#Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen

[bargainsleuthbooks]

Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James #BookReview #NetGalley #ARCReview #historicalmystery #LGBTQ #hollywood #Sourcebooks

When a playwright's nemesis, a gossip columnist, is found murdered in the same way as one of her murder mystery plays, all eyes turn to her as a suspect. #lastnightatthehollywoodcanteen #sourcebookslandmark #bookreview #ARCReview #netgalley #bargainsleuth

Perhaps the best place in 1943 Hollywood to see the stars is the Hollywood Canteen, a club for servicemen staffed exclusively by those in show business. Murder mystery playwright Annie Laurence, new in town after a devastating breakup, definitely hopes to rub elbows with the right stars. Maybe then she can get her movie made. But Hollywood proves to be more than tinsel and glamour. When despised…

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Queer Books November 2023

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ The Pirate and the Porcelain Girl by Emily Riesbeck 🧡 Heading North by Holly M. Wendt 💛 The Wisdom of Bug by Alyson Root 💚 Trick Shot by Kayla Grosse 💙 A Holly Jolly Christmas by Emily Wright 💜 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey ❤️ Yours Celestially by Al Hess 🧡 The Christmas Memory by Barbara Winkes 💛 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon 💙 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry 💜 Only for the Holidays by Shannon O’Connor 🌈 Homestead for the Holidays by Wren Taylor

❤️ You Can Count on Me by Fae Quin 🧡 No One Left But You by Tash McAdam 💛 The Worst Thing of All is the Light by José Luis Serrano, Lawrence Schimel 💚 Today Tonight Forever by Madeline Kay Sneed 💙 Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt 💜 Emmett by L. C. Rosen ❤️ Finding My Elf by David Valdes 🧡 Tonight, I Burn by Katharine J. Adams 💛 Gorgeous Gruesome Faces by Linda Cheng 💙 Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske 🌈 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull

❤️ The Manor House Governess by C.A. Castle 🧡 You Owe Me One, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James 💚 Skip!: A Graphic Novel by Rebecca Burgess 💙 Something About Her by Clementine Taylor 💜 Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore ❤️ A Nearby Country Called Love by Salar Abdoh 🧡 Normporn: Queer Viewers and the TV That Soothes Us by Karen Tongson 💛 Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost by Esme Symes-Smith 💙 The Order of the Banshee by Robyn Singer 💜 Once Upon My Dads’ Divorce by Seamus Kirst, Noémie Gionet Landry 🌈 Forsooth by Jimmy Matejek-Morris

❤️ A Common Bond by T.M. Kuta 🧡 Risk the Fall by Riley Hart 💛 Just a Little Snack by Yah-Yah Scholfield 💚 Home for the Holidays by Erin Zak 💙 NeurodiVeRse by MJ James 💜 Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat ❤️ sub/Dom by Rab Green 🧡 Bitten by the Bond by Elaine White 💛 Heir to Frost and Storm by Ben Alderson 💙 The Sea of Stars by Gwenhyver 💜 Bad Beat by L.M. Bennett 🌈 Idol Moves by K.T. Salvo

❤️ Plot Twist by Erin La Rosa 🧡 In the Pines by Mariah Stillbrook 💛 The Crimson Fortress (The Ivory Key #2) by Akshaya Raman 💚 Only She Came Back by Margot Harrison 💙 Megumi & Tsugumi, Vol. 4 by Mitsuru Si 💜 Pritty by Keith F. Miller Jr. ❤️ Just Lizzie by Karen Wilfrid 🧡 An Atlas to Forever by Krystina Rivers 💛 Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun by Bailey Bridgewater 💙 Bait and Witch by Clifford Mae Henderson 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 🌈 Day by Michael Cunningham

❤️ Livingston Girls by Briana Morgan 🧡 Delay of the Game by Ari Baran 💛 The Nanny with the Nice List by K. Sterling 💚 A Talent Ignited by Suzanne Lenoir 💙 A Kiss of the Siren’s Song by E.A.M. Trofimenkoff 💜 Rivals for Love by Ali Vali ❤️ Whiskey & Wine by Kelly Fireside, Tana Fireside 🧡 Buried Secrets by Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis 💙 Living for You by Jenny Frame 💜 Death on the Water by CJ Birch 🌈 Merciless Waters by Rae Knowles

❤️ Vicarious by Chloe Spencer 🧡 Sapling’s Depths by Spencer Rose 💛 That French Summer by Sienna Waters 💚 System Overload by Saxon James 💙 King of Death by Lily Mayne 💜 Warts and All by Ashley Bennett ❤️ Principle Decisions by Thea Belmont 🧡 The Best Mistake by Emily O’Beirne 💛 Sugar and Ice by Eule Grey 💙 Until The Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson 💜 Splinter : A Diverse Sleepy Hollow Retelling by Jasper Hyde 🌈 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin

❤️ The Queer Girl is Going to be Okay by Dale Walls 🧡 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black 💛 Leverage by E.J. Noyes 💚 Alice Sadie Celine by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright 💙 Godly Heathens by H.E. Edgmon 💜 Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher ❤️ To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn 🧡 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💛 For Never & Always by Helena Greer 💙 A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sally Hawley 💜 Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù 🌈 A Carol for Karol by Ann Roberts

[peterlorres21stcentury]

Peter made a lot of movies 🎦

This list is as much a resource for me as it is for all Peter Lorre fans! I'm reorganizing my physical media collection and curating all the PL films in particular, but I realized that my Internet Archive collection is incomplete. If you don't see a link to a particular film, it's because:

Titles in red mean that I DO NOT own either a physical or a high quality digital copy of this film.

Titles in blue mean that I DO own a physical or high quality digital copy, but I have not yet uploaded it out of plain forgetfulness.

I'll be working to upload as much as I can in the next few months. If you happen to have a link to a high-quality copy of any of the movies in red on this list, please let me know!

You may share this list widely, but remember some of these films are under an assumed name, hiding from the copyright gremlins. Shh. ;)

M (1931)

Bomben Auf Monte Carlo (1931)

Die Koffer Des Herrn O. F. (1931)

Der weiße Dämon (1932)

Fünf von der Jazzband (1932)

Schuß im Morgengrauen (1932)

Stupéfiants (1932)

F.P.1 Antwortet Nicht (1932)

M (English dub) (1932)

Unsichtbare Gegner (1932)

Du haut en bas (1933)

Les requins du pétrole (1933)

Was Frauen träumen (1933)

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

Crime And Punishment (1935)

Mad Love (1935)

Crack Up (1936)

Secret Agent (1936)

Lancer Spy (1937)

Nancy Steele Is Missing! (1937)

Thank You, Mr. Moto (1937)

Think Fast, Mr Moto (1937)

I'll Give a Million (1938)

Mr. Moto's Gamble (1938)

Mr. Moto's Last Warning (1938)

Mr. Moto Takes A Chance (1938)

Mysterious Mr. Moto (1938)

Mr. Moto in Danger Island (1939)

Mr. Moto Takes A Vacation (1939)

Island of Doomed Men (1940)

I Was An Adventuress (1940)

Strange Cargo (1940)

Stranger on the Third Floor (1940)

You'll Find Out (1940)

Mr. District Attorney (1940)

The Face Behind The Mask (1941)

The Maltese Falcon (1941)

They Met in Bombay (1941)

All Through the Night (1942)

Casablanca (1942)

The Boogie Man Will Get You (1942)

Invisible Agent (1942)

Background to Danger (1943)

The Constant Nymph (1943)

The Cross of Lorraine (1943)

Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)

Hollywood Canteen (1944)

Passage to Marseille (1944)

The Conspirators (1944)

The Mask of Dimitrios (1944)

Confidential Agent (1945)

Hotel Berlin (1945)

Black Angel (1946)

The Beast With Five Fingers (1946)

Three Strangers (1946)

The Chase (1946)

The Verdict (1946)

My Favorite Brunette (1947)

Casbah (1948)

Rope Of Sand (1949)

Double Confession (1950)

Quicksand (1950)

Der Verlorene (1951)

Beat the Devil (1953)

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954)

Around the World in 80 Days (1956)

Congo Crossing (1956)

Meet Me In Las Vegas (1956)

Hell Ship Mutiny (1957)

Silk Stockings (1957)

The Buster Keaton Story (1957)

The Sad Sack (1957)

The Story of Mankind (1957)

The Big Circus (1957)

Scent Of Mystery (1960)

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961)

Five Weeks in a Balloon (1957)

Tales of Terror (1962)

The Comedy Of Terrors (1963)

The Raven (1963)

Muscle Beach Party (1964)

The Patsy (1964)

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The Unsolved Killing of Georgette Bauerdorf

Georgette Bauerdorf was a young socialite with a grand future—until 1944, when her life was cut short in the dead of the night. Born to an oil tycoon in New York City in 1924, Georgette lived a life of privilege. She and her older sister attended a convent school on Long Island, where they were trained in goodness and propriety. When the girls’ mother died in 1935, the Bauerdorf siblings and their father moved to California, where Georgette was once again enrolled in a school that befit her place in society—alumnae of the Westlake School for Girls in Los Angeles included Shirley Temple and Myrna Loy.

Upon graduation in 1941, Georgette moved to West Hollywood to pursue an acting career. By the age of 20, she found work at the Los Angeles Times in the Women’s Service Bureau and at the Hollywood Canteen—a dining and dancing club that catered to young men in uniform. Georgette called El Palacia her home, a grand Spanish-style house that played host to numerous celebrities. Her evenings were filled with nights out on the town; she was courted often and enjoyed the attention of her many suitors. 

