The Secret Life Of Marilyn Monroe Part 6

Even though Marilyn knew she'd done a good job on The Asphalt Jungle The Asphalt Jungle, it wasn't to be released for some time. Therefore, 1950 would be a year of great antic.i.p.ation for her-and a certain amount of frustration as well.

In January, Marilyn filmed another awful movie that Johnny Hyde had secured for her, another bit part, this one in a roller-derby film, The Fireball The Fireball, starring Mickey Rooney. Marilyn's role was purely decorative, with only a few scenes and lines of dialogue. Another film that received little play at this time was a fluff movie Marilyn made that same season called Right Cross. Right Cross. This one was a boxing film from MGM starring the studio's popular, peach-cheeked girl next door June Allyson and her husband d.i.c.k Powell. Marilyn was uncredited and mainly unnoticed in the tiny role of Dusky Ledoux, a bar girl who has a brief encounter with Powell's character. Then, in the spring of 1950, Marilyn was jettisoned into yet another mediocre movie called This one was a boxing film from MGM starring the studio's popular, peach-cheeked girl next door June Allyson and her husband d.i.c.k Powell. Marilyn was uncredited and mainly unnoticed in the tiny role of Dusky Ledoux, a bar girl who has a brief encounter with Powell's character. Then, in the spring of 1950, Marilyn was jettisoned into yet another mediocre movie called Home Town Story. Home Town Story. The less said about this one the better-though it did resurface abroad as a curiosity after her death. In it, Marilyn has a two-minute scene as a receptionist in a newspaper office. The less said about this one the better-though it did resurface abroad as a curiosity after her death. In it, Marilyn has a two-minute scene as a receptionist in a newspaper office.

Johnny Hyde's rationale for having Marilyn make brief appearances in such terrible movies was that he hoped if she were seen enough onscreen, MGM might actually offer her a contract. That didn't happen, though. In the meantime, Marilyn would end up spending most of her free time posing for ads, pinups, and photo essays-anything to make a living while she waited to break into what she was finding to be a very tough business.

Meanwhile, Johnny continued to squire Marilyn around town. Ironically, the power had shifted in their relationship. She had gone into it feeling that she needed him. Now, a year later, he was acting as if he needed her, and he seemed to want to do whatever he could think of to keep her happy lest she walk out on him. True, The Asphalt Jungle The Asphalt Jungle was important in retrospect because it showed what Marilyn was capable of, but it was such a brief role it went unnoticed by critics. (Later in the year, Johnny would book her in a TV commercial-her first and only-for a motor oil!) was important in retrospect because it showed what Marilyn was capable of, but it was such a brief role it went unnoticed by critics. (Later in the year, Johnny would book her in a TV commercial-her first and only-for a motor oil!) In April of 1950, Johnny Hyde took Marilyn to meet writer and director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who was getting ready to mount a new film for Darryl Zanuck at Fox. It was All About Eve All About Eve, and Mankiewicz cast Marilyn in a small but pivotal part based on the job she had done in The Asphalt Jungle The Asphalt Jungle. "I thought she was right for the role, which was of an aspiring theater actress," he recalled many years later, "and Marilyn was nothing if not aspiring at the time. It was suggested that the character would do whatever she had to do to get ahead, and I sensed that in Marilyn there was a certain amount of cunning as well as the innocence. I found her a fascinating mix. On one hand, she was vulnerable. But, on the other, calculating. She knew what she was doing, that one. There was never a false move with her."

The story of Eve Eve, adapted from a Cosmopolitan Cosmopolitan short story, is well known-a ruthless, conniving ingenue, Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter), insinuates herself into the life and career of a legendary, aging Broadway star, Margo Channing (Bette Davis), wrecking the lives of all those she touches, as she claws her way to the very pinnacle of theatrical stardom. In two of three set pieces upon which the movie is based, Marilyn shone brilliantly and displayed the early promise she would later fulfill as a dominant screen personality for the next decade and a half. In a scene on the staircase at a birthday party in Margo's apartment, she is seated in the center with most of the film's stars seated or standing around her-Baxter, Gary Merrill, Celeste Holm, George Sanders, Gregory Ratoff-and it is impossible to take your eyes off her, even when other characters are delivering their lines. As has been said a thousand times, the camera loves her, and so do we. In her other scene, in the lobby of a theater, she has just fallen victim to her nerves over an audition and has gotten sick in the ladies' room. Her queasiness is unmistakable and we feel like pressing a cold towel to her forehead, her emotions spent, raw. short story, is well known-a ruthless, conniving ingenue, Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter), insinuates herself into the life and career of a legendary, aging Broadway star, Margo Channing (Bette Davis), wrecking the lives of all those she touches, as she claws her way to the very pinnacle of theatrical stardom. In two of three set pieces upon which the movie is based, Marilyn shone brilliantly and displayed the early promise she would later fulfill as a dominant screen personality for the next decade and a half. In a scene on the staircase at a birthday party in Margo's apartment, she is seated in the center with most of the film's stars seated or standing around her-Baxter, Gary Merrill, Celeste Holm, George Sanders, Gregory Ratoff-and it is impossible to take your eyes off her, even when other characters are delivering their lines. As has been said a thousand times, the camera loves her, and so do we. In her other scene, in the lobby of a theater, she has just fallen victim to her nerves over an audition and has gotten sick in the ladies' room. Her queasiness is unmistakable and we feel like pressing a cold towel to her forehead, her emotions spent, raw.

Today, All About Eve All About Eve is recognized as one of the cla.s.sic films of all time and certainly the best picture about the Broadway theater ever made. Entire books have been written about the movie, the best of these being is recognized as one of the cla.s.sic films of all time and certainly the best picture about the Broadway theater ever made. Entire books have been written about the movie, the best of these being More About All About Eve More About All About Eve, by Sam Staggs. Anecdotes abound about this production, one of the best being that production was constantly held up due to Marilyn's lateness. She simply could never be on time.

At any rate, when released, All About Eve All About Eve would generate fourteen Oscar nominations. It would also hold the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' record for most nominations for a single picture until 1997, when James Cameron's disaster epic would generate fourteen Oscar nominations. It would also hold the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' record for most nominations for a single picture until 1997, when James Cameron's disaster epic t.i.tanic t.i.tanic received the same number of nods-with received the same number of nods-with t.i.tanic t.i.tanic winning a total of eleven Oscars, while winning a total of eleven Oscars, while Eve Eve earned six, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. Also, interestingly, the first and only appearance Marilyn would make at the Oscars-on March 29, 1951-was to present the award to Thomas Moulton for earned six, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. Also, interestingly, the first and only appearance Marilyn would make at the Oscars-on March 29, 1951-was to present the award to Thomas Moulton for All About Eve All About Eve for Best Sound Recording. for Best Sound Recording.

