth Marks, but I’ve not seen her in that one, despite a careful examination). There’s also some typical globetrotting cheesecake stuff she did for various magazine layouts in 1951. By that time, her movie career was really on the skids, and her fame was mostly based on a reputation as an international jet setter and heartbreaker. Even into the seventies, Paulette was still mowin’ em’ down. As to her birthdate, there were at least five of those in general circulation, although latter-day research indicates she was actually born in 1910. Paulette really knew how to groove with the times --- she was even a member of Andy Warhol’s crowd during the disco era. What a life. This color shot with Balzac took off on Paulette’s legendary talent for harnessing various big-time intellectuals of the day. Later interviews with some of them revealed that it was the lady’s vivacity and oft-times impenetrable logic that attracted them. This last still is a Greenbriar favorite --- young and fresh Paulette with a banana in Modern Times. We fell in love with her after seeing that one in a theater back in 1972. Maybe some of her magic did make its way to the screen after all.

Dean Martin's Birthday Party


Amongst the annals of crowning understatement, "Dean Martin was not a people person" may be near the top. Jerry’s just written an entire book essentially lamenting the fact he never got a hug from Dean. The gallery of those who harbored unrequited love for Dean is an extensive one. Jerry did not dwell there alone. Along with the legions of women, there was Frank. His frustration with Dean’s aloof nature could unhinge poor Frank even at the advanced age of 73 --- when the infamous "spaghetti incident" brought the Rat Pack’s would-be reunion tour to an ignominious end. Seems Frank wanted Dean to join him after the evening show for a little pub-crawling, but Dean opted for his customary nightcap --- a teevee western. Frank’s pique was such that he snatched up Dean’s plate of pasta and dumped it on his head. Yes, that’s what I said --- emptied a plate of greasy, gooey Italian cuisine right on top of this seventy-one year-old man’s head. If that isn’t enough to make your skin crawl --- Yecch! Anyway, it was splitsville for Dean the very next day, and ever-ready Liza Minnelli picked up the slack to bring the tour to its triumphant finish line.


Ever notice how most people will say they prefer Dean over Jerry? I’ve heard it time and again. I’ve also heard people say they prefer Dean over Frank. What was the man’s secret? Just this, I suspect --- the guy didn’t do needy. Never. Not with anybody. And most of us think that’s cool. Because we don’t want to be needy either. A pox on Jerry and his unleashed emotion on those telethons! Damn that childish Frank and his spaghetti assault on this cool, unflappable man. Yes, I suspect we’d all like to be a little more like Dean. Not all the way, mind you, because by every account, his loner habits did not necessarily make for a happy life, particularly toward the end, but who wouldn’t want that calm exterior? They say that even with spaghetti matting in his hair, Dean just got up calmly, walked into the bathroom, and waited for a penitent Frank to leave his hotel suite. The only thing that seems to have really impacted on Dean was his son’s tragic death during a jet-training flight in 1987. That story is just too sad to recount here, but there is a good bio of Dean that tells of this and much more HERE.


This first shot of a pajama-clad Dean was taken between set-ups for MGM’s Ada, a pretty much forgotten 1961 meller he did with Susan Hayward (we’d still like to see a nice DVD of it, though). Note the open lid on his phonograph --- Capitol was Dean’s label at the time, and judging from that album jacket near his left foot, it looks as though he’s spinning his own hit-laden This Time I’m Swingin’ platter. As for these other two shots from Dean’s forty-third birthday celebration, just what is that present he’s just opened? --- the one Shirley MacClaine’s reacting to? I’ve looked at it for the last several minutes and I can’t figure it out. Probably a gag gift as they all seem most amused. That uniform Elvis wears is not Government Issue, by the way. He’s just dressed out for G.I. Blues, his first post-service musical for producer Hal Wallis, who’s standing next to Dean on the left. I guess it was inevitable that Dean’s birthday cake would have a golf course motif, just as it’s reasonable to assume that Elvis is not there at Dean’s invitation. All three of the players were working for Wallis at the time (1960). Dean and Shirley were in the midst of a particularly tepid comedy, All In A Night’s Work, and according to that bio, Elvis gave out with a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" for the honored celebrant. By all accounts, Dean couldn’t abide Presley’s music, and only later grew more tolerant of the upstart singer. Rock artists were like poison oak to Rat Packers, but every now and then, they had to make nice for the sake of mutual employers (even Frank was obliged to throw a "Welcome Home" TV special for Elvis when he returned from his Army hitch). Once again, we must assume that the cake was barely, if at all, eaten over the course of that afternoon, and no doubt some of the crew guys working late were the ones left to finish it off.