Exactly what happened on the night of October 11, 1944 remains a mystery. It was a Wednesday; Georgette was at the Canteen, where her role as a Junior Hostess meant she danced with and entertained the servicemen on layover in Los Angeles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that night. At the end of her shift, she climbed into her sister’s Pontiac coupe and drove home. At 11:00 a.m. that following morning, Georgette’s maid and a janitor arrived to clean her apartment. They were met with an unlocked front door. The cleaners entered and found Georgette’s lifeless body face down in her bathtub, the water still running.

She was wearing the top part of a pajama set. Her hair floated in the water. When police surveyed the scene, they found little evidence of a struggle—though the coroner later confirmed the bruises on Georgette’s body suggested she put up a fight before her death. A partially unscrewed light bulb outside her front door led investigators to believe that her killer had hidden in the darkness, perhaps even entering the apartment before Georgette arrived, lying in wait to make a move.

Police assembled a rough timeline of Georgette’s final moments: They believe she came home late, ate a snack in her kitchen, and was then killed by someone who may or may not have been a stranger. A downstairs neighbor heard screaming at about 2:30 a.m., along with shouts of “Stop! You’re killing me!” The neighbor assumed it was a domestic dispute and returned to sleep. The janitor himself claimed he heard the sounds of high-heeled footsteps from Georgette’s apartment, and then a crash—as if something had been dropped—yet he couldn’t confirm if there had been a second person in her apartment. Whatever occurred, Georgette’s last moments were certainly a desperate attempt to save her own life.

In the days following the murder, police received a letter from a Sergeant Gordon Aadland. Aadland claimed that a woman matching Georgette’s description gave him a lift through Hollywood on the night of October 11. In the letter, he described the woman as appearing quite nervous, though he would downplay this claim in later years. The killer, meanwhile, vanished into the night after the slaying, driving off in Georgette’s car. The vehicle was found some distance away, abandoned and out of gas. It was the last trace of the killer in a case that quickly went cold. Georgette 

Some speculators associate Georgette’s death with that of Elizabeth Short, a.k.a. the Black Dahlia, claiming that the same man murdered the two Hollywood hopefuls. Implicated in this theory is a tall individual with a limp named Jack Anderson Wilson, who plays a part—although peripherally—in both stories. The murder remains a mystery to this day. Seventy years from that fateful night, there’s little chance that Georgette’s death will ever be solved.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

The Unsolved Killing of Georgette Bauerdorf

Georgette Bauerdorf was a young socialite with a grand future—until 1944, when her life was cut short in the dead of the night. Born to an oil tycoon in New York City in 1924, Georgette lived a life of privilege. She and her older sister attended a convent school on Long Island, where they were trained in goodness and propriety. When the girls’ mother died in 1935, the Bauerdorf siblings and their father moved to California, where Georgette was once again enrolled in a school that befit her place in society—alumnae of the Westlake School for Girls in Los Angeles included Shirley Temple and Myrna Loy.

Upon graduation in 1941, Georgette moved to West Hollywood to pursue an acting career. By the age of 20, she found work at the Los Angeles Times in the Women’s Service Bureau and at the Hollywood Canteen—a dining and dancing club that catered to young men in uniform. Georgette called El Palacia her home, a grand Spanish-style house that played host to numerous celebrities. Her evenings were filled with nights out on the town; she was courted often and enjoyed the attention of her many suitors. 

Exactly what happened on the night of October 11, 1944 remains a mystery. It was a Wednesday; Georgette was at the Canteen, where her role as a Junior Hostess meant she danced with and entertained the servicemen on layover in Los Angeles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that night. At the end of her shift, she climbed into her sister’s Pontiac coupe and drove home. At 11:00 a.m. that following morning, Georgette’s maid and a janitor arrived to clean her apartment. They were met with an unlocked front door. The cleaners entered and found Georgette’s lifeless body face down in her bathtub, the water still running.

She was wearing the top part of a pajama set. Her hair floated in the water. When police surveyed the scene, they found little evidence of a struggle—though the coroner later confirmed the bruises on Georgette’s body suggested she put up a fight before her death. A partially unscrewed light bulb outside her front door led investigators to believe that her killer had hidden in the darkness, perhaps even entering the apartment before Georgette arrived, lying in wait to make a move.

Police assembled a rough timeline of Georgette’s final moments: They believe she came home late, ate a snack in her kitchen, and was then killed by someone who may or may not have been a stranger. A downstairs neighbor heard screaming at about 2:30 a.m., along with shouts of “Stop! You’re killing me!” The neighbor assumed it was a domestic dispute and returned to sleep. The janitor himself claimed he heard the sounds of high-heeled footsteps from Georgette’s apartment, and then a crash—as if something had been dropped—yet he couldn’t confirm if there had been a second person in her apartment. Whatever occurred, Georgette’s last moments were certainly a desperate attempt to save her own life.

In the days following the murder, police received a letter from a Sergeant Gordon Aadland. Aadland claimed that a woman matching Georgette’s description gave him a lift through Hollywood on the night of October 11. In the letter, he described the woman as appearing quite nervous, though he would downplay this claim in later years. The killer, meanwhile, vanished into the night after the slaying, driving off in Georgette’s car. The vehicle was found some distance away, abandoned and out of gas. It was the last trace of the killer in a case that quickly went cold. Georgette 

Some speculators associate Georgette’s death with that of Elizabeth Short, a.k.a. the Black Dahlia, claiming that the same man murdered the two Hollywood hopefuls. Implicated in this theory is a tall individual with a limp named Jack Anderson Wilson, who plays a part—although peripherally—in both stories. The murder remains a mystery to this day. Seventy years from that fateful night, there’s little chance that Georgette’s death will ever be solved.

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Thank Your Lucky Stars

During World War II, most of the major studios produced all-star musicals, usually built around some kind of benefit performance, to raise money for the war effort. David Butler’s THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS (1943, TCM) was the first of two such films Warner Bros. made to support the Hollywood Canteen, which is natural as it was founded by two of their biggest stars, Bette Davis and John Garfield.  Early on, aspiring composer Joan Leslie says of a makeshift community of show-biz hopefuls, “It’s either very quaint or very corny.” I wasn’t feeling well last night, so I leaned toward the former as a cure for what ailed me. The plot is negligible. Producer Edward Everett Horton and composer S.Z. Sakall want to do a benefit with Dinah Shore, but since she works for Eddie Cantor, they can’t find a way to get her without letting him take over the show. Meanwhile, aspiring singer Dennis Morgan tries to get into the show with help from Leslie and an actor who can’t get work because he looks too much like Cantor. Yes, it’s Cantor in a double role, though the joke is that Cantor as Cantor plays a nightmarish egomaniac while his double is more like Cantor’s real image. Arthur Schwartz and Frank Loesser wrote some catchy upbeat songs — including the title number, impeccably sung by Shore, and Davis’ “They’re Either Too Young or Too Old” — and some soupy ballads. Part of the film’s charm is seeing performers not noted for musical skills sing and dance, with special honors to Garfield for doing a version of “Blues in the Night” that spoofs his screen image. Choreographer Leroy Prinze deserves a lot of credit for coming up with a dancing style to suit Errol Flynn’s image, throwing Davis into a jitterbug number, turning Olivia de Havilland (dubbed) and Ida Lupino into bobbysoxers and staging a bang-up number headed by Hattie McDaniel, who should have done more musicals. Watch closely and you’ll catch Ruth Donnelly as a surgical nurse, Henry Armetta as a barber, Frank Faylen as a sailor, Mike Mazurki as Cantor’s trainer, Mary Treen as an autograph hound and Butler and producer Mark Hellinger as themselves. As icing on the cake, you get to see Spike Jones and his City Slickers do “Otchi Chornya.”

[qu-film-history-to-1968]

Wartime Portrayals

The wartime film, Stage Door Canteen, made in nineteen forty three is a romance-comedy-musical to bring together troops and promote a healthy homefront attitude for soldiers. The main focus of the film is soldiers within the world of the film with some of the largest stars and entertainment professionals of the time in a bar while they are serenaded, performed for, and really encouraged in their wartime efforts by the likes of Ed Wynn, Tallulah Bankhead, Katharine Hepburn, Ethel Murman, and many other famous actors and actresses in the prime of their time in the entertainment industry. This film goes on to encourage soldiers to keep their heads up while times may be troubling, and the social representation of the characters are all very pro-American, upbeat, and stereotypical in the sense of their conduct, proving their acting to evoke more of a positive behavior. Lots of the talk that comes from the soldiers is based around their love and lust for women, as it is well known that soldiers while away during service miss the company of women. This propaganda would go to hold up the women's service training that I mentioned in my last tumblr post about women in the service. This is shown through the film in a less than equality driven way in their speech and talk of women as more pleasures than people, as soldiers order to find two women of their preferred height and hair color to ‘have’ for the night. Lots of the wartime humor also stands up in jokes throughout military service. One of the actors stood on stage and gathered the crowd to perform a routine that poked fun at the orders, and stance of a daily soldier during the daytime - things that soldiers in the audience would find familiar and funny. “Order! One beer.”. This was one of the jokes in the stand-up routine. The scene takes place in New York city which is and was still one of the entertainment capitals of the world, and is made to be a film that encompasses true American soldiers’ value, honor, and conduct in a celebratory tone. One quote from the reading that can describe this film is from an article by Clayton R. Koppes and Gregory D. Black entitled, Hollywood Goes to War: How Politics, Profits, and Propaganda Shaped World War II Movies: “Hollywood’s involvement in influencing American and worldwide public opinion [goes as follows]. Readers will need to go elsewhere to explore the dominant role assumed by a clannish immigrant ethnic group in the early founding of Hollywood and its issue of film as a tool, disguised as entertainment” (Black 2). This talks about the role of Hollywood’s ability to shape a culture based off of stereotypes that went along with soldiers, but also shared its entertainment from a varied cultural background. Nonetheless, black soldiers were not represented in this film as all-American due to them being in segregated regiments. This is a historical film for many reasons, but also historical in capturing hollywood’s finest entertainment of the time.

