Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

The Ghost That Haunts Marilyn Monroe (Continued from page 19) drama coach on the set with her every minute — all these elements have given Marilyn the title of "The Most Difficult Star in Hollywood." As for her personal life, there's the mess she made of her marriage to baseball star Joe DiMaggio, her unhappiness over her inability to bear children today, her rejection of good friends — never answering their telephone calls, refusing to see them socially. Misery? When she's a top star, earns millions with every movie? When she's found a husband whom she adores and has his children to help look after? When she's found success in her work and happiness in her home life?What is it, then, that's really bothering her? There is a ghost that lurks in the dark corners of Marilyn's mind, a ghost that's haunted her from the days of her childhood. To understand the ghost we must go back, way back to the day of Marilyn's birth. She was born Norma Jean Mortenson on June 1, 1926, in Los Angeles General Hospital, and her mother was Gladys Monroe Baker. Her father, Ed Mortenson, was a shady character who loved women promiscuously; and, as soon as they announced the news to him that they were with child he'd vanish, never to be heard from again. Everyone who knew Marilyn's mother insists that Gladys Baker didn't love Ed Mortenson. He was one of many fly-bynight lovers, for Gladys Baker had the failing of falling in love with men who ran out on her. Ed Mortenson was an irresponsible man whose only pleasures in life were fast motorbikes and fast women. He married in Norway in 1917, deserted his family in 1923, came to the United States and wandered about on his motorcycle, loving whatever women he chanced upon and ditching them as soon as they were pregnant. On June 18, 1929, he was killed in a motorcycle accident near Youngstown, Ohio, when he crashed headon into a Hudson sedan. Marilyn never met her father; all she knew of him was that he was a lazy man, a baker by trade. When Ed Mortenson ran out on Gladys Baker, she tried to locate him but she couldn't track him down. Alone, unwanted, rejected, Gladys Baker lavished her love for a while on baby Norma Jean. For support, Gladys worked as a negative cutter at a film studio lab (it's a known fact that if it weren't for a collection taken among her fellow employees, Gladys Baker wouldn't have had the money to pay the doctor for Norma Jean's birth). Sharp whispers There were sharp whispers among her neighbors, among her co-workers, about Norma Jean's illegitimacy, but Gladys remained defiant and undaunted those first two years, even occasionally brought Norma Jean to work with her. Baby Norma Jean was the spit-and-image of her mom, and she sat by her side while Gladys inspected the negatives for quality. Then, during the shattering starvation months of the terrible depression, Gladys Baker became sick. Not physically ill with a fever or cold. But moody, easily depressed, lax about everything, not even caring sufficiently to look after her own beloved child. Her friends lectured her, tried to get her to snap out of her awful state of mind, but Gladys ignored their talk. She told Grace McKee, a friend and co-worker, that she was "fed up with everybody." A true friend and a kind soul, Grace McKee moved in with Gladys to help her and to look after Norma Jean. She tried to pick up Gladys' dejected and downhearted spirits by dragging her and Norma Jean to the fancy premieres at Grauman's Chinese Theatre to gape at the slick and dazzling box office stars: Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, Janet Gaynor and Gary Cooper, Greta Garbo and Tom Mix. On Sunday afternoons she'd take Norma Jean and her mom for walks through Beverly Hills to stare at the pink stucco palaces of the movie stars. Norma Jean nearly burst from excitement as Aunt Grace took them sightseeing through Hollywood, but Gladys grew more and more depressed, talking to no one, refusing to work, cursing the world that she'd been cheated of a decent and good life. One summer evening at the shabby Baker apartment. Aunt Grace and Norma Jean were pasting photos of movie stars from the magazines in a dime-store scrapbook. "Someday," Grace told Norma Jean, "you're going to be somebody important, you're going to grow into a beautiful girl and a talent scout will find you and make you into the most glamorous movie star ever!" Norma Jean trembled with inner joy over Grace's dream. "Mommy, mommy," she called out, "did you hear what Aunt Grace said?" Her mother didn't answer. She sat in a chair by the kitchen table, slumped, mumbling something to herself. "Isn't that right, Gladys?" Grace McKee called out in her sweet soprano voice. "Isn't