Luvsbway Posted June 25, 2015 Report Share Posted June 25, 2015 Thanks to Caewi for the link to the TV Radio articles. That site is a mess so I'll try to make some sense here. This is the Love Triangle Article. In center stage was Lucy Ball, clowning for her new TV show. She had never looked better or been funnier. But two men, watching from opposite ends of the set, practically stole the scene from her. At one side was Gary Morton, her present husband — laughing. At the other was Desi Arnaz, her past husband — and he was not laughing. Of course, Desi could alibi that he had good reason for looking solemn. He's executive producer of the new "Lucy Show" and TV is a serious, million-dollar business. But there could well be another reason, Hollywood suspects. A more personal and ressing reason, based on that old familiar pattern of a triangle: Lucille Ball . . . Gary Morton — to whom Lucy has been wed for just a year . . . and Desi Arnaz — divorced from Lucy, after almost twenty years of marriage, and father of her two children. That's the delicious triangle, the goose-for-the-gander sauce which is intriguing Hollywood. They wonder: What's going to happen, as the show goes on and week after week, Monday through Thursday, Lucy works a twelve- to-fourteen-hour day with Desi at her side? What's going to happen to that urbane, witty Gary Morton when — as a top comedian himself — he goes to far- away places to fulfill his bookings? What's going to happen to Mr. and Mrs. Morton's precious weekends, when Lucy sends Lucie Jr. (almost fourteen) and little Desi (not quite ten) to stay with their father? And Lucy takes that lull as her much-needed opportunity to rest up between shows? Trouble— and $12,000,000 Can this truly wonderful dame — who is the real Lucille Ball — be the bright bride who can eat her wedding cake and have it, too? If you really want to know, Hollywood would find it enchanting if she could. They know what she suffered with Desi. That doesn't mean Hollywood doesn't like Desi. It admires him tremendously. In fact, he is regarded as a veritable genius of a showman. Besides, he only acted like many a Latin husband. He loved her wildly. He adored his children. He was infatuated with his own home — the beautiful home where Gary Morton lives now. There were only two small troubles. (1) They say he liked a nip every now and then. (2) They say he liked to flirt. He also worked too hard, but you can scarcely call that a trouble, even if it did begin to trouble Lucy terribly. In fact, it bothered her so much she got a divorce and about twelve million dollars as her split of the Desilu assets. Whereby hangs a tale which tells you a lot about Lucy: She and Desi had wound up "I Love Lucy." They both believed it had exhausted its popular appeal, which at the time Desiderio Alberto Arnaz de Acha IV had been born to them — in 1953 — had attained the highest rating any TV show ever had. (They were wrong. Today, in re-runs, "I Love Lucy" is one of the top-rated shows, even in competition with brand-new productions.) Lucy . . . depressed over the breakup of her marriage . . . depressed over facing that most distressing of feminine birthdays, her fiftieth . . . uncertain of her future . . . felt she had to prove herself. Years ago, on Broadway, she had been just a chorus girl. At the end of 1959, she determined she'd go back to Broadway as a star. She'd conquer a brilliant new world. That was when she accepted "Wildcat." She packed up Lucie and little Desi and moved to New York. At that time, she believed she'd not miss it if she never saw Hollywood again. Now, Lucy is a perfectly wonderful mother, and one reason is that she has such a wonderful mother of her own. Her kids know she is always there, with love and understanding, when they need her, just as Lucy knows her mother is there, looking after all of them. So, of course, Grandma Ball became a member of the household in New York. To this day, Lucy has never said a word against Desi to her children. Practically speaking, she's never talked against him to anyone. But, there in New York, she tried to do things with just her daughter, her son and herself. No husband. No father. Ask any woman who has had a family, and a home, and a husband, what that's like. It's the loneliest. It's a constant dagger in the memory, an eternal reminder of what has been so terribly lost. Put on top of that the awful emptiness of a person who for years has been working sixteen hours a day — as Lucy had on "I Love Lucy" — and now has nothing but time, time, time. It's a dragging hell. Thus at first, when the rehearsals of "Wildcat" started, she was pleased. But presently, with her sense of show business — which is almost as sharp as Desi's — she realized that it wasn't a good show, and she could not make it into a Broadway hit unless she personally galvanized it by an almost impossibly great performance. So she started to do that, and it very nearly killed her. She began working hours on end to sing better, dance better, make the laughs come louder and longer. She would collapse into bed, when she got home nights, and sleep as though drugged for hours. There even came a time, on the out- of-town tryout, when she slept over the entire weekend, and her mother and her maid, both shouting and pulling at her, could barely arouse her. They did, in fact, drag her out of bed and started dressing her while she was still asleep. In a taxi, heading toward the theater, she was only half- awake. It wasn't until she was in the backstage hallway, heading toward her dressing room, that Lucille became completely aware of her surroundings. Leaning wearily against the dingy wall, she stared at her mother with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Mom, why am I doing this?" she sobbed. "I've got twelve million dollars. Why am I doing this?" She couldn't stop now. That morning, there had been headlines in the New York papers about Desi Arnaz, in Hollywood, being up on a drunk-driving charge. There had been a bunch of girls with Desi. That was his fashion. He rushed around with girls in bunches. For Lucille, the show "Wildcat" had to go on. She was a complete triumph in it, though every critic said the show itself was terrible. By the sheer force of her skill and personality, Lucille made audiences roar with delight. Only her mother knew how she was exhausting herself every night. Only her mother knew how, every weekend, Lucy did things with her children, just the three of them, all making believe they had forgotten when they were a complete family. There were even a couple of weeks when Lucy had to be out of the show. She was sick. Her mother knew that she was really sick of her heart's freedom, her heart's emptiness. But one evening, Lucy's pal Paula Stewart asked her to go along with her and Paula's husband, Jack Carter, to a pizza parlor. A night-club comedian, Gary Morton, was at the same pizza parlor. Alone — but (Lucy knows now) by pre-arrangement with Paula. Gary Morton, aged forty-four. Also divorced. About five minutes after their introduction, Lucille heard herself laughing as she hadn't laughed in a couple of years. A little later, she heard Gary saying, "It's ages since I've laughed as much as I have this evening." Presently, Paula and her husband were saying they really must go home, but Gary was suggesting didn't Miss Ball want to stay on and have another drink? It was then Lucy noticed that Mr. Morton had