[conradscrime]

The Murder of Georgette Bauerdorf

March 14, 2022

Georgette Bauerdorf was born on May 6, 1924 in New York City, the younger of two daughters born to George and Constance. When Georgette’s mother died in 1935, the family moved to Los Angeles and Georgette had dreamed of being an actress, moving to Hollywood in August of 1944. 

Georgette moved into an apartment at the El Palacio Apartments at 8493 Fountain Avenue in West Hollywood, getting a job as a junior hostess at the Hollywood Canteen. 

On October 11, 1944, Georgette had cashed a check of $175 and purchased an airline ticket to El Paso, Texas for $90. She told friends that she was travelling there to see her soldier boyfriend. Pvt. Jerome M. Brown was the antiaircraft artillery trainee, from Chicago, and was identified as the man Georgette was going to see. 

Jerome later told authorities he had met Georgette at the Hollywood Canteen on June 13, and left a few days after this to go to El Paso. He claimed that they corresponded and had received 6 letters from her over this time period. 

Some reports stated that Georgette had gone directly to her home from the Hollywood Canteen on October 11 around 11:15 pm. Earlier that day she had lunch with her father’s secretary, Mrs. Rose L. Gilbert, and the two of them went shopping together. Rose told authorities that Georgette had been in good spirits. 

After this, Georgette had gone to a local club called the Paladium and left there around 2 am, picking up a hitchhiker Army sergeant named Gordon Aadland. Georgette apparently told Gordon that she needed to hurry home as she was waiting for a call from her boyfriend, and was possibly meeting him in Texas. This is believed to be the last time anyone saw Georgette alive. 

On October 12, 1944, a maid and a janitor came into Georgette’s apartment to clean and found her body lying face down in an overflowing bathtub. It was believed that Georgette had been attacked by a man who was waiting for her in the apartment. A sheriff’s Inspector, William Penprase, claimed that an automatic night light over the outside entrance of the apartment had been unscrewed two times, so that it was unable to turn on. It is believed that the attacker stood on a chair to reach the light bulb as it was nearly 8 feet off the ground and fingerprints were found on it. 

Authorities also found an empty string bean can and some melon rinds in the kitchen trash, it is believed that Georgette came home and had a snack before going upstairs to her bedroom. It was determined that she had eaten string beans about an hour before her death. Her jewelry and other valuables had not been stolen, but almost $100 was taken from her purse. There was a large roll of $2 bills and thousands of dollars worth of sterling silver lying in an open trunk. 

There was an Oldsmobile 1936 coupe, registered in Georgette’s sisters name, that was missing. The car was eventually located and there had been a dent in one of the fenders. The damage was recent, and might have been the result of colliding with another car. It was found abandoned on East 25th Street, just off San Pedro Street, Los Angeles, where it appeared to have run out of gas. 

It was also determined that Georgette had put up a fight against her attacker. During the autopsy, abundant bruises and scrapes were on her, and she had been raped. The knuckles on her right hand were smashed and bruised, she had a large bruise on the right side of her head, and another on her abdomen. 

Georgette had been strangled with a piece of bandage material that was stuffed down her throat. Her right thigh showed the bruised imprint of a hand, and fingernail marks that had pierced her skin. 

Authorities believe the attacker either waited downstairs undetected at first, and waited for Georgette to go to her bedroom before attacking, or that they had rung the doorbell after she had retired up to bed. Some believe that it’s possible she met someone at the Hollywood Canteen, who drove her home and later returned to kill her. 

The building was soundproof, though an anonymous neighbour came forward to police and claimed to have been waken up by screams around 2:30 am. He claimed he first heard a scream which made him sit upright in bed, followed by a female voice screaming, “Stop, stop, you’re killing me!” The screaming stopped shortly after, and thinking it may have just been a family argument, the neighbour went back to sleep. 

A date book diary was found in Georgette’s bedroom that had a list of names of servicemen. A sailor was questioned in Long Beach, but was determined to have not had anything to do with the murder. There was a solider who was thought to have been infatuated with Georgette. He apparently had cut in on every dance that Georgette had on the night of her death. 

The solider, named Cpl. Cosmo Volpe, turned himself in days after Georgette’s body was discovered, after reading that the police were looking for a “husky, dark-haired GI.” He was questioned but eliminated after he had proof that he checked into his barracks at 11 pm that night. 

A woman named June Ziegler came forward, as she had been at the canteen with Georgette the night prior to the murder. June told authorities that Georgette began dating a serviceman, who was 6′4″ less than a month before her murder. This serviceman was the friend of another serviceman whose name was written in the diary frequently. June said that Georgette claimed this man was really taken with her, but she was uninterested and stopped going out with him. 

Rose Gilbert, who had lunch with Georgette the day of her murder, said that Georgette never entertained friends alone, but would sometimes ask men to stop in briefly. 

At a coroner’s inquest on October 20, a jury of 9 men found that Georgette’s death was a homicide and wanted a thorough investigation conducted to find her killer. During the hearing, the janitor of the apartment building, Fred Atwood, provided new evidence, saying he heard the sound of woman’s heels clicking back and forth on the floor, followed by a loud crash. He claimed to have been awakened by this noise around midnight on October 11. He recognized the sounds coming from Georgette’s apartment but said she was by herself. 

Georgette’s body was shipped to New York after being released by the coroner’s office on October 15, 1944. She was buried in a Long Island cemetery plot that her family had for generations. 

A close friend of Georgette’s father, William Randolph Hearst, pressured the LAPD to close the investigations as soon as possible, though the reasons for this are unclear. Supposedly this was the case to avoid embarrassment to the Bauerdorf family as Georgette was sexually active and documented all of her romantic relationships in her diary. 

Some authors and investigators have suggested a possible link between Georgette’s murder and the murder of the Black Dahlia, which happened in LA in the 1940′s as well. The theory goes that both murders may have been committed by Dr. George Hodel, as there was some similarities, including Georgette being choked with a medical-grade bandage, and both cases received letters from the “killer” taunting the police. However, there is no real evidence to prove there is a connection between the two cases. 

The murder of Georgette Bauerdorf remains unsolved after 77 years. 

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 31 Part I

Buster tried his darnedest to get her a date for the party. He first suggested John Barrymore, apparently forgetting (or not caring) that Barrymore had once been his greatest rival for her affection. Nelly’s opinion of him hadn’t changed since Tempest; hanging onto the arm of a crude drunk all night was not her idea of a good time. She said no. He next suggested Buster Collier. She’d never met him, but he’d been in so many pictures that she knew his face well, though she couldn’t say what the films had been about. Buster Collier had been going with Constance Talmadge until recently. The break-up wasn’t personal; Buster told her the two were still friends.

“Certainly not, then,” said Nelly. “She’ll want to know who I am, how he met me—no. She’ll know something’s fishy.”

The suggestion of Charlie Chaplin followed. She gave more consideration to it. Charlie was charming and easy to talk to. In the end, he was out of the question given the many rumors about his sexual excesses and questionable behavior with women. She didn’t think it was a wise idea and Buster had to agree. The two were friendly but not pals, and he admitted he didn’t know how far to trust Charlie either. In desperation, he floated the idea of his brother, Jingles.

“Are you kidding?” she said. Buster had told her enough about his family that she’d gotten a pretty good picture of Jingles, who lacked his big brother’s confidence in all areas of life and was a hopeless failure with women. “No one will believe that for a second.”

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” said Buster, sounding annoyed on the other end of the phone.

“Let me ask Bradford. He was my dance partner for Tempest. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go for girls, anyway, so he’d be perfect.”

Nelly didn’t know that her proposition was any better than Buster’s. To his guests, Buster had treated her presence at his party in October as no big curiosity, a matter of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say now to them now, what he’d say if Natalie in particular asked why he’d invited two big nobodies like her and Bradford. Natalie might rightfully wonder why they among hundreds of aspiring actors were there. Buster’s quick mind would probably come up with an explanation that passed muster, but Nelly worried. He’d mentioned once, an offhand comment that was far more significant to her than it was him, that Natalie had fits of jealousy over him. Nelly’s instincts told her that attending the party was a bad idea, that she’d be too much temptation to Buster and he’d give their affair away with a look or a word or, worse still, a tender caress. Regardless, she couldn’t refuse even if she’d wanted to. He’d hinted about a birthday surprise and she couldn’t let him down, not to mention she was dying to know what he’d cooked up. Aside from the tabletop phonograph and occasional record, he’d stuck to his promise not to shower her in gifts and she knew he wasn’t about to present her with something in front of his wife and guests.

Uneasiness gnawing, she directed Bradford to the Villa at dusk on Friday night. He was just as keen as she was to break into pictures, so he’d agreed to drive her to the party and be her date without hesitation, especially after she explained she only wanted to go as friends. He’d gotten a minor role in the newest D.W. Griffith, the picture she’d tried out unsuccessfully for, and was happy to tell her about it while they drove, far less stoic than he’d been with her on previous occasions. His chattiness, she guessed, was due to his eagerness to meet and charm as many stars as possible and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. As Bradford recalled how he’d spoken briefly to Griffith on the set earlier in the week, she wondered, as she’d been wondering lately, about her career path in Hollywood. There were murmurs at the United Artists canteen about a Mary Pickford talkie with Sam Taylor directing, not Shakespeare. It gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe Mr. Taylor had forgotten about directing Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming of the Shrew. On the other, she’d been relegated to the prop house for Lady of the Pavements, the new Griffith. A niggling fear had begun to creep on her, that her much more mundane talents at management and organization were impeding her career as an actress.