our Norma Jean going to be a big star someday?" Gladys didn't reply. "Why don't we fix some supper?" Grace suggested cheerfully, a hint of nervousness in her voice. Gladys remained slumped in her chair. She didn't lift a finger to help. Grace fried some eggs and browned a couple of potatoes, and when they all sat down to the square, oilcloth-covered table to eat, Gladys sat there, immobile, not lifting a fork to her mouth. "Mama," Norma Jean chided, "your food's going to get cold." "Let it freeze," her mother snarled. "Gladys!" Grace reprimanded. "That's no way to talk at the table." "The hell it isn't," Gladys yelled. And she got up and opened a drawer in the enameled kitchen cupboard, grabbed a gleaming butcher knife and lunged at Grace. "You're . . . you're trying to poison me, that's what!" she screamed out. Norma Jean let out a bloodcurdling yell, Grace George Burns tells me Gracie Allen won't miss her TV audience because she never knew there was one. "She concentrated so much on her acting," George said, "that one day about a year and a half after we'd been on TV, she said, 'George, what's that red light doing on the camera?' I told her ifd always been there. She said, 'Well, I don't want it. It bothers me.' I said, 'It didn't bother you for a year and a half!' " Anyway, the red lights were taken off the cameras— so Gracie wouldn't be reminded she was on the air. Earl U'ilsov in the New York Post ducked and began running in circle around the room with Gladys Baker chas ing after her. 'You . . . you want to ge rid of me so you can have Norma Jea: all to yourself!" Gladys shrieked, lungin: \ after Grace again to stab her with th sharp point of the knife. Grace reached out for Norma Jean hand, and the two of them ran out of th house. She phoned the police for help and when the policemen arrived they tic Gladys in a strait-jacket and took her p the hospital where the doctors found he mentally deranged. Grace's difficult decision Grace McKee was then confronted wit! a dilemma. She was not, as Gladys Bake alluded in her hallucinations, a selfis] woman. On the contrary, she was selfles£ giving generously of her time and love t Gladys and Norma Jean who needed out side help. And since Grace worked dining the day at the motion picture studio and couldn't take care of Norma Jea: ] during her working hours, she had to hav the child decreed a legal ward of Lo f Angeles County when Gladys Baker wa declared insane. At the age of four, Norma Jean wa I placed in her first foster home, a farnj south of Hollywood where she was treate^ like a miserable slave. The penny-pinch ing farmer and his wife worked Norm Jean to the bone, and, in the evenings they had her learn long, complicate! prayers of redemption and salvation. The were wild religious fanatics, and if Norm Jean didn't chant hour-long prayers be fore bedtime she was beaten. Every two weeks a follow-up check wa ; made by an arrogant social worker wb never paused to ask Norma Jean an questions about her life at the farm. A the social worker checked was Norm Jean's shoes to see whether or not ther were any holes in the soles. Norma Jean's only happiness, her onl relief from the drudgery of slave labo | she was forced into as a child, was goin to the "picture show" on Saturday after | noon. The farmer and his wife would giv her a quarter and tell her to stay in th movie house until it closed. Then, aftej they'd finish their Saturday shopping they'd come by and pick her up. There were other foster families. On was an English couple who boozed ever night and held rowdy gambling partie until the wee hours. Eight-year-old Norm Jean prayed for their souls as she fixe' their dinner and did the dishes. Whenever Norma Jean asked about he mother, she was told "Mumsie" was sicl Neighborhood children who had gotte wind of her mother's illness pointed Norma Jean on the street, and, in hushe voices, whispered that "her mother's th one who's in the crazy house!" One Sunday afternoon, when she de cided to run around the block just fo fun, one of the boys, loafing along th street, pointed at Norma Jean and crie out, "Where you running to?" Norma Jean, in a printed halter an' rolled-up blue jeans, laughed. "Nowheri special. Just running around for fun!" But one of the boy's buddies interruptec cruelly commenting, "Let her alone. Don you know she's crazy just like he mother? She doesn't know what she' doing half the time!" Crazy just like her mother! The word tore at her insides like a raw, blisterin wind. She knew her mother was crazj Was she going to be crazy, too? For weeks the words haunted Norm Jean. She didn't tell anyone about then but the threat tortured her heart. Ever waking moment she prayed for her mothe to get well, to (Continued on page 50