Bette and Joan The Divine Feud (31 page)

To start the year off, Joan and decorator Billy Haines cohosted a black-tie dinner-dance at her home for Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Marcus of Dallas. With her guests seated eight to a table on the badminton court and around the pool, the hostess, shimmering in diamonds and a short white strapless chiffon gown, greeted each one of the 150, while her teenaged daughter, Christina, watched from an upstairs window, worrying when mother was going to pay the long-overdue school bills.

A week later Joan showed up in black satin and emeralds at the Marion Davies party for Johnnie Ray, and while a jealous Fernando Lamas fought with Lex Barker over Lana Turner ("Why don't you take her outside and fuck her in the bushes?" an angry Fernando told Lex), Joan, adept at being quoted in any situation, said that she felt embarrassed for hostess Marion, and that she honestly believed it was time for the overactive Lana to take a rest in the romance department.

"Look who's giving advice," Lana could well have replied, for Crawford was hardly on a sabbatical from sex that year. Socially her name was linked with Kleenex heir James Kimberly and with director David Miller, while
Silver Screen
said that Joan was "seeing a lot of Jennings Lang these days. The popular agent appears to be completely recovered from the gunshot wounds incurred when Walter Wanger, husband of Joan Bennett, fired on him one evening in a Beverly Hills parking lot."

Crawford also had a short fling with the notorious gigolo-playboy Porfirio Rubirosa. The former Dominican Republic diplomat, known as "Rubi the Swordsman," was often described as "priapic, indefatigable, and enormously proportioned." "Rubi was sweet," said his second wife, Doris Duke, "but we weren't married more than a few hours and he was already diddling the maid." As a wedding gift from Doris, Rubi received a check for five hundred thousand dollars, a house in Paris, a string of polo ponies, a plane, and three sports cars. Thirteen months later he left Duke and went in search of new and wealthier women. In Argentina he dallied with Evita Perón; in Mexico it was Dolores Del Rio. When he reached Hollywood, he said he wanted to meet the luscious Lana Turner, but she was already busy shedding fiancé Fernando Lamas for Tarzan, husband-to-be Lex Barker. Rubi then called Ginger Rogers, but she was in France; someone then suggested Joan Crawford. He called, then visited, and since she was no slouch in the bedroom herself, it was said that the lusty pair cleared the birds out of the trees in and around Brentwood for the first few days and nights of their lovemaking.

For a break one night, they went dancing. Joan also arranged for Rubi to meet some Hollywood producers. With time to spare he toyed with the idea of becoming a big movie star. She got him a minor role in a western, but having no work visa, he lost the job, so as a consolation the couple drove to Palm Springs for the weekend. It was there that the playboy made the mistake of telling Crawford that she was stingy, compared with his ex-wives. In their ten days together, all Joan had given him was a silver cigarette case from Cartier's and a gold money clip, with no cash attached. Unperturbed, the star told the gigolo not to worry his macho head over such paltry matters. She had something unique and priceless already on order for him. With visions of a new car or a yacht on his mind, Rubi made love to Joan that night, and the next morning when he woke up, there was a small box and an envelope placed on the table beside the bed. Opening the box first, he found what appeared to be a hand-knit scarf or muffler. The enclosed note explained that it wasn't a scarf or muffler, but a "cock sock," perfectly measured and knitted by Joan. In the letter, she bade a fond farewell to Rubi, explaining that she had been called back to Los Angeles on some urgent business. She hoped that he would call when he was in town again, and signed the letter, "Amor, etcetera ... Joan Crawford." On calling the front desk, Rubi then learned that the star had checked out, leaving him, the great lover, stuck with the hotel bill. (Rubirosa would of course recover his losses. The following month, in Deauville, France, he met Barbara Hutton, who bestowed $3.5 million in cash and gifts on him in the fifty-three days of their short marriage.)

Joan and the Universal Beefcake Boys

"Recently I heard a 'wise guy'
story—that I had a party at my
home for
25
men.
It's
an
interesting story, but I don't
know
25
men I'd want
to
invite
to
a party."