As the long white drive of the Villa became visible in the distance, she asked Bradford the question she’d been dreading, knowing he’d have his own questions in turn. “When we get there, would you pretend like we’re going together?” she said.

“Pretend like we’re going together?” said Bradford.

“Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the thin chain-metal handle of her handbag. “Just, you know, hold my hand or put your arm around my waist while we’re there. Dance with me more than the other fellows. Maybe a kiss on the cheek once and awhile, that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll do it if you really want me to, but why?” he said, sounding mystified.

Nelly weighed whether to tell him the truth and decided she didn’t have a choice. “I’m seeing someone who’s going to be there and I don’t want his wife to get suspicious,” she said, being careful with her words.

Bradford chuckled. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you asked me of all people.”

She felt defensive. “You’re the closest I have to a friend, a friend who’s a fellow. I’ve been too busy to get to know very many people. It’ll be no different than if you were acting.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning over to elbow her in a friendly way. “You think I’d miss this? I don’t care what you want me there for, frankly. I’m at your beck and call.”

Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t been aware that she was clenching them. “Thank you,” she said. “I do like you just fine, I just didn’t know who else to invite. You’re the first fellow who came to mind.”

“Relax,” said Bradford again. He continued talking amiably as his Ford crept up the Villa drive. He wanted to know how she knew Buster and she reminded him of her involvement with Steamboat. “When’s that coming out, anyhow?” he said.

“Any day now from what I’m told,” she said, her mind only half on the conversation. Butterflies tickled her abdomen from the inside.

The circle drive with the fountain in the center was ringed with expensive cars, Packards, Rolls Royces, and Lincolns. There was a man leading a woman wrapped in a white fur stole up the steps and into the house. Bradford grinned like a little boy as he drank it all in. He helped her out of the Ford which was dismally out of place, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She reminded herself that she was an actress and could every bit pretend to be a person who belonged to the ranks of the stars. With this in mind, she ascended the steps with her arm hooked in Bradford’s elbow and let him open the door for her. “Thank you darling,” she said, practicing that acting as he took her arm again. She hoped that the figure dressed in the beaded navy-blue dress and standing beyond the vestibule had heard it. Natalie was greeting the guests ahead of them. Seeing her, Nelly felt a little on the faint side. She’d rented her dress at Carmela’s again, this one $25 and less eye-catching. It was sleeveless and of bright purple damask. It had no beading or ruffles, just modest ruching around the waist. She’d accented it with her own glass amethyst pendant necklace and ivory silk stockings. She had wanted to look less noticeable, but the light in the vestibule made the satin threads in the dress dazzle and flash. She’d done a formidable job of keeping worry about her mistake with Buster at bay the past week, but Natalie’s nearness and realness brought it home. Slim though it was, a chance existed that this woman’s husband had made her pregnant. Before Nelly had time to gather her wits about her on this matter, she and Bradford were advancing to greet Natalie.

“How do you do?” said Natalie, and Nelly and Bradford echoed her.

Bradford answered Natalie’s unspoken question. “We work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

Nelly could only manage a desperate smile as she took in all the flesh-and-blood details of Natalie and remembered how Buster had looked in the mirror as he’d thrust himself into her. She wondered if Natalie recognized her from the party last autumn and was relieved at the sound of the front door opening behind them and the excuse to move on from the hostess so she could greet her next guests.

“Holy mackerel,” Bradford said under his breath, as he led her into the foyer and looked around him.

Nelly took stock of who was at the party already. She saw Norma Shearer, Bebe Daniels, Marion Davies, Pickford and Fairbanks, and before her eyes had gotten any further, Buster. Her heart went at a clip at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be upstairs and make a grand entrance as he’d done at the previous party. He was wearing a smart brown suit and his hair was neatly combed, every errant strand in place. He swirled a glass of whiskey and took a sip, talking with Norma Talmadge and a dark-looking man with Spaniard features. “That must be Gilbert Roland,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hmm?” said Bradford.

“Norma Talmadge’s boyfriend. She’s married, but everyone knows she’s seeing Gil Roland,” she said, reciting the gossip she’d heard from Buster.

“You’re back,” said someone cheerfully.

She turned and beamed when she recognized Charlie Chaplin. The sight of him reminded her how fun it was to be among the brightest stars in Hollywood and her discomfort about Natalie eased. “Hello again,” she said. She held out her hand to his extended one and he kissed it, his lips soft and cool on the back of her hand. She giggled, thinking she really would have been in trouble if she’d attended the party with him. “This is Bradford. He’s with me at United Artists.”

“Oh, that’s simply heartbreaking. Don’t tell me you’re taken!” said Charlie, his hand going to his heart.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, leaning her head on Bradford’s shoulder briefly to demonstrate. “I’ll still save a dance for you.”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said, his accent rich and irresistible. “But why haven’t I seen you at United Artists?”

Nelly smiled and squeezed Bradford’s arm. “We’re undiscovered I’m afraid, but D.W. Griffith has his eye on Bradford. They spoke just this week. Me they’re keeping locked up in the prop department right now, but just you wait.”

Charlie winked. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Will you be about next week?”

She could hardly believe it. And she’d been so worried about her career. “Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll catch you when the band starts, hmm?” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He pressed her hand and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Her head whirled. One minute she was worried about Natalie Talmadge finding her out, the next Charlie Chaplin seemed to be promising her some sort of a future in films. And there was a band!

“Drink?” said a butler she didn’t know, stopping in front of them with a tray on which were arranged a number of delectable-looking drinks, all of oranges, deep reds, and yellowish creams.

“Thank you,” she and Bradford said, choosing drinks after a few moments’ consideration. She went for the cream-colored one.

Another butler materialized with hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up one of the bite-sized trifles and popped it in her mouth. She tasted dill and some kind of fish. Bradford sampled one too before returning to his drink. She didn’t recognize the butler. Buster must have hired help for the party. Bradford wound a hand around her shoulder. “Thanks for all this, darling,” he said. The endearment was scripted for anyone within hearing, but he meant the words.

“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. It had the flavor of pineapples, a California taste if there ever was one.

Her eyes roamed over the guests again. She recognized Constance Talmadge, Harold Lloyd, Buster Collier, John Gilbert, and Gloria Swanson. There were many men she didn’t know, some of middling looks, some downright unhandsome; those were the directors and big shots. Her gaze flickered to Buster just as he looked over at her. He gave a small, unsmiling nod and returned to his conversation. A mild pang struck her at the coldness of his acknowledgment, but she was relieved that he was being careful. She and Bradford kept to themselves, smiling and responding in kind whenever a guest nodded and said hello. She missed Louise Brooks and wished she had a girl friend to keep her company.

They were on their second drinks when attendees began to nod at each other and move in the direction of the living room. Exchanging looks, Nelly and Bradford followed. The living room, fully decorated when she’d last seen it five days ago, had been denuded of all furniture. Against the loggia on the southwest wall, a full orchestra was arrange in a suite of chairs. The members held instruments of all sizes and shapes, violins, saxophones great and small, trumpets, clarinets, a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a huge tuba sitting somewhat uneasily in one man’s lap. There were at least two dozen men in the band at Nelly’s quick count, dressed alike in black tuxedos and bow ties. With the furniture and grand piano moved out, the living room was more spacious than ever.

“Why, it’s Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra!” Bradford said into her ear, voice hushed. He nudged her and flicked a finger in the direction of a fat man with a round face standing to the right of the orchestra.

Nelly was dazzled. The realization that one of her favorite bands in the room burst through her like a beam of sunshine. She couldn’t find words for her awe, but clutched for Bradford’s hand and squeezed it. The orchestra was burbling in a tuneless way as violinists tested strings and trumpets and saxophones tried out notes. A kind of restlessness pervaded the scene, musicians keen to begin, partygoers eager to dance. This went on for a few minutes until Buster threaded his way through his guests and stood facing the crowd with his back to the band.

“Nate and I want to thank you for coming tonight,” he began. “It’s an honor and a—” He looked over the crowd for a few moments as though he were thinking about what to say next. “An honor, a pleasure … you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I’d like you to give a hand for this gentleman and his little band here. They’re not very well-known, but if you’ll just, uh, pretend a little I’m sure it’ll make them very happy.” He straightened his tie, took one step forward, and fell on his face. There was laughter. As Buster stood up and brushed himself off, Paul Whiteman took his place. He was even less a man of words than Buster, saying only to the guests, “Thank you very much for having us tonight.” He walked to the left of the musicians and addressed them. “Gentleman …”

Two men assembled at the front of the orchestra near the upright piano. Nelly wondered for a second how they transported it from gig to gig, but forgot the question when Whiteman lifted his baton, held it in the air, and dropped it. The two men and the one at the piano began scatting a capella.

Wot-dot-dot, doh-dot, dot-dot-doh

Wot-dot-dot-dot, dot-dot-doh …

The man at the piano laid his hands on the keys just as one of the singers started in a smooth baritone, “You’ve heard of the Charleston, the Black Bottom.”

“I’ve got a rhythm that’s really got ‘em,” chimed the other singer. “It must be something new.”

“Gonna start it for you,” sang the man at the piano. It goes like, One, there it is.

His companions joined him:

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

At this, the snare sounded a beat and the whole orchestra burst into voice. Bradford grabbed Nelly’s hand and waist and swung her into motion. She yelped with delight. The rhythm was too fast for her to think about whether her feet were doing five steps; she just clung to Bradford and tried to keep up with the foxtrot he was leading her in. Over his shoulder, she could see that all the other dancers were smiling, Marion Davies dancing with Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson paired with John Barrymore. She felt a sudden, uncanny sense of belonging as she and Bradford galloped along. A clarinet soloed, followed by a violin in a high, reedy voice like a grasshopper.