Considering her small part in All About Eve All About Eve, one would think Marilyn would have done anything in her power to not be tardy, but that just wasn't her way. One day, actor Gregory Ratoff declared of her, "That girl will be a big star!" Celeste Holm rolled her eyes and said, "Why, because she keeps everyone waiting?" Indeed, much has been made over the years about Marilyn's penchant for being late. She was tardy for just about every appointment she made, whether it was work-related or just a coffee date with a friend. It didn't matter the occasion, everyone in her life knew she would be late for it. It was a maddening habit, but because she was who she was, most people just put up with it. To be fair, she usually made it worth their while. One thing was certain: She did light up the room with her presence. "It's not so much that I'm always late," she once quipped, "it's just that everybody else is in such a hurry!"

Dumb as a Blonde Fox.

In the autumn of 1950, Marilyn-now twenty-four-went back to school. She enrolled in a ten-week program at the University of California at Los Angeles to study world literature. Fellow cla.s.smates don't have remarkable memories of her because she did what she could to fit in as a student and not call much attention to herself. "I want to expand my horizons," she explained to Grace G.o.ddard, who wholeheartedly approved. In the last few years, as she lived her life on her own terms and met a wide range of fascinating people, she had become much more thoughtful and introspective. Anyone who thought she was a brainless blonde had been fooled by her carefully constructed image. It's true that she was still a vulnerable and scared child at heart. Norma Jeane was alive and well in everything Marilyn did-or was afraid to do-in her life and career. However, she was, at the very least, manageable. Marilyn wasn't as helpless as Norma Jeane had been, that much was clear by the time she was twenty-four. But, she also knew that her weak routine could work to her advantage. There's probably nothing more attractive to a powerful man, she decided, than a beautiful and hopelessly vulnerable young woman.

"When she would go to c.o.c.ktail parties, she would put on the act for all to see," said Jerry Eidelman, an aspiring actor who knew Marilyn. "She was living in a duplex on Fountain Avenue in West Hollywood at the time with a scary acting teacher. [Marilyn had moved in with Natasha-but platonically, just to save money.] She and the teacher had a c.o.c.ktail party one night and invited me because I lived in the neighborhood. When I would see Marilyn here and there, I found her to be bright... and interested. But when I went to this c.o.c.ktail party, I was amazed by what I saw of her. She came off like she didn't have two brain cells to rub together. She was very flirtatious with anyone she thought might help her, any of the acting teacher's guests who, I took it, were casting agents. She had on a dress that was so tight there was no way she could sit down while wearing it. I noticed that she just sort of propped herself up in a corner with a martini in her hand and received admirers as if she was royalty-a princess who was just a bit drunk. She had this little girl's kind of voice, which was not very much like what I knew her to sound like in her day-to-day life. I knew she put some of that on for most of her movies, I just didn't know she did it in real life." * *

Her costar in the movie The Fireball The Fireball, James Brown, concurred. "She'd sit there batting her eyes and give you the feeling she was a pretty dumb girl, but then there was this intense, almost secret-like sincerity behind what she'd say, and that left me with the idea that this girl is a mystery. She was truly a mystery."

Jerry Eidelman continued, "The next day, I saw her walking a little dog she had, a Chihuahua, I think. I remember she had on black-and-white checked pedal pushers with a little white peasant blouse, b.u.t.toned all the way to the top. And she had on what looked like ballerina shoes-flats of some kind, made of a satin material. One thing about running into her, if you liked her as much as I did you instantly memorized whatever she had on-at least I always did. Anyway, I stopped her and said, 'You know, Marilyn, you were very different last night at the party.' She looked at me with wide eyes and said, 'Why, whatever do you mean, Jerry?' I just smiled at her and said, 'You know what I mean.' She gave me a little look. 'Marilyn, you're no dumb blonde, and you know it,' I told her. 'If anything, you're as dumb as a blonde fox.' She loved that. 'I don't even know what that means,' she said, 'but that's pretty funny, Jerry.' Then she winked at me and continued on her way with her dog."

By this time Johnny Hyde's health had begun to fail and he was for the most part restricted to his bed. For a man who had tried to stay so vital despite his heart disease, this was a heavy cross to bear. He was still devoted to Marilyn, though she seemed less interested in him-especially when he became ill. "I don't know how to deal with it," she told one relative. "It makes me so sad to see him. I think he believes I'm heartless because I don't want to see him that way. I just don't know what to do."

At the end of the year, Marilyn finally signed a three-year contract with the William Morris Agency for representation. She'd just had a handshake deal with Johnny the entire time they'd been working together. Now it was time to make it official. At this same time, Johnny arranged for her to have an important screen test at Fox. "She was excited about that, I remember," said Jerry Eidelman. "She told me that she wanted nothing more than to do a good job, sign with Fox, and, as she put it, 'become the biggest star there is, Jerry-the biggest star there is!' I told her, 'You know, Marilyn, there's more to show business than stardom. There's acting.' And she looked at me squarely and said, 'Yes, Jerry, but sadly you don't get to do much unless you're a big star.' She had me there.

"The day after the screen test, she was on cloud nine. She said it had gone very well. A couple days later, she looked a little crushed when I saw her. She said she didn't get a big contract with the studio, but she did get a movie. 'It's a comedy,' she said glumly. 'I play a secretary.' I asked her what it was called. She said, 'Who cares, Jerry? I play a dumb secretary. That's not going to take me anywhere I haven't already been.' I suggested that maybe she needed a new agent. 'Great,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'I just signed with William Morris for three years.' Then she tossed her head back and laughed. 'I think my goose is cooked,' she said. 'If you see me still out here walking my own dog next month, you'll know it was a bit part, like all my other pictures.' She was disappointed but, still, there was something about her that made you know she was not going to give up. I thought to myself, you know, she's really something, that Marilyn Monroe."

The movie Marilyn referred to was to be called As Young as You Feel As Young as You Feel. The deal was put together for her by Johnny Hyde, of course, with an eye toward securing a contract with Fox. He was really working for her, he loved her so much. "You know, maybe you should marry him," Joseph Schenck told Marilyn. "What do you have to lose?" She usually respected Schenck's opinion, but not this time. "I'm not going to marry someone I'm not in love with," she told him. "But Marilyn, which would you rather have-a poor boy you loved with all your heart, or a rich man who loved you with all his?" She said she'd rather have the poor boy. "I thought you were smarter than that," Schenck told her, joking with her now. "I'm disappointed in you, Marilyn."

In mid-December, Marilyn and Natasha went to Tijuana to do some Christmas shopping. Johnny and his secretary went to Palm Springs for the weekend. It was there that he had a heart attack. He was rushed back to Los Angeles by ambulance. Marilyn sped back to the city as quickly as she could. Johnny's nephew, Norman Brokaw-also representing her at William Morris-accompanied Marilyn to Cedars of Lebanon Hospital (now Cedars-Sinai Medical Center), but by the time they got there, Johnny was dead. She was told that before he pa.s.sed away, he cried out, "Marilyn! Marilyn! Marilyn!"

