Marilyn Monroe (38 page)

Maureen: ‘We jumped out from behind the hedges and asked for her autograph. She said she would have to check with her husband. She then said something to Arthur Miller and very sweetly told us that her husband said she could not do this or everyone would be at their house trying to get an autograph.’

Stephanie: ‘I know we asked – pleaded – for her autograph; told her we had walked so very far; but to no avail. I do recall her saying in that breathy voice of hers that we were “so sweet”. I do remember the long walk back – empty handed – but elated. Considering that we had barged in on her I think Miss Monroe was exceedingly kind to us!’

Eventually, Marilyn and Arthur settled into a normal and happy existence in their summer home: in the morning they would both take a walk with Hugo, then Marilyn would often run errands in town, visiting Toppings to do her shopping, and occasionally talking to the locals. In the afternoon, Arthur would sit in the garden and write, while his wife would water the plants or tend to the flowers: ‘I planted some seeds that grew, and to my amazement I had flowers,’ she later said.

For the first time in her adult life, Marilyn was able to lead a quiet existence away from career problems and business affairs, and she relished the simplicity of it all. She occasionally went horse-riding, wrote poetry and even took delight in trying her hand at watercolour paintings, some of which she gave to the Strasbergs. Sometimes Miller’s children would visit with his parents, or the Rostens would drop by; while at other times they’d spend hours at the beach, walking, holding hands and paddling in the surf. It was during one of these excursions that Marilyn discovered some fish washed up on the shore, and refusing to let them die, scooped each one up and popped it back into the sea.

The time in Amagansett was joyful for Marilyn; taking things easy, enjoying her privacy and most of all relishing a secret – she was expecting a baby. Although the couple were ecstatic, they
decided not to make an announcement right away, but two old ladies apparently noticed ‘a look’ about her whilst she was doing chores in the Post Office and even went so far as to congratulate her. Marilyn, obviously embarrassed, mumbled something before making a hasty retreat, but her reaction was enough to confirm their thoughts and the rumour spread around town within days.

1957 was a year of very few public appearances: Marilyn had attended the premiere of
Baby Doll
early in the year, kicked out the first football during a soccer match on 12 May and attended the premiere of
The Prince and the Showgirl,
but apart from that she had laid low. Even the doormen in New York commented that for the most part, the only time they ever saw the Millers was when they walked their dog, Hugo. However, another appearance was scheduled on 2 July, when Marilyn was to meet Laurence S. Rockefeller in New York for an inauguration ceremony at the construction site of the Time-Life Building.

Scheduled to appear at 11 a.m., Marilyn failed to show up until 1.20 p.m., by which time Rockefeller had had enough. ‘I’ve never waited that long for anyone,’ he was heard to mutter, as he stormed from the site. When she finally appeared wearing a pink and white dress, Marilyn blamed her lateness on her anniversary celebration the night before: ‘Oh was I sick,’ she complained. ‘We celebrated with champagne, but instead of it going to my head it went to my stomach.’

During this short trip, Marilyn was given a tour of the
New York Times,
where author Carl Schlesinger worked at the time as a Linotype machine operator in the composing room: ‘When tourists came through our department the foreman had designated me as the official “explainer” as to how the complicated but fascinating Linotype typesetting machine worked. I gave Marilyn the “gold-plated” demonstration of the machine, ending in my giving her a warm Linotype bar of type, freshly cast with her name on the surface. Marilyn seemed interested so I explained and at the end of my demonstration she thanked me and leaned over me (I was seated and she was standing), and kissed me on top of my balding head. Several of my co-workers,
who had been watching “the show”, broke out into applause. I didn’t wash my head for a week!’

When Marilyn moved on to another department, Schlesinger started to regret not being able to give Marilyn something other than a simple cast of her name. A few days later he went to a coin store and bought an uncirculated 1926 penny, which he cast into the side of another lead bar bearing her name, then sent it off to her. ‘Months passed and I forgot all about the incident, then one day the
Times
mailroom sent a letter addressed to me from Miss Monroe. She apologized for the long delay in answering my note and gift, and thanked me for thinking of her.’