Audrey Hepburn Unretouched


Some actresses need all the re-touching they can get. One look at a random issue of today’s Star or Enquirer will shock the senses of those hitherto impressed by the glamour of Hollywood luminaries. Does anyone beyond the age of (extreme) adolescence look upon movie stars as role models anymore? Sometimes the girlfriend brings these tabs home from the supermarket. I’m not ashamed to say I enjoy looking at them, if for no other reason than to say, "There, but for the grace of God …" etc. Talk about a morning after! You can watch an actress' latest pic tonight, and she might look great, but when you encounter her tomorrow in the market checkout, chances are she’ll look like Rondo Hatton! Well, that’s just one more reason to be thankful we’re not dealing with today’s movie landscape here at the Greenbriar. Instead, we’ve got an actress who scarcely needed any corrective touches, even well into her career, which is when these portraits appear to have been made. Now I’m guessing, mind, because these proofs are uncaptioned and undated, but I’d say they were done around the time of Charade, and that would be 1963, when Audrey Hepburn was 34. If any of you Audrey-philes have a better fix on the date, I hope you’ll tip us off, as I for one would love to know exactly when these were taken. If you click and enlarge, you’ll see tiny marks on the face and neck, presumably to guide the retouching process later on. Of course, these proofs were happily spirited away before that procedure could take place, allowing us a glimpse of Audrey "unplugged", so to speak. Now, I think she looks great here, no doubt about that, but close inspection does reveal the encroachments of age, subtle it’s true, but apparent enough to require delicate handling for the remainder of her career. Assuming this is 1963, it’s a little startling to consider that Audrey’s best years were already behind her --- after Charade, there was My Fair Lady, Two For The Road, and Wait Until Dark. Any other big ones? Can’t think of them if there are, and I’ll not besmirch the lady’s memory by dwelling upon Bloodline or They All Laughed.


Just in case anyone’s wondering who the favorite actress is among college girls today, I’d like to submit Audrey Hepburn’s name as the hands-down winner. I’ve had many occasions to run old movies for University audiences in the last five or six years and I can tell you, she is the Number One. No one else comes close. Do they like her gamine quality? For that matter, what is a gamine quality? I’ve never quite understood that. Maybe girls do. Could it be the weight, or lack of it? There’s nobody skinnier (or should I say more waifish) than Audrey. I don’t think she ever ate a Butterfinger in her life, and girls dig that. They can admire Audrey’s boyish figure and be reasonably assured that she’d never have retreated into the lady’s room after a meal with Fred Astaire or Cary Grant in order to purge the dinner she’d just finished. They just didn’t do things like that back then. Audrey came by her weightlessness honestly. Perhaps it’s the clothes. The woman was nothing if not stylish, and the outfits she wore in all those glamour pics don’t look half-bad today. In fact, there have been recent books celebrating "The Audrey Style" (one of them HERE). Whatever this actress had, the gals today want. The only other name that evokes anything like that much enthusiasm is Marilyn Monroe. At least, that’s been my experience on the college campus.