—JOAN CRAWFORD, 1953

In New York, Joan met a business executive, Milton Rachmil. He was the head of Decca Records, owned by MCA, and he was about to be transferred to Los Angeles, to take over production for Universal Pictures. The studio connection interested the star. Once considered a minor, Universal had recently moved into television production and had increased their output of regular feature movies. When Rachmil arrived in California, Crawford gave a party in his honor. He in turn invited her to tour the studio, where she met some of the writers and producers. On her own, the star also introduced herself to the Universal corral of young male contract players. The emphasis here was on the word "young," because, according to one agent, "Joan had already exhausted the older members of the Screen Actors Guild, and was working her way through the junior division."

By then, Crawford had her own production company, and as a producer "she acted no different from any man in town. She used her executive position to purchase scripts, and to sample the talent in town," said Adela Rogers St. Johns.

According to the agent, when Joan saw an actor she liked she set up a preliminary meeting at the studio. If pleased, she followed through with an invitation to dinner at her house. The procedure was always the same. After the main course, Joan would lead her guest upstairs to her bedroom, for dessert.

"I barely got out of there with my virtue intact," said teenage idol Eddie Fisher.

Tony Curtis was in the hot-male-newcomers stable at Universal. He was one of the sexiest and best looking, Joan told
Modern Screen.
"Usually when a guy has his kind of face and sex appeal you can't touch him with a ten-foot pole," she said, "but Tony has a refreshing humility and gentleness."

She invited Tony for dinner at Brentwood. He showed up—with his bride, Janet Leigh, whom Joan chose to ignore for most of the evening.

At Universal, Jeff Chandler was being groomed as the studio's answer to Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas. The previous year he made Joan's list of popular male pin-ups in
Screenland.
"Jeff was purely male; without resorting to any of those muscle bar-bell distortions that ordinary 'body beautiful' boys indulge in," said the star.

Jeff, in a pre-parlance of the times, "took a meeting" with Joan at Universal; then dropped by her house for dinner. He returned a second and a third time. Married, he then separated from his wife and moved into his own apartment. Joan was a frequent visitor. She picked out his furnishings and his clothes, making sure everything he bought complemented
her
wardrobe. Although they were seldom seen on dates in public, Jeff was always in the background, alone, at whatever function Joan attended. To wit, some fanzine items: "Joan Crawford, in strapless white net and all gorgeous diamonds, showed at the premiere of
Moulin Rouge.
Also there were Tyrone and Linda Power, Robert Wagner, Debra Paget, and Jeff Chandler, stag." "Enjoying Edith Piaf at Mocambo was Zsa Zsa Gabor and husband George Sanders, Robert Wagner and Terry Moore; and Jeff Chandler, recently separated from his lovely wife, Margery, was seated at the same table as Joan Crawford, who looked breathtaking in blue."

Eventually Sidney Skolsky blew the whistle on the secret affair. "Joan Crawford needs a real cool romance, and Jeff Chandler isn't it," the columnist wrote.

"It's over," Joan told Jeff.

"But I love you," said Jeff. "What do we care what some crummy columnist says?"

"I care; and my fans care," said Joan. "They would be
so
disappointed in me if I was seeing a married man."

Exit Jeff, and enter Rock Hudson.

In 1953 at Universal, Rock Hudson was still a year away from hitting the big time with Jane Wyman in
Magnificent Obsession.
But Joan, after seeing an early cut of
Captain Lightfoot,
told Milton Rachmil, "That guy has got it. He's a combination of Gary Cooper and Robert Taylor." Hollywood lore said that Joan, with her normal enthusiasm, sent Rock her usual telegram. A dinner meeting at Brentwood followed, but on this night, perhaps heeding a rumor that Rock was gay, Joan changed her routine. It was a warm California evening, so after dinner they sat outside, drinking brandy by the pool. She entertained the bashful actor with stories of his favorite Metro stars, Garbo, Harlow, and his idol Clark Gable (whose lopsided grin Rock had borrowed for some of his early movies). Then the star suggested they swim in her heated pool. There were brand new trunks in the pool house for her guest to wear, and as he swam she sat nearby, nursing her drink and watching the magnificent Rock as he cut through the water. Afterward she suggested he shower and change, so they could go dancing. The story told, true or fabled, was that Rock was back in the pool house, taking a shower, when the lights went out. Suddenly he felt the warm, naked body of Joan Crawford beside him. "Sssh, baby," she whispered, "close your eyes and pretend I'm Clark Gable."