After the success of the short New York trip, Marilyn returned to Amagansett to enjoy the rest of the summer and rest. Unfortunately, her joy at being pregnant was short-lived, when on the morning of 1 August 1957, she collapsed in the garden whilst tending to her plants. Miller was in the house at the time and an ambulance was called.

Amagansett local Edward Damiecki was with the ambulance crew when they arrived at the Miller home, and afterwards he told his brother John that when they tried to put Marilyn on the stretcher, she spat in the driver’s face. This act was one of anguish and despair; having been bombarded with stories of ‘women’s problems’ by her foster family for many years, Marilyn was acutely aware that something was very wrong.

By the time the Millers and her doctor arrived at the hospital, Marilyn was covered from head to toe in a blanket, and in great pain. The townspeople of Amagansett gathered in the grocery store, and it was not long before they heard the news they dreaded: Marilyn had lost the baby.

It had been discovered that the foetus was growing in the fallopian tube, rather than the uterus, and in order to save the life of the mother, it was removed by an emergency operation. Marilyn’s doctor, Hilliard Dubrow, announced that she had been five or six weeks pregnant but it was too early to detect if the lost baby was a boy or girl. He could see no further difficulties should she decide to try again.

In the hospital, Marilyn was devastated and in great pain, after needing a blood transfusion during the operation. On 2 August Miller released a statement that read in part, ‘Marilyn wants as many [children] as she can get. I feel the same way,’ and then on 10 August she finally left the hospital, walking slowly and wearing the same pink dress she had worn during her appearance at the Time-Life Building. It was a distressing experience; footage is gut-wrenching to watch, and shows Marilyn in full make-up, smiling and making comments such as ‘I’m feeling wonderful’ to waiting reporters. When asked what her future plans were, she answered, ‘I definitely still plan to have a large family. I’m going to rest, rest and more rest.’ God only knows how quickly the smile fell from her face as the ambulance door finally closed.

Marilyn was reluctant to return to the summerhouse in Amagansett, and when she did go back, something was very different. Gone was the happy girl who greeted the locals, and in her place was a nervous young woman who would not speak to other customers in the Post Office, and was rumoured to drink a lot. Even her relationship with Miller’s family became strained when his mother came to visit the couple, only to find Marilyn distant and suspicious of her; she cut short her visit and returned to New York.

Local farmer John Damiecki remembered one episode that occurred after the Millers’ return to Amagansett: ‘I would be in my potato fields when Marilyn would ride her horse through the field. She was never in any hurry and I would have to stop work in order to let her through. One time Marilyn was riding through the field and she was drunk and fell off the horse. My brother and I had to catch the horse and Arthur Miller walked it back to the house. He came back and invited us up to the house and when we got there he said, “Marilyn, John is here,” but she paid no attention – she was out of it by then.’

There were reports too that Marilyn had tried to overdose either in the Amagansett home or at her 57th Street apartment; luckily Miller was there to prevent the incident becoming fatal, but the emotional scars were everywhere apparent.

After spending the rest of the summer in Amagansett, the Millers returned to their 57th Street apartment and tried hard to pick up the pieces after the miscarriage and overdose. ‘I’m almost well again,’ Marilyn told reporter Bob Thomas. ‘I don’t have all my energy back but it’s returning bit by bit.’ The couple also met architect Frank Lloyd Wright who was known for his ‘organic architecture’, and commissioned him to design a huge family home on the land connected to their Roxbury house: ‘He’ll go with us the next time he’s in town. We’ll need a house with plenty of room. We have two children [Jane and Bobby Miller] and there’ll be plenty more.’

The plans drawn up by ninety-year-old Wright are a wonder to behold. Drawing inspiration from a home he had designed in 1949, he drew up blueprints for a huge house which included a large domed living room, library, luggage room, storeroom, gallery, dining room, kitchen, breakfast room, conservatory, card room, dressing room, outdoor swimming pool, servants quarters, guest rooms, costume room, children’s room, sewing room, dressing room and much more. The unique feature was the domed living room that had three tiers, each slightly lower than the other, with a large crystal chandelier, glass walls and a movie screen. Showing that babies were still very much on the agenda, the home also came with ramps instead of stairs, and a large nursery.