Lastly, we have a Paramount trade ad for an Alfred Hitchcock/Audrey Hepburn collaboration that very nearly happened in 1959. No Bail For The Judge was all set to go, with a completed script, $200,000 of the studio’s money invested, and heady announcements of another big Hitchcock romantic thriller in the works. Then it all went belly-up. Reasons vary according to who you read, but I’d recommend a recent telling by Alfie’s longtime producer, Herbert Coleman, whose fantastic memoirs have recently been published by Scarecrow Press (order it HERE). Seems Audrey got the vapors after she read that notorious scene in the script where she’s either raped, nearly raped, or submits (!) to a pimp (!!) during a violent encounter (she hated violence in movies) among the bushes in Hyde Park. And to think, she’d just completed The Nun’s Story! Well, needless to say, she gave it the big nix, and the Master Of Suspense wasn’t about to let some actress dictate to him, so the whole project went south, never to rise again. There are those who maintain that it fell apart for a more prosaic reason, that being that Audrey got pregnant and just couldn’t do it. We’re guessing she got one look at that script and then summoned Mel to get busy fulfilling his connubial obligations so she could "conceive" a good reason to get out of this thing! Ah well, maybe thing worked out for the best. After all, Hitchcock wound up doing Psycho instead. Think Audrey would have enjoyed doing the shower scene in that?

Boris Karloff At Home --- Part 2


Here’s something new I learned about Boris Karloff in Scott Allen Nollen’s excellent biography (get it HERE) --- In February, 1958, the "gentle monster" spent two weeks on the French location of Kings Go Forth, serving as an unofficial acting coach for Frank Sinatra! Nancy told Nollen that Boris was "a profound influence on my father". Wow. Just picture those two together, hashing out scenes. "You must learn to act with your voice as well as your face", said Frank’s tutor. Wonder if Karloff shared any of his acting wisdom with Tony Curtis or Natalie Wood (boy, could she have used it). Do you suppose Evie let him hang out with Frank much during off-hours? I’ll bet Sinatra was on his best behavior with Karloff around. Probably like a little kid with his schoolmaster. None of those ring-a-ding-ding anecdotes about bagging Joi Lansing back in Vegas. This is Boris Karloff, man. You don’t waste his time.


Well, here’s the rest of those neat pictures of Boris at home. I love the one with the flowers. He really liked his quiet time in the garden. Too bad his health wouldn’t permit it late in life, but at this point (around 1937), Karloff was a seasoned athlete (remember the cricket shot) and in top physical condition. Scholarly too, as those winnings from Information, Please and other radio quiz programs would soon demonstrate. He used to relax between set-ups by reciting poetry --- from memory, of course, and he’d retained volumes of it. You think Brad Pitt or Heath Ledger could swing that? Me neither. Look at that stack of books he’s carrying under his arm. The caption says he and his wife are stopping off at Southampton en route to Britain. I’ll bet he polished off every tome before they got there. I particularly like shots of stars in their libraries, and how about that coat Boris is wearing --- is that one of those cricket-player jackets? Seems I’ve seen these pictured somewhere before…anybody know? This last one at home shows Karloff filling a well-earned stein behind his own Hollywood reproduction of a "typical English Inn bar". Caption says he went to a lot of effort in recapturing the spirit of home in his Coldwater Canyon digs.


The devastatingly cool portrait with the overcoat and gloves was taken during Karloff’s sojourn at Gaumont-British. There was just no way that I could leave it out of this posting. There’s been so much written on Karloff --- much of it very good --- but one fact about this great actor never ceases to amaze me. Now, bear in mind, he lived 81 years, and was an above-the-title star all the way to the end. This man, who did most of his acting from a wheelchair, or at least seated, for fully half of the last decade of his life, was still playing leads in horror films! Still the recognized chiller king right down to the finish. Did anyone else ever do that, before or since? If they did, I don’t know about it. Well, maybe the answer lay in what Boris said to Frank --- act with your voice --- and with the voice he had, Karloff didn’t need to be ambulatory.