had only one drink. They had another one together, then he took her home and asked if he might call her. He did call her the next morning. The next afternoon, too. And she did join him for supper after the show that evening. And the next, and the one after that, and the one after that one, too. Naturally, then, he had to meet her mother and the kids. The difference in men All the time, Lucy felt her whole personality beginning to come back to warmth. She noticed, with a steadily rising hope, that Gary Morton — for all his ability to make her laugh and to laugh with and at her — was a quiet, moderate man. Desi had never been moderate about one single thing, not life or food or drink or love or flirtations. She had got into the habit herself of eating too much, drinking a bit too much. The difference between her and Desi was that she could carry a lot of alcohol. Desi couldn't — which did nothing but make him fiercely angry. But with Gary Morton holding down to one drink, obviously by choice, Lucille began cutting down to one drink, too. Today, she doesn't even drink that one. She began holding down on food, too, and her beautiful figure began coming back to her. The closing notice of Wildcat" went up and she was only glad. She had held it up, by her battling performance, enough to prove to the world what she could do, but she began to dream of a mature, quiet happiness . . . some-thing she'd never had with Desi, something she came to believe she never could have had with him. She had her children. She had her mother. She had all the money she could ever want, and Gary was offering her love, and she was a very feminine woman who loved love ... so on the nineteenth of November, she and Gary were married. Lucy was very happy. She was going to have a beautiful, quiet life. Gary could work in night clubs whenever he wished, but he wasn't crazily ambitious. He worked to earn enough to live on graciously. He liked a gracious leisure, too. So did Lucy. Desi had been the crazily ambitious one. Only, early in 1962, discussions began about Lucille doing a new TV show. At that time, Lucille Ball Morton was a very happy woman. She had peace and quiet and faithful devotion, and laughter, too, with Gary. Her children were very happy with her new husband. Life was placidly delightful. Only, when that new show was mentioned, Lucille suddenly knew why she had done "Wildcat" despite her twelve million dollars. In the actor's phrase, she had to be "on." Yes, she was very, very happy in her private life, but she was also used to a public life. She is too modest a person, actually, to admit to herself that she is an artist. But she is a great comic artist, and needs an outlet for creative expression. Everything— versus nothing A new TV show, if it was a hit, would let her have everything — a beautiful marriage, her beautiful children, fun in a studio. And besides! Miss Ball grinned to herself. A cat who has just made away with a particularly fat canary couldn't have looked any more sly. Desi, you see, was still going around with girls in bunches. He hadn't settled down to any particular one. The more Lucy thought of her old beautiful home in Beverly Hills, that great, magnificent rambling house where she'd raised little Lucie and Desi, the more glorious it seemed. She described it to Gary. He kissed her lovingly and indicated he wouldn't mind living in it one bit. Near to Jack Benny's, huh, and very close to a golf course? Nothing could suit Gary more. So Lucy Morton came back to a new show — and Desilu. After all, she was still vice-president of Desilu. It would have made no sense going into competition with herself by working at any other studio. As for a producer — everybody knew Desi was an absolute genius at it, which would make it idiotic for her not to make that genius available to herself. Besides, she and Desi were civilized people. They could be business partners, business friends. And if Desi continued to get loaded, practically every night, so what? She wasn't drinking at all. She was sticking to her diet. She had her lovely, quiet evenings, full of laughter and romance, at home with Gary. He didn't give a hoot about going to night clubs or parties. She didn't, either. They had each other, her children, her mother. And now she'd have a new show, too. What a big, fat, wonderful life. Only — after Lucy had signed for the show and she was back at Desilu working — she and Vivian Vance discovered that making a show without Desi and Bill Frawley in the cast was twice as much work as they had anticipated. Without TV "husbands," Vivian has many more lines to learn and Lucy has three times as many! With one or both in almost every scene, rehearsals and actual shooting took lots of time. Too much time. Twelve to fourteen solid hours a day, for at least four days a week. Gary Morton told his happy wife he thought it wouldn't be professional for him to come to rehearsals, but he'd come watch each show as they recorded it. She loved him for that, for being so considerate, for not being jealous. Desi always blew his stack if a man so much as smiled at her. Gary and Desi behaved like well-bred gentlemen of the great world whenever they did meet — particularly the night the first show was taped, with an audience looking on. And when the show was over, Lucy ran into Gary's arms and he kissed her warmly and told her and the whole room how terrific she had been. Yes, it was a charming sight, and that shrewd, select audience was happy for Lucy, their own, unspoiled darling. Only. . . . Only now, as the show goes on, she necessarily is spending more waking hours with Desi than she does with Gary. For, over the weekends, she sleeps and sleeps to rest up. Don't get the impression that there is a single cloud in her sky, because there isn't. She is very much in love. And she is also having the kind of larksome revenge that is granted to very, very few women who once loved too much. Nevertheless, Hollywood keeps thinking about Desi. Desi, the little Cuban musician who had barely a dime when he came to Hollywood and now has many, many millions. You don't get to be a millionaire unless you hit gold or oil . . . or unless you know how to get around obstacles. Two sides of a triangle Besides, there are two small stories about Lucy and Desi that stand out. One happened recently, when a weary Lucy, going home from the studio, stopped by to see a friend who lives in one of the few private dwellings in Hollywood that have elevator service. The elevator operator asked, rather coyly, "And how's Mrs. Morton?" Half knocked out with fatigue, but always obliging to her public, Lucy said, "Gee, I've been so busy since I've got back, I haven't seen a soul." Then she sucked in her breath. "Oh, gosh," she gasped, "I'm Mrs. Morton." The Desi story is simpler. The evening after they had taped that first new Lucy show, he was charming to all the guests. He chatted. He talked. He is, naturally, a very charming man. He stood aside and saw his ex-wife, the star of the show he's not in, go laughingly out on the firm, strong arm of her new husband. Finally, there was no one left at all except Desi. There was no sound. There was simply nothing. Only Desi sitting there, all alone. All alone and thinking, thinking. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Neil Posted June 25, 2015 Report Share Posted June 25, 2015 Thanks for going to the trouble to transcribe the above article. TV Radio Mirror was the best of those magazines, although through the 60s they seemed obsessed with Jackie Kennedy and the Lennon Sisters; one or the other graced a big bulk of their covers. Gary was 44? It must be the marriage because he got older when she walked into the room. Is that the reason we know so little about Gary's pre-Lucy history? They kept it quiet lest we might find out he auditioned for the role Tommy Dix (actually a year OLDER than Gary) played in MGM's "Best Foot Forward" (the high school senior who gets a date with one Lucille Ball). They tried to pass Gary off as the same age as Desi, born 1917 (although the article above suggests he was already 44 in 1960, making it 1916). Given the way he looked, it was believable, especially later when he let his hair and his "hair" go grey. 1924 seems to be his accepted YOB now, but 1926 is a possibility; and one can't blame Lucy for not wanting to be perceived as Cougar/Wildcat. I've never seen any picture of the two of them where she looked 13 years older than him; or ANY older than him. And until she had to petition the court in 1965, she was officially Mrs. GOLDAPPER not Morton. Gary didn't get around to legally changing his name until after they were married; and him changing to Morton didn't automatically hers was changed too. I wonder if she ever signed anything Lucille Goldapper. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Caewi Posted June 25, 2015 Report Share Posted June 25, 2015 Thanks for transcribing! The site is excellent but the articles are very messy. A few things in there are completely ridiculous. The idea that she was eating to excess when she was with Desi is laughable. She was terribly, terribly thin in the later years of their marriage and had a beautiful figure before then. The pregnancies had an impact but a wonderful impact in my opinion. She did not need to diet and anyone suggesting that at the time was honestly putting her health in danger. The thought of Desi being the overly ambitious one is just funny. For better or for worse she was made of ambition and it did amazing things to her career but harm to her family. That was her choice and her instinct and certainly not Desi's. The Gary part was quite fluffy but I guess that's what they wanted out of the article. Does anyone know if Gary did in,y come to the rehearsals at the beginning? I know he ultimately had greater involvement but that may have been later. I bet he wanted to move into that house between the celebrities and the golf! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted June 25, 2015 Author Report Share Posted June 25, 2015 Lucy leaving with the new husband all happy and with the new show and Desi is left behind to think about what he lost. Damn that makes me sad. The Wildcat story about DeDe and Harriet trying to drag Lucy out of bed and to the theatre sounds 100% out of the episode Lucy’s Career. I do find it especially heartbreaking how Lucy was then crying to her mom about not being able to continue on with the show and why was she putting herself through all this. Lucy once again in her life had the weight on the world on her. She knew that the show was doing great business because of her and if she left it would close and put all those kids out of work. I read in one of the books out there that even before the show started she was very scared to take on this project. It was her mom who said that no one else was going to do this show better then she could and to stop crying about it and go do it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Brock Posted June 25, 2015 Report Share Posted June 25, 2015 Thanks for this! I look forward to digging in tonight. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted June 27, 2015 Author Report Share Posted June 27, 2015 Another good one from early 63' I highlighted a particularly interesting portion. "There was once a woman," said Lucille Ball, "who advertised for 'a genuine Chippendale chair' — but her ad also said, 'I'd like to get it for free.' Of course she didn't get one reply. End of story. Tell me, you know anyone who gets anything worth while for nothing? Price, shmice! When it comes to a rare commodity like love and happiness, you should be glad to pay a price ..." In her dressing-room suite at Desilu, the great comic actress was in top form. Though it was a luncheon-inter- view, she had asked the reporter to "hold out, please, till Gary arrives." She and Gary Morton, it turned out, had celebrated their first anniversary a few weeks before, and Lucy was still wrapped in a golden glow. Wearing slacks (her usual work clothes) and a bracelet watch studded with diamonds, she confided, "When Gary gave me the watch, he said, 'It doesn't feel like our first, but more like our second anniversary. From the minute we met, I knew you were for me and, right off, the big question shaking me up was: How can I go through the rest of my life without her?' " Lucy threw back her orange head and gave her laugh of raucous heartiness. "The same idea had hit me, too, but I didn't tell him — not just then." "What else did he give you?" the reporter asked. "Oh, an evening bag of handmade woven gold. It matches the cigarette case, lighter and other accessories he's given me. I gave him a star sapphire ring and a watch, too." She glanced archly at the reporter. "We had the gifts inscribed with all our private little sayings^" The reporter tried to catch herself and act indifferent, but it was too late; the gleam in her eyes had shown. "Like what sort of sayings?" she hopefully probed. Lucy chuckled. "Yes, wouldn't you like to know! But if I told you, they wouldn't be private anymore. Tell you what, come back in a few years and I'll tell them to you. By then, we'll have a lot of new ones."The cook popped in to inquire Lunch was to be served. "Not till Mr. Morton arrives," the star replied simply. It was at this juncture that Lucy was asked if she felt she'd paid a high price for love and a happy marriage. "It's not a swapshop," retorted Lucy. "You don't say to life, 'I'll trade you this for that ... or this is my top price for happiness, take it or leave it.' But you understand, if you've got any sense about the world, that there's some penalty attached to everything you get. When I divorced Desi, I was terribly upset. I was unhappy and wanted to rid myself of the awful aching. In doing this, I had to pay the price of breaking up my family, of causing a split in the normal life of my children and, of course, there was another penalty for freedom — of attracting the spotlight of publicity and news to myself. It wasn't hard to realize this would happen, but it was a choice I had to make. I felt it was worth it." She crinkled her brow meditatively. "And when I met Gary and fell in love with him — I'd had enough experience to know there would be consequences if we got married. New problems, adjustments, they come with every marriage. Again I felt Gary was worth it, and I acted accordingly." "A small price to pay . . ." Lucy flung an arm out to point to the door. "There's your answer. I've paid a mighty small price in comparison to what I've got for it in the way of love, consideration and happiness." Following her gesture toward the door, the reporter saw a tall (six- four), sportily but elegantly dressed man who managed to look both interesting and interested at the same time. This was Gary Morton, comedian, businessman and husband of Lucille Ball. He held up a box and announced enthusiastically, "I got it . . . just like mine in his size." After introductions, he explained that "it" was a sport jacket just like his that young Desi had admired. With a throaty tenderness Lucy was saying, "Children are the best judges of adults. My Lucy is only twelve and Desi's only ten, but they went for Gary from the start. I'd also like to point out there's plenty of truth to the old saying 'Mother knows best.' My mother, who is never one to give away advice unless it's asked for three times, told me without my asking that I'd be a fool not to marry 'that sweet, kind, easygoing, wonderful Gary Morton.' She said if I didn't snatch him up, some other gal would. I reminded her that a second marriage was the farthest thing from my mind. I'd had it. 