When she told reporter Radie Harris about the house, she seemed bright and happy, but in the end the plans were dropped and the Millers instead continued to remodel the existing farmhouse, adding a garage and studio for Miller, and also building a nursery. ‘We do long so much for a child, but that will come I’m sure,’ she later said. ‘I look at our house, and I know that it has been home for other families, back through all those years. And it’s as if some of their happiness has stayed there even after they went away, and I can feel it around me.’ The history of the home and its previous owners was something Marilyn was intrigued by, and when she found an autograph book in the attic with the signature of General Grant in it, she was intrigued and enjoyed the thrill of wondering if it was authentic.

Meanwhile, she was buoyed to hear that her mother, Gladys Baker Eley, was showing relatively good progress at Rockhaven Sanitarium. News came that not only did she take part in a Christmas bazaar at the home, but had also presided over the refreshments stand, arranging cookies and sandwiches on a tray and showing off a candy wreath that she had made herself. Inez Melson, Marilyn’s former business manager and Gladys’ guardian, also sent Marilyn a Christmas gift of four table mats, which were made by her mother on the Rockhaven loom, and reported that not only was she the only resident to use it, but she was now working on a rug for her room.

Marilyn was glad hear that her mother was showing improvement, though she knew their relationship could never be a close one, no matter how well she became. Marilyn would continue to pay for her mother’s treatment (although on several occasions the payments were extremely late in coming), but would never see her again. ‘Marilyn purposely stayed away because her mother would become very upset,’ Melson later said.

1958 started in much the same vein as 1957: weekdays in New York and most weekends and holidays in the country. It was around this time that a young artist by the name of Tom Tierney (who would later go on to write the successful
Marilyn Monroe Paper Dolls
book) met Marilyn and Arthur whilst living in a loft on First Avenue, New York: ‘My neighbors on the top floor were Jack Hamilton and Charles Schneider. One was the movie editor for
Look
magazine and the other the movie editor for
Life.
They had made their loft into a very elegant apartment with a wonderful view. After a few weeks I noticed that on each Saturday they seemed to be throwing a party and I asked [my friend] Shirley about it. She told me that actually they were holding interviews for actors and movie stars who wanted to be featured in their particular magazines.’

Eventually Tom was asked if he’d like to help out at the interview parties and as such he occasionally worked as a greeter, making sure everyone coming into the apartment was comfortable and had drinks. One day there was a knock at the door,
which Tom went to answer. He remembered: ‘There stood Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller! Marilyn was a very quiet girl and Miller did all the talking, holding court for all and sundry. They came on several occasions so that I finally felt comfortable chatting with them, especially Marilyn.

‘One day, in the middle of the week, I had cleaned up my studio and was carrying a couple of large paper bags full of crumpled paper, pencil shavings, and other debris down the stairs to put in the garbage cans in front of the building, when I was suddenly face to face with Marilyn coming up. Because my arms were full she couldn’t get past me and she sweetly said, “Here Honey, let me help carry your packages down for you.” I am probably the only fellow in the world who ever let Marilyn Monroe carry out his garbage! She was definitely a sweetheart . . . and I’ll never forget our brief acquaintance.’

But while Marilyn was happy to potter around New York, she was also beginning to think about work too. ‘My Marilyn Monroe Productions company is all set to start things going in a big way,’ she later said, and she wondered whether she should do a remake of the Marlene Dietrich movie,
Blue Angel.
In the end though the decision was made for her when she read a brief outline of a movie entitled
Some Like it Hot,
which Billy Wilder was in the process of writing. He was writing the screenplay with Marilyn in mind, and told her that if she liked it, he would finish it for her. ‘So I read it, and I loved it,’ she later said, and agreed to do the film without even reading the rest of the script.

Her instincts were right.
Some Like It Hot
was to be a box-office smash and all-time great. Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis shone in the parts of Daphne and Josephine, male musicians disguised as women in order to escape the unwanted attentions of the Mafia, while Marilyn had never been funnier, her innocence of character gelling with the roughness of Josephine and Daphne perfectly. (However, Marilyn herself was slightly disappointed in the outcome of the movie. In an unidentified interview in 1960, she declared that she thought the film was ‘all right’ but would have cut it differently, insisting that, ‘I
thought I did some of the scenes better than the ones that were kept in.’)