The hospital staff let Marilyn and Norman enter Johnny's room, where his body was still on a bed covered by a white sheet. Marilyn, seeming stricken, her eyes dark and shadowed in pain, walked on shaky legs to the bed and very slowly pulled the sheet down to Johnny's shoulders. Johnny had once told her that if he were to die, all she would have to do would be to hold him in her arms and he would spring back to life, just for her. Gazing down at his dead body, tears of regret and sorrow spilled onto his face as she cried out, "Johnny, I did love you. Please know that I did love you."

Suicide over Johnny?

Johnny Hyde's funeral was extremely difficult; his estranged wife refused to allow Marilyn Monroe to attend it. "They thought I was awful," Marilyn later recalled. It's been said that Marilyn and Natasha Lytess disguised themselves as family servants and managed to get into the service anyway, which was held at Johnny's North Palm Drive house. Elia Kazan's yarn was that Marilyn broke into the house the night before the service and kept vigil till morning beside Johnny's coffin. Later there were published accounts that the next day at the funeral, she hurled herself onto the coffin and had to be pulled off it, kicking and screaming in agonizing grief. That story was started by Marilyn, in her own book: "I threw myself on the coffin and sobbed. I wished I was dead with him." No one remembers anything like this happening at the funeral. Rather, Marilyn was apparently subdued and contemplative throughout the burial service at Forest Lawn Memorial Park.

Afterward, Marilyn stayed at Johnny's grave site for many hours, alone with her thoughts and memories. She stayed so long, in fact, that the sun was setting and an attendant suggested that she take her leave. According to veteran Hollywood agent Norman Winters, that anecdote is actually true.

She hadn't been in love with Johnny; she was clear about it. It was just a simple matter of chemistry. She hadn't wanted to lead him on, but didn't know how to keep him in her life-indeed, in her career-without having s.e.x with him, which, she later admitted, "was, I guess, the same as leading him on." However, they had shared so many intimate moments, she felt certain that no one knew him quite as well as she did. "No one knows the true depth of what we shared," she would later tell one of her closest friends. "When it's just the two of you in bed in each other's arms and it's pitch black in the room and you put your head on his chest and hear his heart beat, that's when you really know a man. When his heart beats for you, that's when you really know him."

"If I had never met him, he would be alive with his family," a distraught Marilyn told Natasha, according to Natasha's memory. "And now I'm alone."

"You're not alone," Natasha told her, hugging her tightly. "I'm with you, Marilyn. I'm with you."

"I had to keep telling her 'you're not alone,' " Natasha would later recall, "because I truly believed she was about to end her life."

"I hadn't seen her in some time," said her neighbor Jerry Eidelman, "and I ran into her in-of all places-the grocery store. It had to have been just a day or so after the funeral. She was buying cleaning supplies. I remember that she had on yellow slacks and a white-and-yellow angora sweater, her hair in a ponytail and horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. 'Are you cleaning the house?' I asked her. She forced sort of a thin smile and said, 'No, I don't clean, Jerry. We have someone else do the cleaning. But for her to shop for the supplies would cost more money, so I'm doing it.' Then she said, 'I need to stay busy. Did you hear about Johnny Hyde?' I told her I did. She said, 'It's so awful. I don't know how to cope with it. And then this thing with my mother, too, is driving me crazy.' I asked what she was talking about, and she said that her mother had gone off and married some creep and that she was worried sick about her. She said she was thinking of going on a trip to try to find the woman and rescue her from her husband. I said, 'But Marilyn, you can't do that. Or at least not alone. Take me with you. We'll find her together.' She said, 'I don't think I can expose you or anyone else to my mother. You don't know what she has put me and my sister through. She's very ill.' Then, in what I now view as one of those great Marilyn Monroe moments, she put her hand up to her forehead dramatically, swooned a little, and whispered, 'I'm so sorry, I simply must go now.' She then rushed out, leaving her cart of cleaning supplies behind.

"I paid for the stuff and took it to her home. I knocked on the door and she answered. She looked awful. She'd been crying and was very pale. 'Here are your cleaning supplies,' I told her. 'You forgot them.' She looked at me blankly and asked, 'What cleaning supplies?' I said, 'Thirty minutes ago, Marilyn-at the grocery store, remember?' She was very disoriented. 'Oh, that's right, the cleaning supplies,' she said. She then took the bag from me, and without saying thank you or anything else, just turned and closed the door behind her. It was very strange and, also, very disconcerting."

A couple of days after Johnny's funeral, Natasha returned home from work at the studio and found Marilyn in her bedroom. She was out cold, her cheeks puffed out and her coloring pale. Horrified, Natasha rushed to her side and forced open her mouth. It was full of dissolving pills. Natasha managed to shake Marilyn awake. By way of explanation, Marilyn told her she had taken some sleeping pills-which she had bought over the counter at Schwab's-and then fell asleep before she could wash them down. It seemed such an unlikely scenario, Natasha didn't really believe it. "She felt worthless," Natasha later remembered. "She thought she was responsible for Hyde's heart attack. If he had not loved her and cared so much about her [she thought] he would still be alive."

No, Marilyn insisted, she had not tried to kill herself over Johnny Hyde. She would never do such a thing. She later told photographer and friend Milton Greene, "I felt guilty and I had a lot of feelings to sort through-but, oh baby, I sure didn't want to die. The fact is," she concluded, sadly, "he had made certain that I had nothing to die for."

Natasha wasn't convinced. She wrote a letter to her student Helena Albert at this time in which she said she felt that Marilyn "was intent on doing herself in" and that she feared there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it. "I think that when a person wants to kill herself, she will at some point do it despite the best intentions of her friends to prevent it from happening," she wrote. She also wrote that she was determined to be loyal to Marilyn and do whatever she could to "keep her stabilized and," she added, somewhat wryly, "if there is any time for it, perhaps we will be able to work on her acting, as well."

Two weeks later, on Christmas Day, Marilyn Monroe presented Natasha Lytess with an antique ivory cameo brooch framed in gold. On it, she had inscribed, "I just want you to know that I owe you much much more than my life." more than my life."

Marilyn Tries to Meet Her "Father"

When Johnny Hyde died, Marilyn felt that she'd lost not only one of her greatest allies, but also the closest thing she had to a father figure. She turned to Natasha Lytess to get through this difficult time. Natasha was supportive, of course, but she believed that Johnny's death could indirectly have a troubling effect on Marilyn's career. Natasha had been working with Marilyn on "deepening" her performances. She now saw that she had such great potential and wanted to make certain that she didn't fall back to the mostly hollow portrayals she had been doing in her earlier films. "I think tragic roles are her forte," she would later observe. "There is a strangeness about her... an un-real quality."