One, there it is,

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

One, got to learn,

One-two, got to learn,

One-two-three, there is not such a lot to learn,

One-two-three-four, aren’t you hot to learn?

One-two-three-four, five steps!

As the singers carried on, it was all Nelly could do to keep her rhythm and her breath. She was panting and laughing when the final note sounded. She and Bradford withdrew from the dancers to get a drink of punch from the bowl on the table in the foyer. As soon as their thirst was quenched, though, she took Bradford’s hand and hurried back into the room. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s set if she could help it.

The orchestra had begun a sweet, wistful melody led by trumpets. She recognized it at once as “Mary,” one of her favorites. Rather than dancing, she stood on the edge of the crowd with Bradford and watched. The trumpets piped and her heart was overfull as she soaked in the music and her surroundings with all of her might. Dancers kicked up their heels in a slower foxtrot as the full orchestra echoed the trumpets’ melody. She could have watched all the beautiful stars before her in their tuxes and brightly colored dresses, but she had eyes only for the orchestra and Whiteman’s graceful conducting. It was a marvel the way he brought different sections of the band to life with just a flick of his baton.

One of the singers stepped forward as a violin finished off the melody. He was perhaps a little taller than Buster, but slightly husky, with ears that stuck out and eyes as blue as a spring sky.

What are you waitin’ for,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

What are you thinkin’ ‘bout,

Who are you thinkin’ ‘bout, Mary?

The bees are buzzin’,

They’re buzzin’ right in my ear,

And they keep on asking,

Hey, what’s the big idea?

He was the one with the smooth baritone like poured honey. All his notes flowed together without a single hitch. She recognized his voice from many of Whiteman’s records.

“He’s incredible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper it in Bradford’s ear. He nodded in return.

Why do you lead me on,

Why do you be so con-trary?

You wouldn’t let my castles

Come tum-tum-tumblin’ down

Think of the things in store,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

The violins concluded the melody and the brass took it up again. Her senses were filled with trumpets and the snare, then the orchestra singing as one voice.

She didn’t notice how spellbound she’d become until applause startled her back to reality. She clapped along with everyone else and the singer gave a bow and a modest smile. Bradford was bending to say something about the music when Nelly felt the cloth of a suit on the bare skin of her left shoulder. She turned to see Buster. He looked ahead, nonchalant, and her heart gave a fond trot.

“How d’ya like your birthday present?” he said quietly, still looking ahead.

“Oh, don’t kid me.” Even as she said it though, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t joking. The band was for her.

Still not looking at her, he gave the slightest of smiles. “Pretty good joke, huh?”

Her eyes welled. “I don’t know whether to kiss or kill you. You’re out of your mind and I don’t know how I’ll ever begin to thank you.” When she looked at him again, he was finally looking back, his brown eyes so affectionate she was in danger of throwing her arms around him in front of all of Hollywood, including his wife.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he said, but his tone was curious, not suspicious.

She wiped the trace of tears from her eyes and turned to Bradford, who by then had noticed their conversation. “This is Bradford,” she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. “Bradford, this is Buster.”

“How d’you do, Mr. Keaton?” said Bradford, extending a hand. He glanced from Buster to her as they shook hands and she saw him connect the dots. Her insides went hot and cold. In hindsight, her casual introduction of Buster was a dead giveaway.

“Where’s Louise?” she said, moving on and trying not to punish herself for her mistake.

“Brooks? Or my sister? Sis is here somewhere. Probably trying to corner Ramon Novarro by the punch bowl.” He removed his cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one out. “Brooks, you know the score. Wife thinks there’s some funny business going on between us and if I invite her to another party I’m dead meat.”

Trying to be friendly or playing an angle, Bradford butted in. “How’s your new picture, Mr. Keaton?”

“Buster,” he said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Going alright I guess. Can’t complain. You in pictures?”

Bradford chattered away about D.W. Griffith and Nelly looked around them briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to their interaction. None of the Talmadges were near. She spotted Natalie and Norma chatting with Douglas Fairbanks across the room. Constance was standing nearer and speaking to a man Nelly didn’t recognize, but her back was turned to them.

“Wanna dance?” said Buster, fingers curving into her elbow.

She gave an anxious glance at Bradford, worried about him overhearing, but remembered he already knew. She said in an undertone, “I don’t think we ought to. Not for a few more songs at least. You should dance with a couple other girls first.”

Buster squeezed the crook of her arm and dropped his hand. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be back.”

Half an hour later, he had taken her advice. The band had played “I’m Coming Virginia,” “Mississippi Mud,” and “Grandma.” Her next two dances had gone to Bradford and she’d sat “Grandma” out. Buster had danced with Constance Talmadge, Bebe Daniels, and Marion Davies. The crowd of guests had gotten louder as more cocktails circulated. Nelly had accepted a third drink, but was tempering herself and had taken only a sip. The blue-eyed singer stepped forward and commanded the crowd’s attention.

“We just added this one to the repertoire. It’s from a musical they’ve got in New York right now called Present Arms. Harry and Al and me, we’ll introduce you to it,” he said in a smooth, affable voice. He smiled, showing white, even teeth and snapped his fingers at the orchestra to cue them, eyes on the audience.

She was so focused on him that she was startled when someone seized the drink from her hand. Buster walked away from her and set her drink on a side table on the periphery of the room. “Come on kid, I’ve waited long enough,” he said, setting his hand on her waist when he returned. The orchestra was in full swing, the brass section taking up a melody that the strings underscored and singing out cheerfully. A clarinet butted in every several measures, rich and mellow. Nelly had danced with Buster a dozen times in her apartment and his bungalow, but as he folded her hand into his, she remembered just their first dance at the party in October. She’d been spooked then about her changing feelings for him and nervous lest Natalie think something was afoot. Now that they were really having an affair, the dread and nervousness were like a thousand pin-pricks to her skin. She was sure it must be obvious that Buster and she were more than simply acquaintances.

Buster led her in a medium-tempo foxtrot, his eyes cast upward, as though dancing with her among all the other women was no big deal. Only his thumb massaging her palm gave him away. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. She tried to pay attention to the dance, the rhythm of her hips and her feet and not the sensation that every person in the room was staring at them and wondering about the girl Buster was dancing with.

He leaned in, his cheek almost resting against hers. “Loosen up,” he said in her ear.

She put her mouth by his ear in turn. “I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

He gave a calm, closed-lipped smile. “Everyone’s too busy getting ossified and cutting a rug to pay us any, baby.”

“I still don’t feel—”

“Hush,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

The brassy trumpet and an oboe bantered for a while before the full orchestra cut back in.

I’m a sentimental sap that’s all

What’s the use of trying not to fall?

I have no will

Aw, you made your kill

‘Cause you took advantage of me

It was the blue-eyed singer again. In the background, the two others crooned softly. Nelly closed her eyes for a beat and watched herself as Natalie might, were she able to peer inside Nelly’s head. Buster. The Villa. The Paul Whiteman Orchestra.

I’m just like an apple on a bough

And you’re gonna shake me down somehow

So what’s the use?

You cooked my goose

‘Cause you took advantage of me

Her purple dress. A room full of stars.

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know

My elbow from my ear

Suffer something awful each time you go,

Much worse when you’re near

Playing billiards in Buster’s game room. Buster enclosing her in his arms on his bed.

Here I am with all my bridges burned

Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned

Buster’s lips and tongue and fingers and hands. His prick.

So lock the door and call me yours

‘Cause you took advantage of me

The shower. The down blanket and the stars sparkling over Beverly Hills. Buster’s body warm against hers.

The brass section sang out again, boisterous, confident, the strings wrapping its melody. Nelly moved her feet, scarcely conscious of the dance. Her head was still planted in the clouds when it ended and Buster’s hands let go. She couldn’t help glance around her, wondering who’d been watching. To her relief, the one person who caught her eye was Bradford, who had just let go of Marion Davies. He kissed Marion’s hand and said something in her ear that made her laugh, then walked back over to Nelly.

“Don’t make me jealous now,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Look who’s talking!” she said, giving him the smile and all the weight of feeling she would have to Buster had she been able.

“Don’t forget your Orange Blossom,” said Buster, pressing it back in her hand. “I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” He turned away and she saw him catch John Gilbert by the arm and demand something that made Gilbert roar with laughter.

“How’d you enjoy your dance with Miss Davies?” said Nelly to Bradford.

“Oh, I expect I’ll be playing the lead in her next picture,” Bradford said, winking to show that his boast wasn’t serious. “How was your dance with Mr. Keaton?”

“He dances well,” she said, playing along.

A cool hand on her arm made her turn. Nelly blanched when she saw who it was.

“Have we met?” said the blonde woman, her smile warm.

“I don’t believe so. You’re Constance Talmadge.”

Constance smiled. She had a small, prim mouth outlined in a rose-colored lipstick. Her hair was waved and golden, her throat sparkling with a sapphire and diamond choker.

One of the singers was singing, “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face …”

“That’s right. And you?” said Constance.

Nelly reminded herself that she could act with the best of them. She put a hand on Bradford’s back. “Bradford and I work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

“I’m in the new D.W. Griffith,” Bradford offered.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Constance, sounding interested. “What’s your role?”

Bradford smiled. “Well I’m just an extra at the moment, but Mr. Griffith said Thursday he’s going to fit me into more scenes. He found out I can play piano and thinks he can use me for a bigger role.”

“I loved you in Breakfast at Sunrise,” Nelly said to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you.” Constance was as friendly as could be, but there was something about her appearance that made Nelly uneasy. “Is this your first time at one of Bus and Nate’s ‘dos?” she asked.