In March 1953, with no man left at Universal to conquer, Joan decided to marry the boss, Milton Rachmil. The ceremony was scheduled for Las Vegas. On the morning of the wedding, according to daughter Christina, "they left her house together in the limousine because they both had studios to report to before leaving for Las Vegas. On the way to work they had a fight over who was going to be dropped off first. That was the end of the marriage plans. Guests were called and the party in Las Vegas was cancelled."

It also temporarily shelved Joan's plans to work at Universal. But she still believed that she was a big star, able to call her own shots at the major studios.

"You have
to
be self-reliant and
strong
to
survive in this town.
Otherwise you will be
destroyed."

—JOAN CRAWFORD, SHORTLY
BEFORE HER OWN DECLINE

It was the success of
Sudden Fear
that made Joan too cocky, some people said. In January 1953, after she had agreed to play Karen Holmes, the adulterous Army wife in
From Here to Eternity,
she overplayed her hand in contract talks with Columbia Pictures. Her agent had already secured the cash (a hundred thousand dollars and a percentage of the gross) and top billing for Joan. In the all-star cast, she would come second, after Montgomery Clift but before Burt Lancaster (Frank Sinatra, begging for a comeback, would come fourth, below the title). Joan would also receive full perks. These included a first-class suite on the ship to Hawaii; her own house on the island; and her screen wardrobe to be custom-made by Sheila O'Brien, her personal designer. Reportedly it was a fight over the clothes that led to the star's exiting the picture. But executive producer Jerry Wald said Joan's main objection concerned the script. She wanted her part beefed up, with less emphasis on the Army and Pearl Harbor and more on her. "Fuck her," said Harry Cohn, using the excuse of her wardrobe as an out, and the role went to Deborah Kerr.

That March, Joan landed a two-picture deal at her old studio, M-G-M. At $125,000 per film, her first project would be
Torch Song,
which was described by one critic as "a technicolored musical version of
All About Eve,
with all of the female characters rolled into one." With a soft name and a hard heart, Jenny Stewart, Crawford's character, was an aging, neurotic, compulsive, arrogant Broadway star who bullied her staff and co-workers. "She's tough because she's really lonely at heart," said Joan, who added that she was thrilled because she would be doing her own singing in the movie. "You may not know this, but many years ago in this same studio, I made some recordings," she told one young scribe. "They were never released because my boss, L. B. Mayer, thought I was a threat to Jeanette MacDonald. Well, dear Jeanette is gone now, and so is Mister Mayer, so audiences will finally get a chance to hear me sing, and I don't mind saying I am very happy about that."

After losing ten pounds and undergoing slight surgical improvements, Joan boasted to M-G-M costumer Helen Rose, "The face and the breasts are new, but my ass is the same—as flat and as firm as a twenty-year-old's." Described by one critic as "a drag Queen let loose on film," she had her hair dyed apricot-orange and styled in "a brutal page-boy." Her onscreen dialogue also matched her rigid appearance. "People will only do what you want if you hit them first," said Joan as Jenny; later snarling, "You get paid a lot of money to dance around that leg," to a terrified chorus boy.

Her off-camera lines were also unfriendly, a Metro publicist recalled. Welcomed back to the studio after her ten-year absence, Joan strolled around the lot and was introduced to the current crop of players, including Debbie Reynolds, Bobby Van, and Anne Francis. "Lovely
children,
but where are the stars?" the established legend snapped.