Though she wasn't exactly a fan of Johnny Hyde's, Natasha couldn't help but believe that Marilyn's a.s.sociation with him had had a positive effect on her acting. After her most recent performances, she felt certain that Marilyn was on the brink of a major breakthrough. She had seen a maturation of Marilyn as both a woman and an actress. Natasha thought that Johnny believed in Marilyn so much, it encouraged her to finally believe in herself-and thus she saw the benefits not only in her acting but in her day-to-day life. With Johnny gone, Natasha felt that they needed somehow to find another person to fill that role in Marilyn's life. Was it possible that her real father might do so? Natasha felt it was worth a try.

In Marilyn Monroe's life, there was no question in her mind about her paternity. She simply knew that Charles Gifford was her father-just as Gladys had known so many years earlier. Since this was before medical confirmation of paternity was even a viable option, there probably had been no way for Marilyn to know absolutely-yet she said she absolutely knew in her heart. When Natasha approached Marilyn about tracking down her father, saying that they should have a face-to-face encounter with him, Marilyn was agreeable.

Marilyn spent a few days doing an investigation into just what happened to her father after he left Los Angeles. It turned out he didn't go far. Gifford had moved to Northern California. After working as a contractor responsible for the building of chalets for a private resort, he went into poultry farming. He married again, to a woman who died soon after the wedding. Finally, he established the Red Rock Dairy, a five-acre farm in Hemet, where he remarried. While Marilyn had no problem finding Gifford's home address, she couldn't find a current phone number for him-though word had definitely begun to spread through Hemet that she was trying to find one. Apparently she decided that she would take a risk and drive to Hemet, hoping that maybe an element of surprise would work in her favor.

Susan Reimer, who was eight years old at the time, recalled that her family was excited that a celebrity was coming to visit their "Uncle Stan." When she asked her mother, Dolly, who was coming, the older woman put a finger up to her mouth and said, "Shhh. We're not supposed to tell a soul. But it's"-dramatic pause-"Marilyn Monroe." Reimer recalled, "That's when I learned about the family's secret, one that was never discussed openly and only whispered about. Uncle Stan was Marilyn Monroe's father. I was told to keep my mouth shut about it, and I did for many years." She says that when she confronted her uncle and asked him directly about his link to Marilyn Monroe, he balked and said that he didn't want to reveal anything that would hurt his wife.

Charles Stanley Gifford Jr. today says, "People have been trying to connect these dots back to my family for decades. It's not true. My father would have told me if he was Marilyn Monroe's father, too. He just would have. The press pestered him and my poor stepmother, Mary, to death because of these stories Marilyn made up. The poor woman had nothing to do with it, and yet never had a moment's peace in her life because of it."

Back in Los Angeles, Marilyn, armed only with Gifford's address, prepared to depart, a.s.suming that Natasha would be joining her on the drive. However, Lytess seemed to think that Marilyn needed to face that powerful moment on her own. Susan Martinson, who was eighteen in 1950 and a student and friend of Lytess's, recalled, "Natasha told me that Marilyn cornered her and said, 'Please come with me. I don't want to drive up there alone. He's already hung up on me once and I'm not sure I'll be able to handle it if he rejects me again.' Natasha tried to talk her way out of it, but Marilyn insisted."

Marilyn and Natasha drove several hours to Charles Gifford's home. When they finally arrived, Marilyn reached into the backseat and fished through her purse. There she found a recent magazine that featured her on the cover. She took a deep breath, then exited the car. Did she really believe that this man could be unaware of who she was-that she needed proof that she was "somebody" to convince him she was worthy of a chance to plead her case? Possibly. She rang the doorbell, then waited, the magazine in her hand rolled into a tube.

The door opened.

Marilyn lifted her lowered head to find-a woman. Apparently, it was Mary Gifford, Charles Stanley Gifford's present wife. Marilyn's conversation with her was brief. All that came of it was a business card with Gifford's lawyer's number on it, and an awful memory of another broken dream. Gifford's son, Charles Stanley Jr., insists today that "my father would never have given Marilyn a business card." In a letter to her former student Helena Albert, Natasha was very clear that she and Marilyn definitely had made the trip, though. She wrote that it had been her idea and that "I regret now putting Marilyn through it because I think it did her no good." She also wrote that during the long drive she and Marilyn discussed "her father issues," and that Natasha had decided before they even got to Hemet that "we were making a mistake in not bringing a psychiatrist with us. I don't know what I was thinking!"

In 1962, Charles Stanley Gifford was diagnosed with cancer shortly before Marilyn Monroe's death. At that time, he supposedly tried to contact Marilyn from a California hospital. According to Monroe's friend, actor and ma.s.seur Ralph Roberts, a nurse telephoned Marilyn and said, "Your father is very ill and may die. His dying wish is to see you." To that, Marilyn was alleged to have said, "Tell the gentleman to contact my lawyer." Again, his son doesn't believe it. "Absolutely not. If you knew my father, you would know how ridiculous that is. It is not true."

Charles Stanley Gifford would die of cancer in 1965. Before his death, he supposedly confided to his Presbyterian minister, Dr. Donald Liden, that he had recently spoken to Marilyn on the telephone-impossible, of course, since she would have pa.s.sed away three years earlier. When Dr. Liden questioned Gifford about it, he confessed. "My daughter was Marilyn Monroe," he said. Dr. Liden recalled, "My jaw dropped. But I didn't doubt the truth of it. He said that he felt the mother [Gladys] had been unfair. She had cut him off and didn't allow him to see the child. When he married again, it got difficult. His wife was a fine woman and he didn't want to hurt her by acknowledging he'd had a child out of wedlock. I detected it was a sorrowful thing for him."

"I was with my father every day when he was sick," insists his son, Charles Jr. "There was no deathbed confession to me, I can tell you that much. We were very close. He told me the particulars of where he wanted to be buried, how he felt about his life, his children. If ever there would have been a time for a deathbed confession, it would have been on his deathbed!

"My father and his friend Ray Guthrie lived together at the time he was dating Gladys," Gifford Jr. continues. "I once called Ray and asked him about this time. He said, 'Yeah, I remember Gladys. She used to come around and cook breakfast for us and we'd go out and do this and that, just have fun, nothing serious.' I asked, 'Well did Dad ever say anything to you about fathering a child by her?' He just laughed and said, 'No, but if he had, he sure would have mentioned it.'

"My father's DNA is on record at Riverside Hospital," he concludes. "If Marilyn Monroe's DNA is on record at one of the hospitals she was ever in, I challenge someone to do a test and compare them, and you'll find that Charles Stanley Gifford is not her father-and I am not her half brother."

Early Films.