Monday's Glamour Starter --- Hedy Lamarr


Hedy Lamarr may be the only Golden Age star who did a nude scene before she hit it big in Hollywood. No, I haven’t forgotten the legendary Joan Crawford stag film supposedly done in the twenties (and I had a collecting mentor years ago who swore to me he saw the Crawford reel around 1929 in New Jersey). Hedy’s was more like an art film, a Czech art film of all things, and a good one (HERE’S the DVD). Ecstasy was issued, re-issued, and played to death in this country for decades. It was really hot stuff in its day. You can see why if you look at it now. Hedy’s memoirs were hot too. I read the paperback when I was fourteen, and it rang the bell for me. This was strong confessional meat, so much so that Hedy sued the publisher, claiming the book was an unauthorized fraud. She was probably embarrassed to see the thing in print. TV chat shows pulled in their welcome mats, and things went from bad to worse when she got pinched for shoplifting soon after. Hedy said that was a misunderstanding as well, but producer Bert I. Gordon nixed her intended role in Picture Mommy Dead, a monster-piece he’d set up for 1966 release. She gave Warner Bros. and Mel Brooks some headaches when she went to court protesting their cheeky use of her name in Blazing Saddles (remember Harvey Korman as "Hedley" Lamarr?). From there, it was forced retirement, then decades later, some late-in-life press when she was recognized for some sort of technology that eventually led to the cell phone. I guess she must have been awfully bright, because the story goes that she picked up complex data from sinister, in-bed-with-the-Nazis first husband Fritz Mandl shortly before ditching him and fleeing to the Americas. I knew an autograph dealer in the nineties, who used to send Hedy reams of stills she'd sign, send back to him, then wait for her end of the split. This was after a relocation to Florida, and that’s where she died in 2000 at the age of 86.


This nice early portrait is from Ecstasy, and the lurid ad for same is pretty typical of the way that picture was sold we provincial, forbidden-fruit seekers here in the US. Next is Hedy doing the American rite of passage as she dips a toe into fetid Hollywood waters for producer Walter Wanger. The movie they were selling is Algiers. Too bad it’s public domain, cause I don’t know of a decent DVD that’s out there, and I’d really like to have one. Anybody know of a good transfer? Finally, we have "Tondeleyo", the island temptress who inspires any number of south sea-zures in White Cargo, but don’t get your hopes up. It’s a code movie, and whatever heat it generated was by courtesy of still photographers such as the one who provided this indelible image.

If We Could But Journey Back ...


Just for the sake of argument, let’s pretend for the moment that we were born in 1930. That would make us about 11 when this incredible show came to town. Now, I’m not a big fan of the Stooges --- never was --- but I must say this is one incredible bill of fare. The Maltese Falcon is first-run, of course. That means we’d get to see one of those luminous 35mm nitrate prints, no doubt on a carbon-arc projection system with all the light of the sun behind it (not like today when pictures in theatres look so murky and dim) --- and just imagine the excitement of seeing the Falcon when it was brand new! And not to rub it in, but look at these prices! Ten cents if you get there before 1:00. A princely forty cents between 1 and 5:00, and an astronomical sixty cents for the evening shows! I think I would just about get my money’s worth at that. If one were willing to traverse four miles over a sea of broken glass to see a program like this, then, yeah, I guess those admissions are okay. It’s a cinch the Stooges would have been more fun that day than they were for me on those Summer afternoons when I was dragged to the Liberty to see things like Snow White Meets The Three Stooges (shown here), or Around The World In A Daze. It’s pretty bad when you go the show, and the only thing you’re really looking forward to is the trailers. Wonder what those other acts amounted to --- the ones with the Stooges, I mean --- is anyone familiar with Gil Maison, Phillis Colt (Phyllis Coates would be nice), or The Robbins Bros. and Margie? Do you suppose Larry Fine played his violin during their live gigs? Otherwise, I guess it was just a lot of runnin’ around and eye-pokin’. That would have been enough. Just watching them up there reading the phone book would have been enough.