'And besides,' I added, 'an- other marriage would bring me face-to- face with more adjustments and responsibilities.' She snorted at me, 'After all your unhappiness, who are you to quibble about a little bother if it means getting the right man?' " Gary winked. "It was the same with me. I said to myself, 'Gary Morton, who are you to turn down a mother-in-law like that?' And I decided I just wouldn't." Picking up four cigarettes, he lit them and pretended to be so nervous he puffed them all at once. "Well?" he quavered, "When does the inquisition begin?" Lucy laughed. "Gary's prepared for the worst. Before we got married, he was a comedian who just had to amuse and entertain people. Now he has to answer all sorts of questions . . . what he eats, wears to bed, and so on. That's the price he's paying for me." "I'm her husband," straightfaced Gary. "She's my wife. We're happy as clams and always depressed." It won a guffaw from Lucy and a stamp of her foot, her customary gesture when greatly amused. She reached over for his hand. They looked at each other, the reporter decided, like honeymooners who expect to honeymoon forever. During lunch, Gary said, "I signed the final papers for the golf center . . . and then I went into a hardware store and saw a dandy electric drill — " "Good." sighed Lucy, "maybe you can get it for me so I can drill some of these lines Viv (Vivian Vance) and I have been sweating over into our heads. We've been rehearsing in a shower all morning, and that's no fun." Gary smiled comfortingly at her. "Rehearsing under seltzer wouldn't be bad, but under water it's just wet." Lucy relaxed as if by magic. She chatted a moment about a spark of hope she and Gary were nursing into a "big old flame." They both wanted to find time for a long layoff from work to make a much-deferred trip around the world with the children and to just "enjoy life like a couple of nobodies that nobody's interested in." Gary and the children The conversation drifted to Gary's influence on the children. "Gary's like me about dinner. He likes the idea of the whole family sitting down together. Little Desi asked him why the other evening. Gary said, 'The family that breaks bread together doesn't break heads together.' You should have heard the laugh." "My best audience," murmured Gary. "Desi went to military school for a year," Lucy went on, "and it seemed as though his table manners disappeared. I supposed it's natural when there are only boys at the table. But I feel social manners are important as children grow up. It's twice as hard to learn later." "Did you hear Desi the other night?" said Gary, turning to his wife. "We had a guest for dinner," he explained to the reporter, "and we were busy talking over dessert and coffee. Desi was through but couldn't get our attention. Finally he put up his hand and said, 'Listen, anyone . . . can be I excused?' "You became a parent rather suddenly," the reporter said. "How do you think you're doing?" "Just great," Lucy put in. "He shares not only the responsibilities of them with me but also the disciplining. I don't think he'd planned on becoming so involved — but those things just happen." "Yes," agreed Gary, "that's true. Somehow, when you're around youngsters, it brings out the paternal instincts in you. I've found that I've developed a tone of voice and a look very much like my father used on me when he'd reached the end of his patience. When I bring these out, Desi and Luce (his nickname for little Lucy) know I mean it. But I plan on buying a double-barreled shot- gun," he added. "Our Luce is a real doll. In a year or so, she'll be a knockout of a teenager and I'll need the gun to keep the wolves from the door." "What's the second barrel for?" said Lucy, playing straightman to the gag. "Oh," he said, "it's for young Desi. He's made a habit of coming into my bathroom, using my hair tonic, after- shave lotion and what not. Seems to me they start in with that stuff mighty early nowadays. . . ." When Gary heard the noise of hammers and inquired where it was coming from, Lucy informed him, "That's my new office they're working on. It will be right next door." From this it was quickly established that Gary was sticking to his statement a year before that he intended to keep out of Lucy's career affairs. "And I intend to go on keeping my nose out of Desilu," he added. "What would I do here — warm a chair? They've done all right without me, and I'm sure they can go on doing even better, now they've got Lucy's brains pitching in." Gary's one direct connection with "The Lucy Show" comes on Thursday nights, when it is taped before a studio audience. Both he and Desi Jr. help in warming up the crowd before Lucy goes on with her show. Young Desi displays his talents in a bongo-drum act while Gary "kicks off" the fun with one of his stand-up routines. "It's just for the kicks," he said quietly, when asked if he got paid in cash. "Lucy gives me a kiss and a thanks, and that's more than enough for yours-truly." "You talk like a man who's about to build a shrine," the reporter smiled. "Someone's beat me to it," he shot back. "Lucy and I had our first date at a small intimate pizza place in New York. The jukebox was playing 'Just In Time.' When we celebrated our anniversary in New York, we went back there and the proprietor told us that he was going to build a sort of shrine in the corner booth where we sat that first time — sort of a Lucy-Sat-Here booth." "Pish-tush." said Lucy, "your name's to be on it, too." While Lucy checked over a hundred stills used for publicity, killing a few because the lighting was bad, Gary spoke of "ways to ease the strain on Lucy since she took on the presidency of Desilu." He said he was glad to learn about the office being built next to her suite. "That means she won't have to hop on her golf cart the way she does now and hustle back and forth from the executive building to the set." Desi Arnaz's retirement from studio activity — and his rumored romance with Edie Mack Hirsch and their plans to operate a joint stable of race-hors after marriage — has left Lucy in sole command at the studio. Though she receives expert assistance from the various specialists and technicians on the lot, much of the yea- or nay-saying falls on her shoulders. Obviously it would be to her advantage if Gary, a fine businessman in addition to his talents as a comic, would step in and take over some of the executive duties at the studio. But this he has steadfastly refused to do. Instead, he is involved "up to my neck" in his new golf center. This project takes in twelve acres on the old Warner Bros. ranch in Topanga