THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH was a George Axelrod–penned play, exploring the idea of how, after seven years of marriage, partners can develop an “itch” to experience sex with a person other than their betrothed. It told the story of Richard Sherman—a middle-aged, married man who is left alone for the summer while his wife and son go to the country. He works in publishing by day, and by night wiles away the hours in the company of his own far-fetched but relatively innocent imagination. However, all this comes to a climax when one evening he is almost killed on his terrace by a falling plant pot, innocently knocked off the balcony above by the beautiful single woman living upstairs.
She is The Girl—a woman with no name, not for reasons of mysteriousness but simply because George Axelrod could never decide on a perfect name for her. For the purposes of the story, the character is never referred to by name, though Axelrod later mused that in retrospect, perhaps he should have called her Marilyn. As soon as Richard sees The Girl, he becomes obsessed with imagining who she is and what kind of personality she may have. He invites her downstairs for a cocktail, and before she arrives, he goes through all manner of adventures in his head, including an exploration of his own masterful (but vastly overstated) prowess. When The Girl actually enters his apartment, Richard is shocked to discover that although young and seemingly naïve, she is actually quite experienced in the ways of the world and has posed nude in U.S. Camera magazine.
Suddenly, Richard’s imaginative thoughts turn to reality when events move on and the two spend the night together. By morning, however, he is almost paralyzed by the fear that his wife is going to find out and murder him in cold blood. He decides that the dalliance must never happen again, and heads out of New York to see his wife and deliver a yellow skirt she has forgotten to take on her trip.
When the play opened at New York’s Fulton Theatre on November 20, 1952, it did so to tremendous applause. Stars Tom Ewell and Vanessa Brown delighted critics and audiences alike, and the Axelrod script was shown to be a mix of lively entertainment and clever dialogue. J. Fletcher Smith, writing for The Stage, described it as a “riotously funny comedy” and made mention that despite the fact that the play was in three acts, Tom Ewell was onstage the entire time. “[He] has vaulted to the front rack of contemporary light comedians,” he wrote, before announcing that the play was clearly the smash hit of the season.
Writing for the New York Times, critic Brooks Atkinson concurred, recognizing that every part of Ewell’s performance was polished and fresh. The same amount of success came when The Seven Year Itch opened at London’s Aldwych Theatre on May 14, 1953. Starring Brian Reece as Richard and Rosemary Harris as The Girl, the Tatler declared it to be an “ingeniously amusing comedy.”
The original play even managed to name-check one of Marilyn’s friends in a scene where Richard shows an author the cover of the writer’s book. The picture depicts a man chasing a beautiful woman, which the writer—a humorless doctor—dislikes immensely, mentioning that the cover was supposed to depict a would-be attacker chasing a middle-aged woman. Instead, he complains, the victim looks more like actress Jane Russell, Marilyn’s costar in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
With the runaway success of the play, it wasn’t long before Axelrod’s script was touted as a film. Director Billy Wilder and producer Charles Feldman took up the challenge of turning it into a movie, but from the beginning it was going to be problematic. At its core, The Seven Year Itch is a sex comedy that pushes boundaries and shows that even a plain, middle-aged man can get into intimate scrapes if he puts his mind to it. This theme was fine for the liberal theater crowd, but the ferociousness of the movie censors was something else entirely. Wilder and Axelrod tried to push the dialogue as much as they could, but the censors decided that the story would need to be watered down considerably. So it was that by the time it went into production in the summer of 1954, the story no longer involved actual infidelity. Instead, Richard Sherman merely let The Girl stay in his apartment because she had no air-conditioning to beat the blistering summer heat. He then worried what would happen if his wife found out and thought they had slept together.
Of course, with the changing of this vital point in the story, the explanation of the Seven Year Itch theory changed too, and some wondered if the film could work at all. One of these was George Axelrod, who complained that his original story was supposed to show the hilarious reactions of Sherman when he felt guilty for cheating. Now that the actual cheating had gone, he was concerned that the entire story would make absolutely no sense.
Fortunately for all involved, the reworked script was actually hilarious, and showed the paranoid Sherman still feeling guilt, but mainly because of his active imagination. Added to the mix is a janitor who spots The Girl lounging in the apartment one evening and makes his own mind up as to what is going on there. His ability to arrive at the most inappropriate moments creates a real reason for Sherman to feel despair.