More On Gary Cooper


The war years were the peak ones for Gary Cooper. Too old to serve (although Gable did, but there were special reasons for that), but still young enough to make a convincing screen warrior. Like everyone else who wanted to stay in the business, he went on the camp tours, but found it rough going at the start, as he was anything but the spontaneous type on stage. Again he would trade on the awkward cowboy shtick, delivering songs as though he were Alfalfa in the Our Gangs (that got lotsa laughs), shucking his way through some mildly raunchy jokes (there’s no Production Code on army bases), and generally spoofing it up in genial fashion. The capper, however, was always played straight, and that was his recitation of the Lou Gehrig speech from Pride Of The Yankees. Rest assured, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when Coop gave out this. It was as good as Bing popping in to do White Christmas. He liked to chow with the troops as well --- they craved hearing inside Hollywood stuff from a guy who was jes one of the boys (notwithstanding the fact he was routinely getting laid by the most gorgeous women in the picture business). Professional wise, Coop was batting them out of the park right up through the surrender, and it looked like those good times were never going to end.


Cooper seemed ageless through most of his forties, but when it finally caught up with him, that hourglass was a heartless, unstoppable thing. 1948 was the year he signed with Warners, and they launched him in a big prestige item, The Fountainhead. That’s the role Gable had wanted over at Metro --- just another set-back in a race those two had run since they were youngsters starting out --- one would buy a new car, then the other would rush out and get a bigger car, that sort of thing. Their rivalry lasted right to the end. When Gable’s palsy was getting the better of him in the fifties, Coop would actually go see his movies just to watch the poor guy’s hands shaking. Well, Coop’s own situation wasn’t much better. He had stomach ulcers that would fell an elephant, but he was determined to finish High Noon --- all the pain in that weathered face was real this time, but it got the Academy Award, and official living legend status among sympathetic peers. Maybe they felt sorry seeing him mired in a dead-end relationship with much younger WB contract player Patricia Neal, and the public spectacle attendant upon that. There wouldn't likely be more golden statuettes for the pictures he did in the wake of High Noon --- remember Springfield Rifle, Blowing Wild, Return To Paradise? None of these earned plaudits, so why is it I like them best of all? Could it be that Cooper shares our knowledge of their unworthiness? It sure looks that way. Never was he so distracted, so inclined to fall back on mannerisms and put his performance on coast. I just watched the DVD of Distant Drums this week, and sometimes old Coop plays it like he’s ten miles away. And what of those tepid leading ladies riding on his back? --- well, that’s one way of putting it. Rumor has it, he liked to keep his comfort stations close at hand, even in a co-starring capacity if necessary. By this time, Cooper was getting a little testy when other players sought to recognize his elder statesmanship --- on Friendly Persuasion, boyish Tony Perkins got a quick blow-off when he asked "legend" Coop about his own youthful screen exploits, "Cut all this youth shit out" was the actor’s curt reply. Coop never thought much of himself as an actor. He told Jeff Corey in 1950 that I only have two or three tricks at best, and that’s not enough, is it? Nearing death in 1961, he confided to his daughter regret he’d never work again, feeling he was only now beginning to understand something about acting.


This first still was identified as the Coopers and the Stewarts on a tandem date. I think the hand-written back caption is in error as to the marital status of the Stewart couple at the time this pic was taken. It isn’t dated, but if you look closely, you can see there’s a banner just behind them for Warner’s June Bride, the Bette Davis/Robert Montgomery comedy which was released October 29, 1948, and was set to be the "Next Attraction" at this theater. Since James and Gloria Stewart weren’t married until August 9, 1949, that could only mean one of two things --- either the Coopers were chaperoning the dating couple on this particular evening, or the four of them were slumming it, after the Stewart’s marriage, at one of the sub-run grindhouses where June Bride was getting ready to finish off its last run. The latter seems unlikely, as stars generally weren’t photographed at the movies unless attending a premiere, or at the very least a first-run venue. Therefore, we’re going with the chaperone theory. Anybody got any third possibility to propose?