The films featuring Marilyn Monroe in 1950 and 1951 were not exactly memorable. As Young as You Feel As Young as You Feel found her back at 20th Century-Fox, and despite her sixth-place billing and her prominent display on the posters and lobby cards, she had but two brief scenes as Harriet, a secretary. Then there was found her back at 20th Century-Fox, and despite her sixth-place billing and her prominent display on the posters and lobby cards, she had but two brief scenes as Harriet, a secretary. Then there was Love Nest Love Nest, a postWorld War II s.e.x comedy without the s.e.x, starring June Haver and William Lundigan. Marilyn's role was described in a review as "an extended cameo," the highlight being a scene in which she emerges from a shower, draped in a towel. There was also Let's Make It Legal Let's Make It Legal, with things only slightly better for Marilyn as regards her screen time, which is mostly spent in a bathing suit. Claudette Colbert and Macdonald Carey star in this romantic comedy "that feels overstretched even at an hour and a quarter," in one critic's appraisal.

In March 1951, the deal Johnny Hyde had been working on for Marilyn to re-sign with Fox was finally finished, without him. The William Morris Agency, Johnny's firm, wasn't interested in Marilyn after his death, so she ended up with the Famous Artists Agency, where she would be managed for the next several years by a man named Hugh French. The Fox deal was for forty weeks and $500 a week whether she worked or not-and she couldn't work for anyone else either, unless the company loaned her out. At the end of each year, the studio could decide not to renew, and if so, she would be on her own once again. However, Fox could also renew at the end of the term, and if it did she would receive $750 a week for the second year, $1,250 for the third, $1,500 for the fourth, $2,000 for the fifth, $2,500 for the sixth, and $3,500 for the seventh, if she lasted that long. It's interesting that she would now be working for Darryl Zanuck again, a man who clearly had no love for her. He only signed her because Joe Schenck, Johnny Hyde, and so many others kept pressuring him about it. Natasha Lytess also went with Marilyn as part of the deal, and would be getting $750 a week to coach Marilyn-$500 from Fox and $250 from Marilyn. So Marilyn was paying Natasha 50 percent of what Fox paid her that first year, which certainly showed how much value she placed on her work with the acting teacher. Natasha was making quite a bit more money that first year than Marilyn herself.

Another of her early films was Fritz Lang's Clash by Night Clash by Night (made in 1951, though released in 1952), adapted for the screen from an unsuccessful Broadway play by Clifford Odets, who, with the play's director, Lee Strasberg, and others, had founded the controversial, left-leaning Group Theatre in the 1930s. The play starred Tallulah Bankhead as Mae Doyle, a part a.s.sumed by Barbara Stanwyck in the film. Despite her prominent billing, Marilyn's role was minor. Still, she received excellent notices, among them these words of praise by Alton Cook in the (made in 1951, though released in 1952), adapted for the screen from an unsuccessful Broadway play by Clifford Odets, who, with the play's director, Lee Strasberg, and others, had founded the controversial, left-leaning Group Theatre in the 1930s. The play starred Tallulah Bankhead as Mae Doyle, a part a.s.sumed by Barbara Stanwyck in the film. Despite her prominent billing, Marilyn's role was minor. Still, she received excellent notices, among them these words of praise by Alton Cook in the New York World-Telegram and Sun New York World-Telegram and Sun: "The girl has a refreshing exuberance, an abundance of girlish high spirits. She is a forceful actress, too.... She has definitely stamped herself as a gifted new star.... Her role here is not very big, but she makes it dominant." If Fox's loaning out of its contract player to RKO was meant to test the waters as to her box-office potential, as has been speculated, the studio got its answer. Thus rea.s.sured, Fox set about finding scripts to showcase her obvious charms, pairing her with more established leading men.

Jasper Dies.

By the fall of 1951, Marilyn Monroe had moved out of Natasha Lytess's apartment and begun sharing a home with Sh.e.l.ley Winters in Hollywood. There were no hard feelings, apparently, since the three women remained social together after Marilyn moved in with Sh.e.l.ley. That said, she would have a lot more fun with the thrill-seeking Winters than she ever did with the often maudlin Natasha Lytess. Also, at the suggestion of one of her intimates, Elia Kazan, Marilyn would begin taking additional acting cla.s.ses with renowned drama teacher Michael Chekhov, known for his acting technique called "The Method." She had told Kazan that she was bored with the roles she was playing because so many of them had been basically the same kind of empty-headed characterization. She wanted nothing more than to challenge herself with more complex parts-and also wanted others to think of her as being more than a caricature. He agreed. She had a lot to give, she just needed to sharpen her skills. (It's not known how Natasha Lytess felt about Marilyn's second acting teacher.) Kazan also suggested that Marilyn take more cla.s.ses at UCLA, and she did. She enrolled there for a course in "Backgrounds of Literature," described as "Historical, social and cultural aspects of various periods with an introduction to the literature, itself." Anytime she had an opportunity to broaden her mind, she wanted to take advantage of it. This time, though, she caused quite a sensation on campus, unlike her previous experience there when she wasn't as well known. She would have much preferred to blend in with the other students, but how could she?

At this same time, Marilyn received a telephone call from her half sister Berniece. Berniece's father, Jasper-who had been married to Marilyn's mother, Gladys, and who had absconded with her children so many years ago-had died. Even though Marilyn never met him, she did have some knowledge of him. When, as Norma Jeane, she had become old enough to start asking questions about her father, Gladys had told her that he had died in an automobile accident. (Marilyn would later say that she never really believed it. Once, she said, when she pushed the issue, Gladys "went into the bedroom and locked herself in.") Gladys had kept a photo of Edward Mortenson-Jasper-on her wall, seen by Norma Jeane on the few occasions she would visit. When the young girl finally inquired as to the ident.i.ty of the man in the picture, Gladys lied and said that he was her father. Marilyn then fell completely under his spell, she would later say, even if he was just a man in a photograph. "It felt so good to have a father, to be able to look at his picture and know I belonged to him," she later recalled. "And what a wonderful photograph it was. He wore a slouch hat a little gaily on the side. There was a lively smile in his eyes, and he had a thin mustache like Clark Gable. I felt very warm toward the picture." In fact, Marilyn recalled that looking at that photo of her father was "my first happy time." She said she spent many nights dreaming of him and fantasizing about the kind of man he might have been if only he'd been in her life.

Now the man Marilyn had spun so many fantasies around was gone. Jasper was the only parent Berniece had ever known. The most Marilyn could do was feel sorry for Berniece's loss and stash her conflicted feelings about Jasper in her heart-along with all of the other ambivalent feelings she had about her parents.

Soon after Jasper's death, authorities in Pineville, Kentucky, noted that he was listed on Marilyn's birth certificate as her father. This gave them a great excuse to be in contact with a movie star. Marilyn was pestered by lawyers in Kentucky for months as to whether she wanted to stake a claim on Jasper's meager estate, until finally she made it clear-via her own attorney-that she had no such interest. Also at about this time, she hired a robust woman named Inez Melson, with large round gla.s.ses and an officious demeanor, as her business manager. She was instructed to try to send money to Gladys on a regular basis-difficult to do since it was always so difficult to keep track of Gladys's whereabouts. Though she had filed for divorce from John Eley, Gladys was still with him, as far as anyone knew, and the two were traveling across the country together.