Nelly put on her best casual smile. “My second. I was here last fall.” She didn’t offer to explain how she knew Buster and hoped that Constance wouldn’t inquire. Distantly, she heard the orchestra and saw the bodies around them moving in time to the music.

“Oh, then you’re old hat. Have you tried the crab croquettes?”

Nelly said that she hadn’t. She was wondering where the conversation would go next when Bradford broke in. “Miss Talmadge,” he said, his voice brimming with charm. “Would it be too forward to ask you to dance?”

Constance smiled. Nelly could tell she was genuinely charmed. “Even if it was, I’ll say yes.”

“Wonderful.” He palmed her waist which was clothed in blue silk and chiffon. Glancing at Nelly as he took Constance’s small, white hand in his, he said, “Sorry, darling. Don’t be jealous.”

Nelly could have kissed him. With only one thought in mind, she elbowed her way out of the crowd and to one of the butlers, she helped herself to a minty green drink from his tray. She tossed it back, grabbed an Orange Blossom, and gulped that too. To his credit, the butler was too well-bred to react. She would have explained to him if she could that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy another second of the party without being drunk. The encounter with Constance had brought her jitters to a fever pitch. Nodding her thanks to the butler, she took another Orange Blossom in hand and went to track down the washroom.

The blue-eyed singer’s baritone followed her down the hall.

Birds are singing merrily

The sun is shining peacefully

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

She locked the door behind her and set the drink on the edge of the sink as she relieved herself. Her make-up needed no touching up, and her cheeks were flushed with drink. Buster had engaged the Paul Whiteman Orchestra as a birthday gift to her and she was going to relax if it was the last thing she did. Technically it wasn’t her birthday for a few more hours, but even if they didn’t know it, everyone out there was dancing in honor of Nelly Foster’s twenty-seventh year on earth. She exited the washroom feeling more secure with this thought. Bradford was playing his part perfectly. The Talmadges didn’t suspect anything. It was okay if she loosened up as Buster had urged her to do.

[johngarfieldtribute]

This 1943 musical was essentially a fundraiser for the Hollywood Canteen. The stars broke out of their comfort zones to sing, dance and clown around. They donated their salaries to the Canteen and it was hoped that it would boost morale for those shipping out and the people at home.

The plot is thinly thin thin, but watching the stars hamming it up is fun.

Julie’s song hits first and he throws himself into it. Enjoy him singing “The Blues in the Night”. He doesn’t come back for the finale though. Tough guys gotta blow! Ya know?

Bette Davis is towards the last third but just as committed. Her song is “They’re Either Too Young or Too Old”. She really gets thrown around by her jitterbug partner. Wow! She’s one of the reasons to watch this movie according to this.

Bogie didn’t sing, but he did poke fun of his image before slinking away. All the stars seem to be good sports for a good cause.

Hattie McDaniel and Willie Best are in a big production number singing and dancing to “Ice Cold Katie”.

Olivia “gum snapping” de Havilland, George “zoot suit” Tobias, and Ida “silly not serious” Lupino kick up their heels. Quite an unusual trio. Think they rehearsed? Aw, they’re cute!

Ann Sheridan and Errol Flynn have their spotlights along with the the cast stringing that thin plot along.

Pictured above, Dennis Morgan, Joan Leslie, Eddie Cantor, and Dinah Shore.

TCM page on the movie.

[oldhollywoodfilms]

Here's our TCM picks for the week of Feb. 24, 2021.

1. Hollywood Canteen (1944) at 10 am ET/7 am PT Wednesday, Feb. 24: This all-star musical is an entertaining glimpse into the Hollywood gathering place where WWII soldiers and sailors went to eat, relax, and meet their favorite movie stars. There's lots of great celebrity cameos, including from Canteen co-founders Bette Davis and John Garfield.

2. Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone (1950) at 5:30 pm PT/2:30 pm PT Wednesday, Feb. 24: Celebrate beloved character actor Marjorie Main's 131st birth date with this charming mystery/comedy about a widow and attorney (a great James Whitmore) who team up to solve a murder.

BTW, Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone is followed up by another Main charmer, The Affairs of Martha (1942), at 6:45 pm ET.

3. The Palm Beach Story (1942) at 8 pm ET/5 pm PT Thursday, Feb. 25: This sardonic screwball from writer/director Preston Sturges is a delight from its madcap opening scene to its unexpected (at least if you're watching it for the first time) finale. The highlights include the Quail and Ale Club, Mary Astor as man-hungry Princess Centimillia, and, of course, The Wienie King.

4. A Man for All Seasons (1966) at 3:30 pm ET/12:30 pm PT Saturday, Feb. 27: There's been a resurgence of interest in the Tudors in the last 20 years thanks to soapy TV shows and award-winning novels, but this Oscar-winner about Henry VIII's chief minister (Paul Scofield) is a classic in its own right.

5. Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) at midnight ET/9 pm PT Saturday night/Sunday morning: Director Robert Wise's fantastic heist film blends old Hollywood sensibility with the more avant-garde movies coming from Europe in the '50s (Odds Against Tomorrow was also a major influence on '60s filmmakers like Jean-Pierre Melville). There's great acting from a powerhouse cast that includes Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, Shelley Winters, and Gloria Grahame.

Odds Against Tomorrow will have an encore presentation at 10 am ET Sunday.

[timeless-hollywood-classics]

Joseph Evans Brown (July 28, 1891 – July 6, 1973) was an American actor and comedian, remembered for his amiable screen persona, comic timing, and enormous elastic-mouth smile. He was one of the most popular American comedians in the 1930s and 1940s, with films like A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935), Earthworm Tractors (1936), and Alibi Ike (1935). In his later career Brown starred in Some Like It Hot (1959), as Osgood Fielding III, in which he utters the film's famous punchline "Well, nobody's perfect."

Brown was born on July 28, 1891, in Holgate, Ohio, near Toledo, into a large family of Welsh descent. He spent most of his childhood in Toledo. In 1902, at the age of ten, he joined a troupe of circus tumblers known as the Five Marvelous Ashtons, who toured the country on both the circus and vaudeville circuits. Later he became a professional baseball player. Despite his skill, he declined an opportunity to sign with the New York Yankees to pursue his career as an entertainer. After three seasons he returned to the circus, then went into vaudeville and finally starred on Broadway. He gradually added comedy to his act, and transformed himself into a comedian. He moved to Broadway in the 1920s, first appearing in the musical comedy Jim Jam Jems.

In late 1928, Brown began making films, starting the next year with Warner Brothers. He quickly became a favorite with child audiences, and shot to stardom after appearing in the first all-color all-talking musical comedy On with the Show (1929). He starred in a number of lavish Technicolor musical comedies, including Sally (1929), Hold Everything (1930), Song of the West (1930), and Going Wild (1930). By 1931, Brown had become such a star that his name was billed above the title in the films in which he appeared.

He appeared in Fireman, Save My Child (1932), a comedy in which he played a member of the St. Louis Cardinals, and in Elmer, the Great (1933) with Patricia Ellis and Claire Dodd and Alibi Ike (1935) with Olivia de Havilland, in both of which he portrayed ballplayers with the Chicago Cubs.

In 1933 he starred in Son of a Sailor with Jean Muir and Thelma Todd. In 1934, Brown starred in A Very Honorable Guy with Alice White and Robert Barrat, in The Circus Clown again with Patricia Ellis and with Dorothy Burgess, and with Maxine Doyle in Six-Day Bike Rider.

Brown was one of the few vaudeville comedians to appear in a Shakespeare film; he played Francis Flute in the Max Reinhardt/William Dieterle film version of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935) and was highly praised for his performance. He starred in Polo Joe (1936) with Carol Hughes and Richard "Skeets" Gallagher, and in Sons o' Guns. In 1933 and 1936, he became one of the top 10 earners in films.

He left Warner Brothers to work for producer David L. Loew, starring in When's Your Birthday? (1937). In 1938, he starred in The Gladiator, a loose adaptation of Philip Gordon Wylie's 1930 novel Gladiator that influenced the creation of Superman. He gradually switched to making "B" pictures.

In 1939, Brown testified before the House Immigration Committee in support of a bill that would allow 20,000 German-Jewish refugee children into the U.S. He later adopted two refugee children.

At age 50 when the U.S. entered World War II, Brown was too old to enlist. Both of his biological sons served in the military during the war. In 1942, Captain Don E. Brown, was killed when his Douglas A-20 Havoc crashed near Palm Springs, California.

Even before the USO was organized, Brown spent a great deal of time traveling, at his own expense, to entertain troops in the South Pacific, including Guadalcanal, New Zealand and Australia, as well as the Caribbean and Alaska. He was the first to tour in this way and before Bob Hope made similar journeys. Brown also spent many nights working and meeting servicemen at the Hollywood Canteen. He wrote of his experiences entertaining the troops in his book Your Kids and Mine. On his return to the U.S., Brown brought sacks of letters, making sure they were delivered by the Post Office. He gave shows in all weather conditions, many in hospitals, sometimes doing his entire show for a single dying soldier. He signed autographs for everyone. For his services to morale, Brown became one of only two civilians to be awarded the Bronze Star during World War II.

His concern for the troops continued into the Korean War, as evidenced by a newsreel featuring his appeal for blood donations to aid the U.S. and UN troops there that was featured in the season 4 episode of M*A*S*H titled "Deluge".[5]

In 1948, he was awarded a Special Tony Award for his work in the touring company of Harvey.[1][6]

He had a cameo appearance in Around the World in 80 Days (1956), as the Fort Kearney stationmaster talking to Fogg (David Niven) and his entourage in a small town in Nebraska. In the similarly epic film It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963), he had a cameo as a union official giving a speech at a construction site in the climactic scene. On television, he was the mystery guest on What's My Line? during the episode on January 11, 1953.