Canyon in the San Fernando Valley. One of Gary's ideas will provide for a practice set-up that includes a push-button movie machine for instruction purposes. Gary excused himself. He had another business engagement. After telling Lucy he'd be home early to show young Desi his jacket, he departed. Lucy's eyes followed after him. "It's great being married to a man who is not intent on having his name up in lights. Happiness is much more important to Gary than fame. We both agree on that." "And how does a famous comedienne, an important executive, a woman known to all the public, still remain feminine?" the reporter asked. The "fight" for femininity Lucy looked thoughtful. "I don't really know if I can answer that. You are, or you aren't. I don't think any woman can be completely feminine, however, if material gains are uppermost in her mind. But I don't see why a woman can't be sweet, even gentle, and still be a success if she puts happiness and contentment first. Public clowns don't have to be grouches at home or at the studio. I'm always rather amused when I read about these newcomers who walk out on strike because they feel they're not being treated like stars. If you're meant to be a star, you'll become one when the time is right. But demanding to be called one, and asking for the money and rights of a star, doesn't make you one. If a comedienne is talented and surrounds herself with talented people, she won't have to fight for attention, make demands and, as a result, lose her womanliness. I've found that most men — including those in show business — are more than willing to give women their chance. And those of us who are really serious always think of the show first, ourselves as individual personalities last. I think that Gracie Allen, Mary Livingstone. Eve Arden and a flock of others who put their families and personal lives first, disprove that comediennes aren't feminine." But as is the custom of the greatest female clown in show business, the mood of seriousness had to give way to her irrepressible humor. At the door, saying goodbye, suddenly she executed a side- long kick and grimace that was the perfect takeoff on Red Skelton. Then, almost instantly, her face and figure were back to the dignified Lucille Ball, president of Desilu. "Let's face it," she chuckled, "whether you deal in pennies or millions, life's still a circus, and you pay to get in — even if you're part of the big show. . . ." — Eunice Field Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted July 2, 2015 Author Report Share Posted July 2, 2015 The very good article on Vivian about mental illness and her breakdown. "New York was so sunny that day, and the people were having such fun. Only I seemed to be walking in darkness. I could only wonder why nobody noticed the misery which I felt was hanging around my neck like a leper's bell.. Was 1 that good an actress that I could make every- one believe I was as happy and cheerful as I tried to pretend? Suddenly, I looked into my heart and saw the truth. I was mentally ill. . . . and I had to have help." Thus, in the most casual of tones, Vivian Vance, pert co-star of "The Lucy Show," began the story of her eight-year ordeal. The blond actress tells of her secret anguish in the hope that it will encourage other victims of mental illness to "face up to the facts and seek professional care." Quite readily, Vivian points out that, "Chances are, if I got into one of those black moods today and my husband or some friend told me to 'snap out of it,' I'd just laugh at that silly and overworked phrase. But fifteen years ago! My goodness, I can tell you my emotions were on a hair-trigger and any such advice might have started me screaming my head off. . . ." Nobody meeting vibrant, joyous Vivian today would ever guess that her long walk through darkness al- most caused her to quit her career. "The worst part of it," she says, "was my fear of being found out. I spent tortured hours working up the role of Vivian Vance, the bright, self-possessed and confident woman. It was all fictitious. Even at the time I was getting the highest praise from critics and the public, I was haunted by a sense of inadequacy. I doubted my talent, my taste and my judgment, and I was in constant fear that people might suspect what was eating at me all the time." She wasn't found out, and possibly the best-kept secret of show business was Vivian's mental disturbances and psychoanalytic struggle since 1947 to regain control of her nerves, emotions and unde standing — for the first time in her life — of herself. How did her distressing condition come about? Vivian attempts to supply an answer. "Many people who have a smattering of Freud assume that all neuroses spring from an unhappy childhood. True, it often happens. A child is rejected, receives some traumatic shock, and, later in life, begins to show symptoms. But it is not always that si ple. In my case, I had a childhood that was normal, pleasant and healthy. There was always an abundance of affection, loyalty and good humor within the family. There still is. My four sisters and my brother were a tower of strength to me in my bad years. So the common cause of most mentally sick people, which can be traced back to their unhappy childhood, did not apply in my case." Vivian was born and reared in those sections of the country that are popularly supposed to be most average and normal. Her birthplace was Cherryvale, Kansas, and her early upbringing was in Independ- ence, of the same state. In her teens, her family moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico. There Vivian joined a little-theater group. She had always felt the pull of acting in Kansas, where she appeared in several high- school productions. Her interest in the stage continued until it became the great love of her life. To finance a trip to New York "and conquer Broadway," she appeared in a fundraising performance of "The Trial of Mary Dugan." The people of Albuquerque rallied to their adopted daughter, and as a result she had enough for a train ticket and a few weeks' expenses in the big city. On arriving in New York, Vivian moved into the modest MacDougal Street Girls Club. Beginners are bold. Knowing little about the accepted methods of casting, she hurried to an audition for the Jerome Kern — Oscar Hammerstein musical, "Music in the Air." It turned out, much to her dismay, to be that the "open call" was for girls with operatic training. Vivian decided to go down singing. Her turn arrived, she stepped out and, with blithe determination, asked the pianist to play "After You've Gone." Then, taking a deep breath, she belted out her own brassy version. There was a silence from the small group listening from third-row center. Sure she was a flop, Vivian began a bouncy exit through the stage door. Her knees fairly buckled when Kern himself headed her off to tell her there was a spot in the show for her. The show was a success and she received some fine notices. As a result, she found parts in other productions until, five years later, her name was up in lights as Ed Wynn's leading lady in "Hooray for What." Other starring roles followed and then, early in 1944, she went overseas to entertain troops in a specially tailored script of "Over Twenty-One." Her unit landed in North Africa and trailed the Army into Italy, putting on shows wherever possible in the wake of war's devastation. She returned home, on the thin edge of