One evening, Marilyn received a long-distance collect telephone call from Gladys, though she had no idea from where it originated. Gladys said that she didn't want to be found, that she felt let down by Marilyn and Berniece, and that the two of them were "very, very disappointing daughters." She ranted on about how much she loved Marilyn and that she had only given her up because her own mother, Della, had insisted upon it. She wanted to know how much longer Marilyn was going to hold it against her. Then she said that when Marilyn was a couple of years old, she caught "the whooping cough" from her foster brother, Lester, and that Gladys had moved into Ida Bolender's home and nursed Norma Jeane back to health. "And I stayed there for a whole month with you," she told Marilyn. "And you've never even thanked me for it." Marilyn had a very vague memory of Ida once telling her about something like that, but she certainly didn't remember it happening. It was very rare for Gladys to bring up the past. Marilyn thought perhaps it meant that Gladys was showing some improvement, because her memory was quite clear, and she suggested that Gladys return home as soon as possible so that they could discuss it and perhaps work things out between them. "But that's not possible," Gladys said, "because there are people telling me what to do, and they have told me not to go back to California under any circ.u.mstances. I could be in grave danger there." Now Gladys's illness was talking again. The disturbing telephone call ended with her warning Marilyn to be careful. "You're being watched," she told her daughter. "You must believe me, Norma Jeane." Then she hung up.

Marilyn later told Rupert Allan that she cried herself to sleep that night-but not before making sure all of her shades were drawn.

Don't Bother to Knock.

At about this time, Marilyn began work on what would be her most important role to date. Fox boss Darryl Zanuck, always ambivalent about Marilyn Monroe's film future, was not quite ready to a.s.sign her to lead roles in "A" pictures and continued to look for more modest projects, budget-wise, for his contractee. He required her to screen test for Don't Bother to Knock Don't Bother to Knock, which had the following story line: Nell Forbes, recently released from a mental inst.i.tution, is recommended for a babysitting job by her uncle (Elisha Cook Jr.), the elevator operator in the hotel where the action takes place, while the child's wealthy parents, Peter and Ruth Jones (Jim Backus and Lurene Tuttle), are having dinner. Dressed in a s.e.xy negligee belonging to Mrs. Jones and wearing her jewelry and perfume, Nell begins a flirtatious, at-a-distance, slow dance of seduction for a cynical airline pilot, Jed Towers (Richard Widmark), who occupies a room across the courtyard. After Jed figures out her room number and knocks on the door, Nell invites him in, creating a situation that soon turns dangerous, with Nell alternately threatening to throw herself out the window or kill her young ward, Bunny (Donna Corcoran), now fully awake and terrified. Anne Bancroft, after a busy year acting in a series of TV programs, would make her feature film debut in this movie as Lyn Leslie, a cabaret singer in the hotel's nightclub and the ex-girlfriend of Jed.

The importance the studio placed on the film is evident in the care it gave the production artistically, a.s.signing the studio's top composer to create the score, multiple Oscar winner Alfred Newman. The script was adapted by Daniel Taradash, who would be awarded an Oscar in 1954 for his screenplay of From Here to Eternity From Here to Eternity, the year's Best Picture Academy Award winner. Future Oscar winner Lucien Ballard was named director of photography; he had gained industry recognition as the creator of the Obie, a camera on which was mounted a key light, designed to eliminate any skin flaws on the face. Formerly married to Merle Oberon, he came up with the idea to disguise the imperfections on her skin that resulted from a serious car crash. The camera was named for her.

Marilyn was extremely nervous about the screen test. She knew that Zanuck wasn't a fan. She and Natasha Lytess spent hours working on the script. "I have to say that I didn't think she was ready to take on a role of this magnitude," Natasha later said. "I may have underestimated her talent in that regard. Or, at the very least, I underestimated her resolve. The time we spent on the script-two days, nonstop and I don't even remember sleeping!-was very dramatic and pa.s.sionate and filled with angst, very much like Marilyn all the time. In the end, she did such a great job on the screen test that Zanuck saw fit to write her a note to congratulate her, which surprised-and thrilled-her to no end. She was so insecure and unsure of her ability, any validation at all was considered high praise." very much like Marilyn all the time. In the end, she did such a great job on the screen test that Zanuck saw fit to write her a note to congratulate her, which surprised-and thrilled-her to no end. She was so insecure and unsure of her ability, any validation at all was considered high praise."

However, Zanuck would say of her performance in the film, "She's a dumb tomato and half-crazy to boot. She's a s.e.x pot who wiggles and walks and breathes s.e.x, and each picture she's in she'll earn her keep, but no more dramatic roles no more dramatic roles."

Marilyn's friend John Gilmore quoted Montgomery Clift, who said it best about Marilyn's relationship with Zanuck and Fox at this time: "Fox wanted to keep a tight grip on her and drain her dry. That's what they were after. The best talents, the other artists, they saw that differently and understood Marilyn had a right to make the choice of not demeaning herself. But the boss wouldn't let her. They didn't want an actress. That's what they agreed upon. They'd sit at their round table and decide that Marilyn wasn't capable of making a relevant decision."

While some critics of the day were dismissive of Marilyn's emotive skills-giving Fox's Zanuck ammunition to use against her-others would praise her, including Daily Variety Daily Variety: "[Marilyn Monroe] gives an excellent account of herself in a strictly dramatic role which commands certain attention." Studio decision makers were encouraged, and after filming concluded in January 1952, they had another film ready for her (Monkey Business, which began its eight weeks of production on March 5).

Over time Marilyn's acting in Don't Bother to Knock Don't Bother to Knock has been rea.s.sessed and her notices when the film was released in 2002 as part of a DVD boxed set were uniformly excellent. As film noir, the film has stood the test of time, and gives an inkling of what the future superstar would do with a highly emotional, offbeat role a year later-that of Rose Loomis, an adulterous wife, in the splashy 1953 Technicolor hit has been rea.s.sessed and her notices when the film was released in 2002 as part of a DVD boxed set were uniformly excellent. As film noir, the film has stood the test of time, and gives an inkling of what the future superstar would do with a highly emotional, offbeat role a year later-that of Rose Loomis, an adulterous wife, in the splashy 1953 Technicolor hit Niagara Niagara. When Marilyn's psychological problems eventually became known, many overa.n.a.lytical parallels would be made between her and her screen character, Nell Forbes; but these parallels are unwarranted, and unfairly diminish her talent as an actress. She came to the set prepared, and though coached by Natasha Lytess, she delivered a great performance.