This next one is dated January 19, 1951. The caption reads, "Gary Cooper, in a Voice Of America broadcast to Russia, explains the original version of his film, Mr.Deeds Goes To Town, to show up the distortions in an anti-American version of the picture now showing in Moscow." As you can see, somebody forgot to retouch this one. He was nearing fifty when they snapped him here, a little younger than your humble writer. Boy, does that give me a chill. Cut all that youth shit out, indeed. Coop’s politics were in sync with the Voice Of America, having been a friendly witness for the HUAC a few years previous. His inarticulate cowboy act didn’t play so well in those environs. When a House member inquired as to his profession, Cooper’s one-word response drew gales of laughter from the crowded gallery --- the word was "actor". Amidst the guffaws, a self-deprecating Coop just looked down and registered a sheepish grin. Seeing that newsreel, I wonder how he really felt at that moment.



This next one is Coop getting a little friendly persuasion from high-octane, post-war sensation Burt Lancaster, and I must say, he seems a little dubious. Does he anticipate Burt’s forthcoming bid to change the ending of Vera Cruz at the last minute, allowing his laughing outlaw to survive the final shoot-out with Cooper’s stalwart hero character? Coop nearly walked to allay that possibility, but as to billing, there was never any question. Lancaster ceded first position to Coop, as he later would with Clark Gable in Run Silent, Run Deep.


This final shot speaks for itself, I think. Cooper looks fully aware of the fact he’s too old to play opposite Audrey Hepburn, but here they are on a European location, and it’s too late to back out now. For a so-called illiterate cowboy, Cooper had a remarkably refined taste for all things Continental. His clothing was tailor-made in England, he was a well-known jet-setter over there --- in fact, very much like the character he portrayed in Love In The Afternoon, the film in which, critics maintained, and still do, he was woefully miscast! This was around the time he had a facelift, and that got some rude press, as did his ongoing assignations with various 50’s bombshells. In one instance, a private detective for Confidential magazine staked out Coop and Anita Ekberg (go do a Google image search and imagine the possibilities) at their motel rendezvous for days on end --- bear in mind, the star was around 55 by this time, and Ekberg was twenty-whatever (and to think, Jerry had to drive cross-country with Dean just to get a glimpse of her in Hollywood Or Bust!). When his wife confronted him about the episode, Coop merely hung his head and observed that "it seemed like a good idea at the time". Sometimes it pays to be an inarticulate cowboy.