exhaustion, and almost at once went into the Chicago and San Francisco company of "Voice of the Turtle." It had a long run and, when it was over, she returned to New York and to a resumption of life with her husband, actor Philip Ober, whom she had met and married in 1941 while they both were appearing in "Kiss the Boys Goodbye." Their careers had kept them parted for a good deal of their marriage, and now, with the strain of work and her emotional tensions, the inevitable crisis began to rise to the surface. She started to suffer from a variety of ailments — sick headaches, allergies, all sorts of physical troubles her doctor could not solve. Obviously they were rooted in some mental disturbance. But it was hard to admit it. The doctor tact- fully suggested that psychoanalysis might get to the bottom of the problem. Vivian hesitated, unwilling to face the truth. Then came that day when she walked out into a bright and gay city and recognized that she alone was living in a secret agony of darkness. She agreed to see a psychiatrist. "And I welcomed that decision with an open, grateful mind." But first she decided to visit her family in New Mexico. She did not return to New York but instead remained, seeking the help of a psychiatrist there and the healing solace of the desert quietness. "My family, God bless them, were wonderfully intelligent in their view of analysis. They had none of the prejudice toward mental sickness that is a hangover from the Dark Ages. I never suffered a moment due to any display of ignorance or intolerance on their side. They were understanding and good. Really, I don't know what might have become of me if it weren't for their devotion and love . . ." For the next couple of years, Vivian was in virtual retirement, emerging in to public only to shuttle back and forth between her family and her husband, who was plying his trade in films. Finally, in 1950,feeling stronger and at the urging of friends who still did not suspect the truth, Vivian hit the come- back trail in a La Jolla production of "Voice of the Turtle." "It was the luckiest thing I ever did," she recalls. The birth of "Ethel" It seems that Desi Arnaz was then on the hunt for someone to play the role of his and wife Lucille Ball's next- door neighbor, Ethel Mertz, in what was to be one of TV's all-time favorite shows, "I Love Lucy." Desi, who spent a lot of time at the Del Mar track, close to La Jolla, came to see the show one evening. He watched Vivian's performance and then said to Lucy, "The search is over ... we found our Ethel Mertz." And so Vivian went on to play Lucy's companion in mischief for nine years of solid, profitable acclaim. For the first six years of that stint, she was under analysis. Looking back on it now, she credits the laugh-bubbling show, her friendship with Lucille Ball, and the dedication of her family and fans — as much as her doctor — with her recovery of balance, composure and stability. With regard to Ober, Vivian does not seem to include him in the factors making for her restoration of health. Though she never speaks harshly or reproachfully of him, she apparently did not find her marriage a source of strength during her ordeal. Her only comment is a firm, "The past is done with . . . I'm interested only in today and tomorrow." In April of 1959, after eighteen years of marriage, Vivian and Philip Ober were divorced. He brought the original suit, charging cruelty. She countersued, charging, "We could never agree on how to handle my success." At one point, she testified, "I offered to step out of I Love Lucy' if it would save our marriage. But he didn't want that, either." On the verge of collapse, Vivian broke into grateful tears when Superior Court Judge Barnett Wolf son granted her a decree. Ober has since remarried and seems contented in his new life. As for Vivian, when she married John Dodds on January 17th. 1961, she was reported as looking "positively radiant." She and Dodds had met at the home of Mr. and Mrs. William Hooton, whose experiences as owners of a dude ranch were later brought to TV by Desilu in the series called "Guestward Ho!" The Hootons were witnesses at Vivian's and John's marriage in Santa Fe. Of her new husband, she says, "He's a literary agent with the firm of MC intosh. McKee and Dodds . . . and we're happy as a couple of clams." Vivian and John have made their marital lovenest in Stamford, Connecticut, in a 125-year-old white Colonial house complete with red barn, stone walls, gracious fields and dramatic woods. As a necessary concession to her work in the new Lucille Ball show, Vivian maintains an apartment in Hollywood. John's business often takes him to Hollywood and, whenever she can wangle a long weekend off from shooting schedules, Vivian flies home to be with her husband, tend to her gardening and occupy herself with what has become a serious avocation, mental health work. She is current chairman of "Operation Friendship" for the Connecticut Association for Mental Health, and it is not an honorary title. "I work at the job," she declares proudly. "Some of the patients at the state hospitals know me from TV, and they respond to my visits . . . you know, talk freely and without resentment. Getting them to open up and talk is, of course, part of the treatment. I remember how it was with my own crackup. And I make sure to let them know about it. It sort of puts us on a common footing, and the fact that I was cured and seem to be functioning so well is an inspiration to them not to give up hope and to trust the treatment they're getting . . ." The reward Her work with "Operation Friend- ship" is dear to her, and she is continually on the alert to draft volunteers. "It's so rewarding . . . and I've seen such miracles. Talk about Lazarus being raised from the dead! Some of these patients are worse than dead, and when finally they are adjusted and can go out into the world and take their places again with normal people you should see their faces, and the faces of their loved ones. It makes all the pain and hardship of psychoanalysis, of years of treatment, worth any sacrifice. I speak with authority on this score. I passed through this fire . . . and came out unharmed and filled with hope and pleasure in being alive." One of the improvements Vivian claims for herself as a "bonus" of her cure is that she feels "more feminine." "I didn't like myself much in the old days, and I wasn't sure of my identity or my reason for being. It made me feel hard and irritable inside. Now I feel like I'm on cloud nine. I know who I am, John's wife . . . and my prime purpose in life is to make John happy. The more I work at that, the more contented and joyful I feel. All this carries over into my profession. I e joy acting more now. I have a deeper regard for my fans, my co-workers, and the pressures involved in show business are far easier for me to contend with now. "I read recently a poem by E. A. Robinson. It had a striking line in it that has stayed with me. Let me quote it to you. 