Still, after Don't Bother to Knock Don't Bother to Knock, the bad movies continued for Marilyn. In fact, the next year-1952-would start off on a difficult note when in March, Marilyn began work on Monkey Business Monkey Business, in which she played, much to her dismay, a stacked and dumb secretary to Cary Grant's scientist. Also at around this time, she made a movie called We're Not Married We're Not Married, which starred Ginger Rogers, Mitzi Gaynor, Eve Arden, and Zsa Zsa Gabor. Because the film is centered on three self-contained stories, there is no interaction between most of the various players, so we are denied the pleasure of seeing Zsa Zsa and Marilyn lock horns. This was another dead-end movie that added nothing much to her resume. It was also the year O. Henry's Full House O. Henry's Full House was released, consisting of five self-contained mini-movies, each with a separate cast, separate writers, and separate directors, all based on famous short stories by O. Henry, the acknowledged master of the literary form that always bore a touching and unexpected irony in its denouement and became the author's signature. It received a first-cla.s.s production and starred some of the Fox lot's most popular actors, but there wasn't much for Marilyn to do in this one and most people don't even know she was in it. was released, consisting of five self-contained mini-movies, each with a separate cast, separate writers, and separate directors, all based on famous short stories by O. Henry, the acknowledged master of the literary form that always bore a touching and unexpected irony in its denouement and became the author's signature. It received a first-cla.s.s production and starred some of the Fox lot's most popular actors, but there wasn't much for Marilyn to do in this one and most people don't even know she was in it.

"This is not easy," Marilyn would tell Berniece when speaking of her career. "I don't know how many bad movies an actress can make before she just becomes known for... bad movies!"

Joe DiMaggio.

Joltin' Joe. The Yankee Clipper. No matter the nickname, few major-league baseball players in history had as much of an impact on our culture as the famous Joe DiMaggio. In the view of some historians, though, he may be as well known for his relationship with Marilyn Monroe as for his skill as a New York Yankees center fielder (for his entire professional career, 1936 to 1951).

Born Giuseppe Paolo (Joseph Paul) DiMaggio Jr. on November 25, 1914, Joe was the eighth of nine children of Sicilian immigrants in the small town of Martinez, California. When he was a year old, the family moved to San Francisco. He was raised with strict Catholic values in a household that stressed a strong work ethic and, above all, pride in their Sicilian heritage. At the same time, like most children of immigrants back then, the DiMaggio children were taught by their parents that nothing was more important than successfully merging into the American culture and being thought of as American. When he was a young boy, around six, he was forced to wear a leg brace due to a congenital weakness in his ankles. When the brace came off after two years, he was shy and withdrawn but also determined to excel at some physical activity. His brothers Vincent and Dominic played baseball-both went on to the pros-and he was thus inspired to also play the game. Joe dropped out of high school in the tenth grade-like Marilyn. His father, Giuseppe, had wanted him to be a fisherman-crab fishing had been a family trade for generations-but Joe couldn't stand the smell of fish and cleaning them made him sick to his stomach. For many years, his father would view him as "good for nothing" as a result of his decision to do something other than fishing for a living. Joe's brother Vince played for the San Francisco Seals, and it was he who persuaded the team's management to bring Joe, then eighteen, on as a shortstop in 1932. He wasn't such a great shortstop but he could definitely hit. By the age of twenty-one, he was batting .398. It wasn't long before he became known as a reliable hitter for the team. He made his major-league debut with the Yankees in 1936, batting ahead of Lou Gehrig. From the start, he was a wonder on the field. It had been four years since the team had been in the World Series, but thanks in large part to DiMaggio, the Yankees would find themselves winning the next four fall cla.s.sics. Joe joined the team in 1936 amid a great deal of publicity and attention. He was viewed as the greatest thing to happen to the sport in a long time. Paid $15,000 a game, he used the money to set his family up in a nice home as well as to invest in his own seafood restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf called Joe DiMaggio's Grotto. He had a fifty-six-game hitting streak, from May 15 to July 16, 1941, that is thought of as the greatest in baseball history. Then, after going hitless for one game, he bounced back and hit in the next sixteen games for a total of seventy-two out of seventy-three.

Joe DiMaggio was more than just a baseball player, though. He was a cultural icon during the Great Depression, a desperate time in our history during which Americans sought out public figures for inspiration and motivation. He elevated the sport, but he also elevated the country. Watching DiMaggio in action was a thrill because of his grace and agility, but also it felt like a validation of the American dream. Injuries got the best of him, though, and by the late 1940s there were times when he could barely walk, let alone play the sport. Still, in 1949, he signed a contract with the Yankees for $100,000-an enormous amount of money in the sport at that time. He was deeply depressed after surgery on his foot and the breakup of a marriage-his first, which brought forth one child, a son named Joe Jr. So his heart wasn't really in the sport at this time. Still, even in his darkest hours, he was an amazing player. That year he had four home runs in three games and was rejuvenated. He went on for another year or so playing the game in historic ways as the country watched, mostly amazed by his exploits: He played in 139 games in 1950, scoring 114 runs and three home runs in a single contest! By 1951, though, his injuries (as well as persistent ulcers and painful arthritis) began to take a toll on him. He announced his retirement at the end of 1951 at just thirty-six. By the time he gave up the sport, he had the fifth most career home runs (361) and the sixth highest slugging percentage (.579) in history. He's the only player in baseball history to be selected for the All-Star Game in every season he played. He's still considered one of the best professional baseball players to ever walk out onto a field.

Joe DiMaggio was a complex person, a study in contrasts. Like many celebrated people, he could be charismatic in a room full of people yet distant and sullen behind closed doors. Also, like many celebrities-especially in the sports world-he was accustomed to getting whatever his heart desired when it came to the opposite s.e.x.

What follows is the oft-reported story of how Marilyn Monroe met Joe DiMaggio. It's true that the two did meet at this time; however, new interviews for this book reveal that this really was not the first first time they met. time they met.

First, the accepted story: After seeing Marilyn in a dazzling series of photos she made with the White Sox, Joe decided that he wanted her. Or at least he wanted to meet her, and then take it from there. Marilyn had done the photo shoot with the Sox during their spring training that year at Brookside Park in Pasadena as a publicity gimmick set up by the studio. She posed with popular baseball player Gus Zernial in one of the pictures. After Joe determined that he wanted to know Marilyn, he contacted a mutual friend, David March, and the date was set for March 8, 1952, at Villa Nova, an Italian restaurant. * *

Marilyn wasn't exactly eager to meet Joe. She didn't quite know who he was, and didn't much care. She figured he was just an egotistical baseball player-or maybe a football player, she wasn't sure-and since she knew little about the sport she couldn't imagine what they would have in common. So while Joe DiMaggio sat waiting with David March and an actress named Peggy Rabe, Marilyn did what she did best in these kinds of social situations-she was late. ("It was a balmy night, and I was late, as usual.") In fact, she kept them waiting for almost two hours. Of course, when she appeared, the table was more than happy to see her, especially given that she had on a revealing, low-cut white blouse and a tight little blue skirt that made sitting down just a tad perilous. She didn't know it, but DiMaggio was apprehensive about meeting her.