Greenbriar Exhibitor Memo For Feb. 3, 1959


Pardon us if we seem a bit distracted, but it’s February 3, 1959, and there's only a few weeks left before Some Like It Hot, the big new Billy Wilder comedy with Marilyn Monroe, goes into release! United Artists is dropping a cool million on the campaign (says so in Boxoffice), and we sure can’t disappoint the regional supervisor with indifferent showmanship at our theater! But gee, where to start? Okay, first we gotta get these tabloid calendars into the super-markets. Maybe some of those skinflint local merchants'll go along with a tie-in --- save a little printing cost --- after all, we are giving the calendars away for free. And how about the record stores? Think they’ll agree to stock all three albums "inspired" by the music in Some Like It Hot? UA’s offering a special one-sheet to promote the records, and it’s free too! Maybe the store will hang one up over the LP’s. Now what about these fancy standees --- Yikes! The color one costs twelve bucks, but it is five feet high after all, and would be a real grabber in the lobby. We can just toss it in the dumpster after the engagement. Not like anyone would ever have further use for this stuff. The full-color set of four door panels seems mighty steep at five bucks. Don’t those UA guys realize how worthless this junk is after you’re through with the movie? Not like we could ever sell it, or re-use it, or anything. Man, those garbage collectors are sure gonna be bitchin’ at us in a couple of weeks. Say, where am I going to come up with a "progressive jazz authority" to go on the radio station? Those rock n’ roll platter spinners don’t like eggheads on their program. Real drag. Still, the regional guys told me to come up with something, so I guess I’ll have to call that junior college in town, see if there's some professor that’ll do it for nothing. Boy, the pressure was really on at that publicity con-fab last week. The bosses are putting the heat on us to do big things with Some Like It Hot. That guy in the picture, the one in shirtsleeves with the pipe, says he’s seen the picture. Claims it’s the best Marilyn yet. Yeah, that’s what Warners told us about The Prince and The Showgirl, and I can still hearing the crickets in our empty auditorium during that one. Then he goes on and on about how "a picture of this obvious business potential merits the most intensive selling campaign we can bring to it." Oh yeah, we’re all real impressed. And you’re hoping the big boys in New York are too, right boss? Boy, are these meetings suffocating. Every one of these guys thinks he knows everything about the business, and all of them just trying to kiss up to a supervisor. Man, unless we can get a hit, I don’t know how much longer I’ll last in exhibition. Maybe this Some Like It Hot will ring the bell. Aw hell, it’s just another movie. Six months from now, nobody’ll even remember it.

Boris Karloff At Home --- Part 1


After the pleasant hours we spent with Bela Lugosi a few weeks ago, it’s only fitting we should drop by and check out Boris Karloff’s home-life, circa mid-thirties. Funny how those two names seem to come up in tandem nowadays. There’s no compelling reason why they should. After all, they had nothing in common outside of a handful of co-starring features. We think it’s the rivalry --- not only that which supposedly went on between the actors, but the one that persists to this day among their fans. In all the literature I’ve read on these subjects (and there has been an incredible amount of it), there's never been any indication of genuine competition, let alone malice, on the part of either man toward the other. Boris was obviously the more successful of the two during their lifetimes, and once or twice (after Lugosi’s death) did express a sympathetic regret that Bela hadn’t availed himself of a better opportunity to master the English language. Those remarks tend to rankle some of Bela’s fans. First of all, they think it's a little condescending. Here’s Karloff on his high horse, looking down on a guy who wasn’t as lucky as he, and who says Bela never mastered our language? I tend to agree with that last part. Lugosi may not have been Olivier with the diction, but one look, even at an early talkie like The Thirteenth Chair, and you know the man clearly understood how to get the most out of his dialogue. The one thing he had to have was fidelity to the script, and time to prepare himself. Comics like Milton Berle, Skelton, and their damnable ad-libbing were anathema to Lugosi. Had I been in the studio audience on those Halloween nights during the 50’s when they were ridiculing Bela live on stage, I’d have been ready with the razzberrys, if not the tomatoes. Karloff also preferred going with a printed page, as opposed to the improv stuff. Vincent Price was able to groove with Peter Lorre’s monkey-shines on The Raven in 1963, but Boris liked it not one bit. In a way, Karloff’s been the victim of his own success. We tend to side with the underdog, here Lugosi, in the same way Buster Keaton fans tend to take his side against Chaplin and Harold Lloyd. Karloff got all the money and glory then --- now it’s Bela’s turn. Was it payback this past year when Universal, releasing a DVD of their co-starring features, entitled it The Bela Lugosi Collection? Revenge is a dish best served cold, and who would have thought Bela would finally get his fifty years after he died? It’s like a vindication for everybody who’s spent a lifetime rolling snake-eyes. The one-time co-starring team back again, this time in new roles --- Boris Karloff (make that "Karloff") the smug success story, and Bela Lugosi the hard-luck case that comes up from behind to finish the race and win.