His best known postwar role was that of aging millionaire Osgood Fielding III in Billy Wilder's 1959 comedy Some Like It Hot. Fielding falls for Daphne (Jerry), played by Jack Lemmon in drag; at the end of the film, Lemmon takes off his wig and reveals to Brown that he is a man, to which Brown responds "Well, nobody's perfect", one of the more celebrated punchlines in film.

Another of his notable postwar roles was that of Cap'n Andy Hawks in MGM's 1951 remake of Show Boat, a role that he reprised onstage in the 1961 New York City Center revival of the musical and on tour. Brown performed several dance routines in the film, and famed choreographer Gower Champion appeared along with first wife Marge. Brown's final film appearance was in The Comedy of Terrors (1964).

Brown was a sports enthusiast, both in film and personally. Some of his best films were the "baseball trilogy" which consisted of Fireman, Save My Child (1932), Elmer, the Great (1933) and Alibi Ike (1935). He was a television and radio broadcaster for the New York Yankees in 1953. His son Joe L. Brown became the general manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates for more than 20 years. Brown spent Ty Cobb's last days with him, discussing his life.

Brown's sports enthusiasm also led to him becoming the first president of PONY Baseball and Softball (at the time named Pony League) when the organization was incorporated in 1953. He continued in the post until late 1964, when he retired. Later he traveled additional thousands of miles telling the story of PONY League, hoping to interest adults in organizing baseball programs for young people. He was a fan of thoroughbred horse racing, a regular at the racetracks in Del Mar and Santa Anita.

Brown was caricatured in the Disney cartoons Mickey's Gala Premiere (1933), Mother Goose Goes Hollywood (1938), and The Autograph Hound (1939); all contain a scene in which he is seen laughing so loud that his mouth opens extremely wide. According to the official biography Daws Butler: Characters Actor, Daws Butler used Joe E. Brown as inspiration for the voices of two Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters: Lippy the Lion (1962) and Peter Potamus (1963–1966).

He also starred in his own comic strip in the British comic Film Fun between 1933 and 1953

Brown married Kathryn Francis McGraw in 1915. The marriage lasted until his death in 1973. The couple had four children: two sons, Don Evan Brown (December 25, 1916 – October 8, 1942; Captain in the United States Army Air Force, who was killed in the crash of an A-20B Havoc bomber while serving as a ferry pilot)[8] and Joe LeRoy "Joe L." Brown (September 1, 1918 – August 15, 2010), and two daughters, Mary Katherine Ann (b. 1930) and Kathryn Francis (b. 1934). Both daughters were adopted as infants.

Joe L. Brown shared his father's love of baseball, serving as general manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates from 1955 to 1976, and briefly in 1985, also building the 1960 and 1971 World Series champions. Brown's '71 Pirates featured baseball's first all-black starting nine.

Brown began having heart problems in 1968 after suffering a severe heart attack, and underwent cardiac surgery. He died from arteriosclerosis on July 6, 1973 at his home in Brentwood, California, three weeks before his 82nd birthday. He is interred at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California.

For his contributions to the film industry, Brown was inducted into the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1960 with a motion pictures star located at 1680 Vine Street.

In 1961, Bowling Green State University renamed the theatre in which Brown appeared in Harvey in the 1950s as the Joe E. Brown Theatre. It was closed in 2011.

Holgate, Ohio, his birthplace, has a street named Joe E. Brown Avenue. Toledo, Ohio has a city park named Joe E. Brown Park at 150 West Oakland Street.

Rose Naftalin's popular 1975 cookbook includes a cookie named the Joe E. Brown.[14][15] Brown was a frequent customer of Naftalin's Toledo restaurant.

Flatrock Brewing Company in Napoleon, Ohio offers several brown ales such as Joe E. Coffee And Vanilla Bean Brown Ale, Joe E. Brown Hazelnut, Chocolate Peanut Butter Joe E. Brown, Joe E Brown Chocolate Pumpkin, and Joe E. (Brown Ale).

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💙💜💖 Bi Books Out November 2023

💙💜💖 Happy Sunday, my badass bookish bats!

💖💜💙 Do you know what we could always use a little more of? Bi books! Here are a few coming out in November that would make fabulous additions to your never-ending TBR! If you can't tell, I'm a week behind in posts. Oops! You can find the full list of books on my Tumblr. Link in bio. Happy reading!

💙 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon @mel.e.lemon 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 💖 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black @wordsofrablack

💙 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin @feliciadavinwrites 💜 Abbott: 1979 by Saladin Ahmed @saladin__ahmed and Sami Kivelä @(Illustrator) 💖 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry @SoLillianBarry

💙 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey @deannagreyy 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske @freyamarske 💖 Hummingbird by Frances Thompson @francesmthompson

💙 Vicarious by Chloe Spencer @heyitschloespencer 💜 Until the Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson @mc.johnson.author 💖 Tonight, I Burn (Thorn Witch #1) by Katharine J. Adams @katharinejadams

💙 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James @the_sarahjames 💜 Delay of Game by Ari Baran @aribaranwrites 💖 Chaos Terminal by Mur Lafferty @mightymur2

💙 Dark Heir: Dark Rise 2 by C. S. Pacat @c.s.pacat 💜 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull @cadwellturnbull 💖 To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn @katherinequinnwrites

💙 Hunt on Dark Waters by Katee Robert @katee_robert 💜 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis @jjarvisthefish 💖 One Night in Hartswood by Emma Denny @emmadennywrites

[yellsatyouinrogerwaters]

End Of The Night - Rick Wright

 A/N: I'm sorry it took so long, I took a little break.

L E N G T H: 1,582 words W A R N I N G: Nothing really. I N S P I R A T I O N: End of the Night - The Doors

Y O U R    P O V

 The phone rang, causing me to wake from my slumber. I groaned from the sudden noise and lifted myself from my bed, trudging my way to the phone. Pulling the receiver out of its slot, I press the receiver's speaker on my ear. 

"Hello..?," I mumbled.

"[y/n]? Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry if I did,"

"Its fine, Rick. No worries." 

"Alright. Anyways, would you like to come with the band and me on a trip to the forest for a few days? Possible a week for that matter," he asked with his gentle tone. Tittering, I nodded. 

"I'll tag along, I'll bring tons of snacks and essentials," I grinned and let out a little humming laugh. 

"Alrighty! We'll all meet at the studio at 3 and head on to the forests."

"Okay, see you soon," I hung up the phone and dashed up the stairs. I opened the handles on my closet doors and walked into it. Digging through sections of the closet, I found a camping backpack that I kept since I was younger just in case I wanted to go camping again, but this time as an adult. Grabbing it, I opened it up and found some memorabilia, then set it down on a shelf across from me.

 After an hour, my bag was finally packed with everything I needed. Before walking downstairs with the bag, I grabbed my towel. Once downstairs, I plopped the bag down on one of the cushions of the couch and paced to my bathroom. 

After a few minutes, I came out of the shower and changed into comfortable, but casual clothing. As I walked back to the living room again, I dried hair and turned on the T.V. to see if anything was interesting. After a few minutes, I found a Hollywood drama that I couldn't take my eyes off. 

T I M E  S K I P 

R I C K ' S   P O V 

 I arrived quite early at the studio and sat outside on the steps. Taking a deep breath and sigh, I took a book out of a small pile that I packed and slid my finger done the pages, letting the book open up by itself. I began to read and felt the activation of my imagination. 

About 30 minutes go by and I was already one third into the book,

"Hey, Rick!" A voice called, I looked up and saw that it was Nick. I placed my bookmark into its new spot in the book and shut the book, 

"Hello, Nick."

"What'd you pack for the trip?" Nick asked. 

"Not much actually. Just some food, a journal, books, and of course a tent," I elaborated.

It didn't take long until David and Roger arrived. We all stuffed our stuff into the back of the van that's owned by our manager. He would let us borrow it whenever we needed it. 

I gazed down at my wrist and saw what time it was, 3:16. I sighed to myself and fiddled with my fingers. 

 "Rick, is [y/n] coming? We have to get on the road soon before it gets dark," David explained. 

"She's running a bit late, I kno-". The sound of panting became audible and nearby, it caught my ear. I faced the opposite way from the band and traipsed my way over to the gate. Peaking my head slightly over the gate, I saw [y/n] running towards the gate. I swung the door open for her to come in. Once she made it in, she gasped for air with her head facing the ground and her hands on her knees; I took out a canteen from my bag and handed it to her. 

"[y/n], were you running the entire trip here?" she flung her head back and nodded as she drunk from the canteen. Once finished, she handed it back to me and I rubbed her back as she began to struggled less and less with her breathing. 

"Are you okay now?", I asked. 

"Yes, thank you for the refreshment," she showed me a grateful smile. Nick clapped his hand, grabbing the attention of all of us, "Alright, now that we're all here, it's time to get on the road, I'll drive this time." 

"Let me get your bag, [y/n]" I said and got behind her and, in one fluid motion, slid off her bag and placed it with the other bags. 

We all got into the car; Nick in the driver's seat with David seated next to him, Roger having the middle row section to himself, and [y/n] and I in the last row chatting about whatever came to our heads. 

Nick started up the engine and got out of the parking lot in a matter of seconds and we were on way to the forest. 

T I M E  S K I P 

 Nick parked the van right outside of the campsite and turned off the engine. We all filed out of the car and got our stuff out. Heading off to the entrance station, we all looked at our surroundings and soaked up the beauty of it, but I focused most of my gaze on [y/n]. She turned her head and made slight eye contact with me, causing her to display her pearly whites at me. I smiled back and tucked back a strand of my hair, 

"How do you feel about this trip?"

