Un-American Activities Committee.
Eventually Wintersâs efforts to get Marilyn involved with the theater paid off. She appeared as second lead in the play Glamour Preferred. There were no offers for paid work, but Huntington Hartford, heir to the A&P fortune, approached her backstage after the performance and invited her to dinner. Shelley had reminded the actress that in Hollywood it was whom you knew, not what you knew. Marilyn accepted the invitation.
Joe Schenck continued to call her for dinner, and the impoverished divorcee willingly accepted. Enjoying his company, Monroe would listen to his tales of Old Hollywood long into the night. Marilyn adored him and worshipped his knowledge; his way with words intrigued her, too.
The intimate dinners paid off. Schenck could not stand seeing his favorite girl miserable, so he finally made a call to his old friend and crony, Harry Cohn, who ran Columbia Pictures in Burbank. Cohn had a penchant for gorgeous girls and Schenck was certain he would appreciate Marilynâs beauty. Perhaps Cohn had already spotted her in one of her two feature films, but whatever the reason, he placed the blonde on contract in March 1948.
To be close to the studio, the starlet took up residence with a family as a housesitter. Returning late one evening, she found herself confronted by an off-duty policeman who had had too much to drink. Supposedly he claimed that her beauty had driven him to make unwarranted advances. Marilyn cried for help, and he was arrested. The Hollywood Citizen-News picked up the story and she got her first dose of unfavorable publicity.
Being without a family of sorts was uncomfortable. A woman living without (real) family was a natural target for leeches. At a party at Ben Lyonâs beach house, she dramatized her brush with rape, looking for sympathy and protection. John Carroll, a former leading man and then head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer talent and a voice coach, and his wife Lucille Ryman, were temporary rescuers. Carroll resembled both her idol, Clark Gable, and her long-lost father Gifford who, together, were intertwined as one savior. She was looking for a father for support and protection, both essential for her existence. John and his wife appeared to have a family environment that was both comfortable and reassuring.
Carrollâs motivation for having Marilyn move into their home was questionable. He signed an exclusive management contract with a girl who had obvious talents and looks. Successful film acting depended upon her abilities. He had seen many talented women in his long career at MGM, and this one was different. He saw the enormous talent waiting to be unleashed. The vulnerable beauty turned him on sexually and emotionally.
Moving into the Carrollsâ Cheviot Hills home, near Twentieth Century-Fox, Marilyn quickly grew dependent upon their judgment in making every decision, right down to her choice of dress, lipstick, and nail color. Lucille found her enticing and lovely, no threat whatever to her marriage. She believed any attraction her husband felt toward Marilyn would be fleeting. Then business took a downward turn, and the Carrolls moved to a less expensive house in Hollywood. Marilyn moved along too, but things were winding down at Columbia. As expected, Harry Cohn propositioned the actress, but she refused his advances. His already famous ânight on his yachtâ had gotten stale to the starlets and his unappealing manner and looks were an instant turn-off. Cohn had notches in his belt, and going to bed with him was a last resort for even the most desperate actress. Marilyn could not be bought; if she was attracted to someone, she was willing to share her body and moments of tenderness with him, but she had to be attracted. Harry made his pitch and she refused him. She prayed her refusal wouldnât get her dismissed.
Marilyn was living with the Carrolls and still under contract to Columbia when Aunt Ana Lower died. She had been
Eventually Wintersâs efforts to get Marilyn involved with the theater paid off. She appeared as second lead in the play Glamour Preferred. There were no offers for paid work, but Huntington Hartford, heir to the A&P fortune, approached her backstage after the performance and invited her to dinner. Shelley had reminded the actress that in Hollywood it was whom you knew, not what you knew. Marilyn accepted the invitation.
Joe Schenck continued to call her for dinner, and the impoverished divorcee willingly accepted. Enjoying his company, Monroe would listen to his tales of Old Hollywood long into the night. Marilyn adored him and worshipped his knowledge; his way with words intrigued her, too.
The intimate dinners paid off. Schenck could not stand seeing his favorite girl miserable, so he finally made a call to his old friend and crony, Harry Cohn, who ran Columbia Pictures in Burbank. Cohn had a penchant for gorgeous girls and Schenck was certain he would appreciate Marilynâs beauty. Perhaps Cohn had already spotted her in one of her two feature films, but whatever the reason, he placed the blonde on contract in March 1948.
To be close to the studio, the starlet took up residence with a family as a housesitter. Returning late one evening, she found herself confronted by an off-duty policeman who had had too much to drink. Supposedly he claimed that her beauty had driven him to make unwarranted advances. Marilyn cried for help, and he was arrested. The Hollywood Citizen-News picked up the story and she got her first dose of unfavorable publicity.
Being without a family of sorts was uncomfortable. A woman living without (real) family was a natural target for leeches. At a party at Ben Lyonâs beach house, she dramatized her brush with rape, looking for sympathy and protection. John Carroll, a former leading man and then head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer talent and a voice coach, and his wife Lucille Ryman, were temporary rescuers. Carroll resembled both her idol, Clark Gable, and her long-lost father Gifford who, together, were intertwined as one savior. She was looking for a father for support and protection, both essential for her existence. John and his wife appeared to have a family environment that was both comfortable and reassuring.
Carrollâs motivation for having Marilyn move into their home was questionable. He signed an exclusive management contract with a girl who had obvious talents and looks. Successful film acting depended upon her abilities. He had seen many talented women in his long career at MGM, and this one was different. He saw the enormous talent waiting to be unleashed. The vulnerable beauty turned him on sexually and emotionally.
Moving into the Carrollsâ Cheviot Hills home, near Twentieth Century-Fox, Marilyn quickly grew dependent upon their judgment in making every decision, right down to her choice of dress, lipstick, and nail color. Lucille found her enticing and lovely, no threat whatever to her marriage. She believed any attraction her husband felt toward Marilyn would be fleeting. Then business took a downward turn, and the Carrolls moved to a less expensive house in Hollywood. Marilyn moved along too, but things were winding down at Columbia. As expected, Harry Cohn propositioned the actress, but she refused his advances. His already famous ânight on his yachtâ had gotten stale to the starlets and his unappealing manner and looks were an instant turn-off. Cohn had notches in his belt, and going to bed with him was a last resort for even the most desperate actress. Marilyn could not be bought; if she was attracted to someone, she was willing to share her body and moments of tenderness with him, but she had to be attracted. Harry made his pitch and she refused him. She prayed her refusal wouldnât get her dismissed.
Marilyn was living with the Carrolls and still under contract to Columbia when Aunt Ana Lower died. She had been
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