'We've each a darkening hill to climb.' What truth there is in that simple statement! When Marilyn Monroe came to her tragic end and I read newspaper accounts of how she called people the night of her death, I couldn't help wondering whether she might not still be alive if someone, anyone, had taken the trouble to let her talk her heart out and offer some sincere expressions of sympathy and understanding. I thought about myself — how the love and loyalty of my family gave me courage and the plain guts to go on. Yes, most of us, unless we're supremely lucky, have to walk in dark- ness upsome hill of suffering. True, we must do it on our own. But it puts wings instead of chains on our feet, if we are aware of the affection and prayers of those who are dear to us." — Eunice Field Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted July 11, 2015 Author Report Share Posted July 11, 2015 1962 A New Love for Lucy "I take thee, Gary . . ." and then it was all sentimental tears and glowing happiness for our favorite redhead . by EIXEN CRANE The wide blue eyes were serious — and there was more than a hint of tears — as she stood before the minister to say the words which were to spell the start of a new life. Her startling orange-gold hair was subdued under her blue-green tulle headdress. Her voice was warm and firm as she repeated, after the minister, "I, Lucille, take thee, Gary, to be my wedded. Mr. and Mrs. Morton (nee Lucille Ball) had special wedding cake— and ready- made family: Lucie. 10, and Deri Artuu, ll. flew East to join husband. . . ." But her hand shook as the big, broad-shouldered man beside her lifted it to slip the ring on her finger. "I now pronounce you man and wife." There was a pause then, as the two show- business stars stood, not knowing quite what to do. The minister broke the silence: "Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Gary Morton." She turned then, as brides have from time immemorial, to receive her husband's kiss. She smiled, the radiant smile of a woman in love, and all the tension and doubt were over. She hugged Paula Stewart, the girl who had introduced them, and Paula's husband. Jack Carter. She reached for her two children, and her mother, and Gary's mother. Suddenly all was laughter and tears and gaiety inside the dignified walls of New York's Marble Collegiate Church. "They're waiting outside, Lucy," someone said, minutes later. "There must be a thousand people out there." The warm smile reserved for those she loves best disappeared as Lucille Ball Arnaz Morton, taking her husband's arm. walked out the door to their car — and the mass of photographers and reporters and people waiting there, who crowded againstthe police barricades as cameras clicked and flash bulbs popped. "Kiss him, Lucy." "Let's have one without the veil, Lucy." The quiet, dignified service was over. It was the public image of Lucy, the clown with the sharp wit, they wanted. The Lucy known the nation over answered their questions, posed for "just one more" picture, waved gaily at the crowd, and ducked the shower of rice on her way to the car. No, they hadn't time for a honeymoon just now. She was rehearsing for a TV special which was to be taped from November 29 to December 3. Gary, meanwhile, had a commitment in Las Vegas — and, marriage or no marriage, "the show must go on." But they were snatching a few days at the Concord Hotel, up in the Catskills, and would be together for the holidays, in Lucy's home in Beverly Hills. Later, in January, they'd have time for a real honeymoon, in Acapulco. . . . Yes. they planned to live in California, in the big house which became Lucy's as part of her divorce settlement. . . . Yes, both planned to continue their careers, though not together. . . . Yes, she and Desi would continue to share custody of their children. . . . Yes. . . . And at last, after the reporters and photographers had had their innings, and they'd said goodbye to their relatives and friends in a flood of champagne, it was over. Mr. and Mrs. Gary Morton set out for the two-hour drive through the New York countryside for an all-too-brief respite before they took up their crowded lives once more. How did Lucy feel as she stood before the altar on that bright Sunday afternoon of November 19 while her long-time friend, the eminent Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, pronounced the words that were to so change her life? How does any clown feel at a time too serious or too sacred for jests? Did she remember the time, twenty-one years before, when she had promised to love, honor and cherish — or was it "obey"? — another man? Did she think fleetingly of that other man, Desi Arnaz? He had sent his best wishes. "He likes Gary," she had told the press. "He accepts Gary." As she and Gary sped over the country roads, did she recall that other rip, twenty-one years before, when an impetuous young movie actress and an equally impetuous Cuban bongo-drummer had driven through a nearby countryside to say their "I do's" before a Greenwich. Connecticut justice of the peace? There were many similarities — and many of the same problems. She was better known than her bridegroom then, better established in the entertainment world. Now, once again, she had taken as her mate a man whose name spells less glitter than does hers, in the glittering world of make believe. Lucy didn't mind then, as she doesn't now. "It doesn't bother me," she said. "I just wanted to make sure it didn't bother him. But he had the right attitude — he's adult about it." And she hesitated only briefly because, like Desi, Gary is a few years younger than she — if a woman of Lucy's vibrancy can be pinpointed in years. "I'm glad he kept asking me. It was right — and it is right." Once more, too, there was the unhappy prospect of frequent separations. A comedian who plays top-flight clubs from coast to coast must be away from home often, just as Desi was in those earlier years. "We haven't discussed that much," Gary said thoughtfully, a few days before their marriage, when he was asked whether their dual careers and the resulting separations might not pose a threat to their happiness. "We are sure our happiness will work everything out. My main career is making her happy." And despite the similarities and the problems, Lucy's bid for happiness now is based on a new quality — fun. They had laughs and pizza on their first meeting, a blind date arranged by Paula Stewart, who had the ingenue role in "Wildcat," the play in which Lucy was starring. And, as one date led to another, and one laugh to more, a year went by. twelve months so filled with jokes and gaiety that Lucy, who had said only a few months before, "I'm afraid of marriage," could no longer resist. It had been a depressed Lucy who, after her divorce from Desi, had come to New York to pick up the threads of her life. She was the star of a Broadway play, filling a theater each night with her own flaming personality. Her children were with her, and her mother. But, after the stage lights had dimmed and the audience had left the theater, it was a sad-faced clown who took off her make-up and went home to her luxurious apartment — alone. Lucy needed a guy, her friend Paula felt. Someone to take her to Sardi's or El Morocco, or any of the other night spots where show-business folk make merry after their night's work is over. . . . Some- one gay and fun, who could make her laugh, turn up the corners of her generous mouth, and bring back the sparkle to her eyes. So Paula arranged a date for her with an easy-going comedian who was appeating then at the Copacabana. She told Lucy something about him, of course . . •. that he came from the Bronx and had got into show business as a result of being assigned to special services when he was a GI. . . . that he'd been on Broadway in "Mr. Wonderful" but that mostly he played night