Marilyn later said that if she hadn't known he was a baseball player, she would have picked him out as "either a steel magnate or a congressman." He was quiet and thoughtful, not at all the boastful sports hero she had expected. He didn't say much. Instead, he just stared into his gla.s.s of vodka, straight with lime. "You know, there's a blue polka dot right there in the middle of your tie," she mentioned, trying to make small talk. "Did you fix it so that it would be like that-right in the middle like that?" He shook his head and tried to avoid her steady gaze. She later recalled thinking that he was adeptly playing one of her her best games-the one where she is enigmatic and elusive, and as a result inspires great curiosity from everyone in her midst. However, she did wonder how two could play such a game and quickly concluded that not much would ever be said between them. best games-the one where she is enigmatic and elusive, and as a result inspires great curiosity from everyone in her midst. However, she did wonder how two could play such a game and quickly concluded that not much would ever be said between them.

What most impressed Marilyn about Joe on this night was that despite his quiet, almost sullen demeanor, he somehow still managed to command the table. In fact, the whole room. Sitting there in his white silk shirt, pearl-gray silk tie, and black trousers, he seemed more like a movie star with the golden tan of a playboy than some jock from New York. He wasn't good-looking: His face was all sharp angles, his teeth not only bucked but haphazardly arranged, his eyes too close together. He was lanky and spindly. He didn't walk, he lumbered. It didn't matter, though. He was still power personified; it seemed to emanate from him, that's how much attention he generated just by his mere presence in a booth in the back of the restaurant. Marilyn was used to getting that kind of rapt attention from onlookers, but on this night she was just... another fan. Or, as she so perfectly put it, "Sitting next to Mr. DiMaggio was like sitting next to a peac.o.c.k with its tail spread, that's how noticeable you were." There was no doubt in her mind that she was fascinated.

After their meal, Marilyn apologized, said she was exhausted and needed to get to bed. "I have to be at the studio in the morning," she explained. When Joe offered to walk her to her car, she didn't turn him down. In fact, she hoped it might give her a little more time to learn more about him. A bevy of smiling faces saw the couple out of the restaurant, all fans of Joe's-a few of Marilyn's too, but hers seemed a lot less excited than his.

Once in the parking lot, Joe asked her to drive him back to his hotel, the Knickerbocker. In her memoir, she recalls that she eagerly agreed because she didn't want the evening to end just yet. She remembered that when they got back to the hotel, they agreed that it had been such a lovely evening, it was a shame to end it. So they tooled around Beverly Hills for three hours-and anyone who knows Beverly Hills knows that it's not exactly a metropolis. Indeed, any two people driving about there for three hours are not looking at the sights but rather are preoccupied with each other.

For the record, the two had actually met a couple years earlier. Back in 1950, when Marilyn was with Johnny Hyde, his nephew, a young William Morris agent named Norman Brokaw, booked her on an NBC program called Lights, Camera, Action Lights, Camera, Action, a thirty-minute variety show hosted by actor Walter Wolf King. Marilyn had a brief walk-on part in a sketch-it was just a way for Brokaw to get some televised footage in order to possibly secure future bookings for her. After the show, Norman and Marilyn walked down Vine Street from the affiliate KNBH studio-now KNBC in Los Angeles-to the famous Brown Derby restaurant. As they had dinner, the actor William Frawley (Fred Mertz from I Love Lucy I Love Lucy) came over to the table. After Norman introduced him to Marilyn Monroe, Frawley said, "You know, I'm sitting over there with Joe D. He really wants to meet this young lady. But he's very shy..." Norman said, "Sure. On our way out, we'll come by and say h.e.l.lo." After Frawley left, Marilyn turned to the agent and said, "So, who's Joe D.?" He said, "That's Joe DiMaggio, one of the greatest baseball players of all time." It meant nothing to her. Then he said, "But I guarantee you that if I introduce you to him, he's going to want your telephone number. Is that okay?" She said it was fine. As they were leaving the Derby, Norman took Marilyn to Joe's table. "Joe, this is Marilyn Monroe," he said, "a young lady we have a great feeling about for the future. I think she's going to be a big star." Joe looked at her warmly, but he was clearly bashful. Barely able to meet her gaze, he said, "Well, listen, you're in the right hands with Norman. He's a great agent." They shook hands, said goodbye, and that was the extent of it.

"Sure enough, the very next morning, one of my first calls was Joe DiMaggio wanting her telephone number," Brokaw recalls. "I gave it to him. Then I called her up and said, 'Marilyn, what'd I tell you. I just gave your telephone number to Joe D.' " It is not known whether Joe called her.

After their dinner in 1952, something began to stir in Marilyn Monroe. She'd never really experienced it before, at least to hear her tell it. She most certainly hadn't been in love with Jim Dougherty. Joe Schenck was kindly and influential, but that wasn't love either. And as much as she wished she could have been in love with Johnny Hyde, the emotion simply never materialized for her. However, the sudden warmth for and pull toward this new fellow, Joe DiMaggio, felt different, unlike anything she'd ever experienced with any other man. Indeed, with this one, it would definitely be... different. different.

The Nude Calendar Scandal.

Within weeks of meeting Joe DiMaggio, Marilyn Monroe faced a career crisis when the nude photos taken by Tom Kelley a couple of years earlier-when Marilyn signed off as "Mona Monroe"-finally surfaced. Actually, they first had come to light on the John Baumgarth 1951 calendar. However, the connection between the naked model and Marilyn Monroe hadn't been made-she wasn't that famous yet, and the photos went unnoticed. By 1952 she was much more of a celebrity, with a few more movies under her belt and much more publicity from the studio. The Baumgarth company decided to use Monroe's photos again for the 1952 calendar-and this time they would not be missed by anyone. When word of the photos began to circulate, the executives at Fox knew they had a big problem on their hands. No actress had ever done anything quite like this before, at least not in anyone's recent memory. "I was sure that it would put an end to my fame and that I would be dropped by the studio, press and public and never survive my 'sin,' " Marilyn later recalled.

She certainly had good reason to be concerned. The Hollywood studio system was incredibly puritanical, and had been since censorship regulations came into play in 1934. Film studios such as 20th Century-Fox had stringent moral clauses in their contracts that were designed to intimidate actors and actresses. They were forbidden to do anything immoral that might affect their image or that of the studio for which they worked, or they would be put under suspension. Not that this ever stopped most actors who were inclined to such behavior anyway. The moral clauses hadn't informed certain decisions made by the likes of Elizabeth Taylor or Frank Sinatra or many other celebrities. They did what they wanted to and just accepted the suspension, considering it a vacation. But none of them had ever posed nude and then had the pictures distributed to a startled nation. Making it much worse for al