"I'm excited, I finally get to read some books that I haven't been able to read and be outside, which doesn't happen as often as I want it to," she explained. I paid attention to every detail I could, the way she talked, her body language, anything really.  

Arriving at the campsite, we set our things down and set up. I opened the bag that carried the tent and let everything spill out. Spreading everything into its layout and grabbing the tiny hammer that came with the tent, I hammered down each peg deep enough for the tent to be held up steadily. Once I was finished, the tent stood up tall.

"Holy crap, Rick. Where did you get that giant tent?" 

"My father gave it to me, I never thought I would use it, yet here we are," I let out a chuckle. 

"Hmm.." [y/n] said, stepping closer to the tent, "seems like it could fit a whole family." We all laughed, but I developed a faint blush on my cheeks when [y/n] said 'family.'

 Y O U R   P O V 

 The sky began to darken as the sun slowly went to sleep. We all gathered in a circle and put a battery-operated lantern in the center, it shone enough to go beyond the circumference of the circle we've made. 

"Are we telling horror stories?" Roger chuckled. 

"No, we're singing songs and  doing "What am I supposed to do, grab two sticks and beat the ground with them?" Nick questioned.

"That doesn't sound bad actually," I laughed and patted Nick on the back. 

David picked up his acoustic guitar and began to strum the strings. 

"What are we supposed to sing about?" Rick asked.

"Anything," David reassured. Rick cleared his throat and began to sing. It was quite rare for Rick, let alone speak. We were are speechless and wonder-struck. David was slowly strumming slowly but softly, Rick's gentle tone merged perfectly with David's playing. 

"If the sun refused to shine"

"I would still be loving you"

"When mountains crumble to the sea"

"There will still be you and me."

We realized that it was Thank You by Led Zeppelin. Once Rick finished, we all clapped immensely, making him feel a bit shy.  

After hours of singing, joking, and telling stories, we decided to take a little break and each go to our respected tents. I sat in my tent and read The Shining by Stephen King. Being intrigued by the book, I kept my eyes focused on the pages and blocked out my surroundings until I heard a voice, 

"[y/n]," I turned my head to the direction of where the voice was coming from. Slowly getting up, I set my book down on its pages and made my way to the sealing of the tent, unzipping it. Behind the sealing was Rick. He looked a bit worried, 

"Oh, hey Rick. What's up?" I asked in a concerned tone.

"May I come in?" I responded with a nod and he walked with caution. We both walked and sat adjacent to each other. 

"Alright, Rick, what brings you here today?" I joked, chortling. 

"I wanted to open up about something that has been bothering me for a while now," he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Okay, what is it? I promise I would judge you," I reassured him. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. He looked at his hands and fidgeted with them as he mustered the confidence to say his confession.

"I.. I think I've fallen for you and when I sang that song... it was for you" I smiled a little and nodded my head at him. 

"I've fallen for you too, Rick." 

He grinned at me and I hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "I love you, [y/n]." 

Without leaving his embrace, I placed my lips on his and kissed him with all the love I could give.

"I love you too, Rick."

[aspidities]

don't know if you like podcasts but the new post on patreon reminds me of you must remember this by karina longsworth which is all about old hollywood secrets if you don't know about it already! she did a whole ep on the hollywood canteen

You asked this last week but I was taking a social media break!

First of all, YES I like podcasts (MFM, Lore, 2 Dope Queens, Radiolab, TANIS, etc) and yes I know and love You Must Remember This because my mother and I are OBSESSED with it. Mom was in LA/SF/Santa Barbara during the Manson cult time and we listened to Karina’s whole series on it while driving back and forth to fix up the beach cottage one summer. I’ve listened to all the episodes since then, and yes, the entire premise of ‘it happened one night’ came from the episodes about Bette Davis and the Hollywood Canteen, as well as some images of blonde ww2 pilots in leather jackets. Good eye! Or....good ear? Either way, you have great taste!

But also! My grandmother was a costume girl for MGM in the 30s, before she met my grandfather, and because she was a rebellious little shit, she’d sneak out to smoke cigarettes with the black guys who played live band gigs and listen to their stories about MGM executives and starlets. (‘Jazz cigarattes’ were also shared but she didn’t tell me that story until after I graduated.) It was always great gossip. Who Clark Gable was banging, who pissed off Joan Crawford this week, etc. So she kept in touch with the band, and asked to know about good celebrity events. One of these was where she met my grandfather—it was at a dance arranged off-base for servicemen—one of the precursor events that led to the Canteen, which opened in 1942. So you could say my entire existence is owed to silver screen-era Hollywood! And my entire gay existence is owed to Katherine Hepburn and Marlene Dietrich, because of obvious reasons.

If anyone is bored this week and is the slightest bit interested in scandal and sensation, as well as sex, murder and intrigue, you need to download You Must Remember This and get your Longworth on. She will save you, she will educate you, and you will all want to write historical aus, so get hopping.

[tcm]

An Interview with Marsha Hunt

“There’s actually no other way I can introduce this woman than saying that I am going to share the stage with the most exemplary human being I have ever met in my life.” That was how Eddie Muller introduced 100-year-old Marsha Hunt before a screening of one of her favorite movies, NONE SHALL ESCAPE (1944), at the TCM Classic Film Festival in 2018.

The affable centenarian, who made her film debut in 1935 at the age of 17, always appears so composed and amiable during appearances—she truly is one of the most lovely and appreciative people I’ve ever met—but that congeniality belies a life spent working hard and fighting for what’s right. Aside from her illustrious film career (including 1939’s THESE GLAMOUR GIRLS, 1940’s PRIDE AND PREJUDICE and 1948’s RAW DEAL), Ms. Hunt rallied against the unjust witch-hunt that the Blacklist era brought to Hollywood in support of her colleagues and her own career, and she also spent over six decades working for various humanitarian causes across the globe as one of the world’s first celebrity activists.

I’ve had the opportunity to speak to Ms. Hunt a few times over the years, mostly focusing on what she’s called the happiest time of her professional life: her work as a contract player for MGM from 1939-1945. During a conversation with her in 2014, she confirmed her deep appreciation of her time at the legendary studio:

“It was MGM that gave me what I wanted, which was to grow as an actress in every dimension. For that I needed challenge and an enormous range of characters to play instead of the love interest or ‘good girl,’ and at Metro they gave me every type of role to play; no two were alike… I was forever thrilled and grateful to MGM for that. Stardom was not the idea for me nor was it my goal.”

I was fortunate that Ms. Hunt opened up so much about her time on the backlot with me. She shared anecdotes ranging from humorous run-ins with legends (she arrived at the studio around the same time every day as Greta Garbo) to the mundane things that the company took care of (she never had to gas up her car, because MGM always made sure her tank was full) and the surprising people she palled around with most on the lot (to me, at least: it was the musicians).

To learn more about Ms. Hunt’s MGM days, you can read my full 2014 interview with her here. Late last year, I had the chance to follow-up with her about her MGM experience—and ask one question about her sweet friendship with Norman Lloyd.

Kim Luperi: You were dubbed "Hollywood's Youngest Character Actress." What part do you think was the farthest from your personality?

Marsha Hunt: Betty in THESE GLAMOUR GIRLS, my first suicide. A college widow desperate for attention and willing to try anything.

Kim Luperi: Do you recall your most challenging role?

Marsha Hunt: Perhaps aging roles.

Kim Luperi: What was the atmosphere like on the MGM lot during World War II?

Marsha Hunt: You hardly knew there was a war going on except for the missing leading men like Jimmy Stewart and Robert Taylor. We were conscious of the war, and I, at least, spent all my free time on set in my portable dressing room signing pictures. There was an awareness, I think, throughout that what we were making [movies] that would be seen around the world in different conditions. And the hope that what we were making would be a distraction or diversion. Any drama took their minds off their own plight. I learned this from them [G.I.s]—how much movies took them away from the horror of what they were forced to encounter. I learned from them how our movies were the greatest favor we could give them—a pretend world. They told me this on the Saturday nights I worked at the Hollywood Canteen. 

Kim Luperi: Did you like working within the studio system’s confines?

Marsha Hunt: Yes, because there had to be some sense of order. You simply adhered to the way things were.

Kim Luperi: As a contract player, did you have any say over what parts you played?

Marsha Hunt: Never!

Kim Luperi: Were there roles you campaigned for or were particularly excited to be assigned?

Marsha Hunt: Rarely. You had no access. You couldn’t sneak a peek at a role. I was off-beat because I was a character actress.

Kim Luperi: How active was MGM in promoting you along with your movies?

Marsha Hunt: Emily Torchia was the woman assigned to me. She got me a lot of interviews. I was photographed a great deal for publicity because I had been a model and was comfortable with being photographed. The foreign press was interested in us and the French were assigned to me because I spoke some French.

Kim Luperi: Did they send you to premieres or have you make appearances?

Marsha Hunt: I went to a few premieres with Van Johnson.

Kim Luperi: As someone interested in fashion, do you recall any of your MGM films that had particularly memorable costumes?

Marsha Hunt: Probably PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. Irene loved to dress me. I had a good clothes figure.

Kim Luperi: I saw photos of you with Norman Lloyd at the TCM Classic Film Festival last year. Have you been friends since you worked together in A Letter for Evie?

Marsha Hunt: We didn’t see each other for some time and then he directed me in a few plays. Years later we came across one another socially through mutual friends and there was a great connection.

Catch Marsha Hunt in three of her MGM pictures this month: CRY ‘HAVOC’ (1944) on June 20th, UNHOLY PARTNERS (1941) on June 29th and PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (1940) on June 30th. She also co-stars in SMASH-UP, THE STORY OF A WOMAN (1947) on June 30th.

Special thanks to Roger Memos and Elizabeth Lauritsen for their help securing this interview.