clubs all the way from the Catskills to Las Vegas,mixing up imitations with gag trumpet-playing . . . that, like Lucy, he'd been married, a marriage which had ended in an annulment a few years before. "You'll like him," she said. "He's really a very funny guy." Paula chose more wisely than she knew. Almost at once, life for Lucy began to be fun once more. That's all it was at first — fun. "My first impression of her was of her fantastic sense of humor," says Gary, his eyes crinkling as he recalls that first date. "She was working hard at the show and was dead tired, but it couldn't cloud over her happy spirit. We had a lot of fun together. . . . But I had no inkling it would ever lead to marriage." The weeks passed . . . and the months. From the beginning, when Gary was working out of town, telegrams — the crazier the better — flew back and forth between them. Later, after Lucy had returned to the West Coast, Gary found excuses for being there, too. They were together here, there, every- where. Lucy's eyes sparkled once again; the corners of her mouth turned up in a radiant smile. "We just seemed to turn around — and a year had passed. We couldn't help thinking what a beautiful year we had spent together. We wanted to continue having beautiful years together." And so, in that New York church on a bright Sunday afternoon in November, they made their vows. The woman who had struggled for years to achieve fame and fortune, only to have them turn bitter in her mouth, was determined now to find happiness. "I want a happy quiet life." Life with Desi was many things. It was tempestuous, exciting, unpredictable. It included quarrels — and reconciliations. Happy, certainly, at times, else it would not have lasted so long. But quiet? Never. Fun? Nobody, in all their years together, ever suggested that theirs was a fun-shared marriage. As Hollywood saw it, they were an ill-matched pair from the start. Desi was a volatile Cuban, with the reputation for being a playboy that all Latins in show business have. Lucille Ball was tagged as a brash and sophisticated blonde who was inevitably cast in "other woman" roles. Hollywood gave their marriage six months. Deep down inside — where she was still a frightened girl from Jamestown, New York — Lucy wasn't that optimistic. "I gave us six weeks," she said, when it was ended, in May, 1960, in a Santa Monica divorce court. As was the custom in Spanish families, no matter where or for how long transplanted, Desi was the master of the house, from the beginning. The lesser star in the eyes of the public, he reigned supreme at home, to be waited on, catered to. Lucy said she loved it. But as both pursued the careers which kept them separated so much of the time, there were quarrels . . . reconciliations . . . quarrels. Lucy is not a girl who gives up easily. She was fired from more than one job when, at sixteen, she braved New York in an attempt to get a toe-hold in the big and wonderful world of show business. She refused to give up then; lived in a cheap furnished room and haunted neighborhood cafeterias, picking up left-over scraps of food to relieve that empty ache in her stomach. Later, when she was told she would never walk again, after an accident had struck her down, she was back modeling within two years. The same determination made her refuse to give up on her marriage. When Desi's Cuban temper exploded, Lucy clowned him out of it. Even when, in 1944, she got as far as the divorce court, she changed her mind before the final decree was handed down, determined to keep her marriage together. And, ten years after their civil ceremony, she went through a religious ceremony in the Catholic church of which Desi was a member. It was to save the marriage which both knew was tottering that I Love Lucy was born. With it came success, bigger than Lucy had ever dreamed of. She became America's darling, but what made her happiest was Desi's recognition as one of the most important and highly respected men in the then new and burgeoning field of television. There was all the fame . . . and all the acclaim. There were, at last, the children she had so wanted: Lucie Desiree, born in 1951, just four weeks before I Love Lucy was launched . . . and, two years later, with all the world waiting anxiously, Desi IV, whose birth has been set down in a new history book as one of the great emotional events of the last decade. What else is needed for a happy marriage? A house in Beverly Hills, staffed with efficient servants? A place in Palm Springs for weekends? A Cadillac to match a woman's blue eyes? They had them all . . . and more. But happiness does not consist only of fame and acclaim, of luxurious homes and furs and jewels and all the other things money can buy. It is not made up, always, even of children. Or of trips to Europe, or even of buying the entire movie studio where both were working when they met. As their empire grew, Desi became more and more immersed in work. And the harder he worked, the harder he played. In the summer of 1959, for the first time since I Love Lucy became television's top show, they did not vacation together. That Christmas, while Desi spent the holiday in Palm Springs, Lucy and the children were in Sun Valley. Their conversations, at least when others were present, were brief and business-like. Tension on the set increased. And, the day after she received a final screen kiss from her husband of nineteen years, Lucy gave up. When she appeared in court that day in May, she was a picture of unhappiness. The last three years, she testified, had been a nightmare. There were tears in her eyes and in her voice as she told something of their problems — enough to convince the judge divorce was the only answer. To outsiders, even to many of the people who knew them, Lucy seemed the reluctant one. The one who, though she had taken the decisive step, hoped deep down to win back her man. They divided all their possessions down to the last golf cart (for Desi) and the cemetery plot (for Lucy). There was little bitterness about the division — there were millions for both. And, while Desi carried on as head of their company, Desilu. Lucy buried herself in work. First came a movie, her first in five years, with Bob Hope. "Am I happy?" she said then, in answer to a reporter's question. "No. Not yet. But I will be. I've been humiliated. That's not easy for a woman." And while Desi worked and brooded and attempted to quench the flame of his torch with other girls ... in New York. Lucy was keeping her word. She had said that she would be happy. And, as the weeks and months went by, she was. . . . Made for fun and happiness, how can she miss? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JoeySanJoaquin Posted July 12, 2015 Report Share Posted July 12, 2015 Deri Artuu, ll??? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted July 12, 2015 Author Report Share Posted July 12, 2015 The text feature on where I am finding the articles screws up things sometimes. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Caewi Posted July 12, 2015 Report Share Posted July 12, 2015 Thanks for another great article. I appreciate all the hard work Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Luvsbway Posted July 12, 2015 Author Report Share Posted July 12, 2015 No problem. I enjoy the hunt finding them. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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