I was really thrilled to stumble across these images of Boris Karloff enjoying quiet domesticity. It’s great to see him in the gravy after the tough climb he had. Truck driving, coal shoveling, ditch digging. Yikes! My back’s beginning to ache just thinking about it. And boy, did this guy get a hands-on education in stagecraft, or what? Touring in Canadian logging camps --- when that crowd was let down, they’d likely as not use their saws to cleave the actors in half. Check out Karloff’s sinewy arms in this ultra-moody Universal portrait. Yep --- the hard product of a hard school. No wonder he stood up to the studios as a founding member of the Screen Actor’s Guild. Plenty tough, I’d wager. And how about this neat Cricket Club shot? Dude puts in an eighteen-hour day hauling Colin Clive around on his shoulders, then summons up the energy to go out and swing that bat. And by this time, he’s in his mid-forties! They’re not kidding when they say men were men in those days. I really dig this pose under the shade tree at his Coldwater Canyon pad. Wonder what went wrong with that wife. Just can’t imagine Boris raising his voice at anyone, anytime. Must have been very civilized partings, and we know there were several before Evelyn. Sorry, no snaps of Boris with Violet The Pig, but how about these handsome dogs? More to come with our Karloff visit in Part 2. Stay tuned!

On The Road With Clark Gable


To commemorate Clark Gable’s 105th birthday, we’ve decided to join him on his thousand-mile road trip to film the big new Metro outdoor epic, Across The Wide Missouri, and we’ll be posting these updates on our progress as we head for the Colorado location with Clark. Well, first of all, here’s the car. Metro publicists described it as a "speedy gas buggy", but we’re going to defer to one of you experts among our readership to tell us just what make of a vehicle this is. Clark likes it fine, but we think maybe that stuff on the roof could stand to be secured a little better, as he’s prone to lean on that gas pedal from time to time --- ask any speed-cop back home in Encino. Clark’s happy to get away from the ball-and-chain for a while, even though she’ll be waiting for him when he gets to the location. Boy, was that marriage a big mistake --- all he remembers is those cocktails and that loud Hawaiian shirt she bought him just before they --- say, just where and when did that wedding happen? Anyway, we gotta stop for gas. Maybe Gary Cooper’s old trick will work at this station. He’s used it a thousand times. You fill up the tank, then you pay for it with a personal check. The gas jockey gets one squint at that bold signature and you can tell from his bug-eyes this check ain’t never going in with the deposit bag. Thanks for the free top-off, champ! We’ll do it again sometime.


Just a little background here. Clark Gable’s career at Metro was winding down at the time (1951) he made Across The Wide Missouri, surprisingly his first in Technicolor other than Gone With The Wind. His pictures were still profitable, but they were paying him upwards of $7500 a week, and it wasn’t easy finding suitable material for an aging romantic idol, especially with so many younger ones busting out of the starting gate after the war. Gable wasn’t happy either. He knew he was getting the short end at MGM. They’d passed on The Fountainhead for him a few years before, even though he’d expressed a desire to play it, and a proposed teaming with director Preston Sturges was scotched around the same time. Meanwhile, the pictures he was doing weren’t stirring up much excitement. New stars like Stewart Granger were on location in Africa doing Technicolor specials like King Solomon’s Mines, while Gable was back on the lot doing black-and-whites like Any Number Can Play and Key To The City. Not that his post-war pics are bad. I happen to like them a lot, but I think it’s safe to say the bloom was off the rose. On top of all that, Gable’s home life wasn’t so hot. He’d married, in haste (to repent at leisure), a woman who’d already scooped up several marital fortunes, including one from Doug Fairbanks, Sr. Her name was Lady Sylvia Hawkes Ashley Fairbanks etc. etc. (and forgive me if I’ve omitted a few). She was no Carole Lombard, that’s for sure, even though they say he married her because she looked like Carole. Well, you’ll get a chance to compare in Part 2. That’s when we arrive at the location for a good look at the new Mrs. Gable. Those stills are amazing. Talk about a guy not being able to hide his real emotions! One look at these and you’ll know why that marriage was kaput. Stay tuned.