Even the character of The Girl was watered down for the movie. Whereas in the play, critics described her as being a potential schemer who didn’t worry about sleeping with married men, in the film that couldn’t be further from the truth. The Girl is shown as a sensitive, funny young woman, who only kisses Sherman in an attempt to show him how attractive he is to other women. She then sends him off to his wife, and innocently waves good-bye from the window.
A running theme throughout is Sherman’s preoccupation with a boat paddle that his wife has left behind by mistake. He knows his young son will need the item to have fun on his holiday so goes through numerous ways of trying to wrap it, including bandages and a brown paper bag. This prop proved to be far funnier than the yellow skirt mentioned in the play, and is a centerpiece of several humorous scenes.
While Marilyn was safely cast as The Girl, there were still numerous roles to fill. One of them came as quite a surprise when actress Roxanne (aka Dolores Rosedale) was given the part of Elaine, a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Sherman. Some months before, the outspoken woman apparently talked to columnist Earl Wilson about Marilyn. “She should take about fifteen pounds off her fanny,” she was quoted as saying, before adding that a girdle and bra were essential accessories too. When Wilson asked Marilyn if she had anything to say, she replied, “No comment,” but the statement had upset Joe DiMaggio quite considerably. While the two women would never be seen on-screen together, they did run into each other at a Seven Year Itch party in Manhattan. Marilyn remained calm and dignified, but when the opportunity arose, she evidently asked Roxanne about the statements. The actress was shocked that Marilyn was brave enough to bring the charges up and denied ever saying them.
The casting of the male lead in The Seven Year Itch caused a stir when executives could not decide who would be best to play Richard Sherman. The man should not be too good-looking, as the emphasis was always on the fact that he could pass for the man next door, not a movie star. At first, Billy Wilder was keen on actor Walter Matthau, whose lived-in looks made him a perfect choice. He was screen-tested and looked ideal for the part, but Fox was unwilling to invest in the actor due to his being a relative newcomer. Years later, he was asked about his feelings toward Marilyn. “I never worked with her, but if she’d lived, I think she would have been all right. She would have been President of the United States.”
It was suggested that Bill Holden be cast in the part, but Wilder balked at the idea, saying that the stunningly handsome actor just wasn’t right for the role and until he found someone who was, the picture would be stalled. At long last, Tom Ewell—the actor who played the role on Broadway a staggering 730 times—was asked to test. Having been in the play for so long, he knew Richard Sherman better than anyone else, and his performance in the test proved to be superb. Added to that, the actor most certainly did not have generic, film-star features, which made him even more ideal for the story. After some discussion between Wilder and Fox, Ewell was cast.
For Tom Ewell, the success of the play and now the opportunity to reprise the role on film was a dream come true. He had worked hard for many years but found it difficult to make a real name for himself in either theater or film. For a time, he had moved to Hollywood, but without much luck, so he moved back to New York City, where he went from theater to theater looking for a lead—any lead—that would end in a job. Between gigs he studied with various coaches and attended the Actors Studio on a regular basis. He took odd jobs, including washing dishes and selling cigarettes, but although he appeared in many plays over the course of his career, it wasn’t until The Seven Year Itch that Ewell truly felt successful.
While Marilyn was already a well-known and established star by the time The Seven Year Itch crossed her radar, the status of being given the part of The Girl was just as important to her. Ultimately, the experience would inspire her so much that her life would change beyond all recognition, and it is interesting that she was not the only one influenced that way. Once his time on the film was over, George Axelrod decided to move to Los Angeles so that he could have closer control over the adaptations of his plays. Even Tom Ewell’s wife was inspired by the movie, and told journalists that while her husband had always been a worrier like the character of Richard Sherman, she now hoped he could lighten up and cease the anxiety once and for all.
WHILE IN THE PLAY the mention of Jane Russell was dropped into a scene, in the film a mention of Marilyn was even more cleverly managed, thanks to the fact that The Girl has no name. In one scene, it is clear that Richard has no idea what she is called and stumbles over a botched-up introduction between her and the apartment janitor. Later, however, when his love rival enters the picture and asks who the blonde in the kitchen is, Richard replies, “Wouldn’t you like to know?! Maybe it’s Marilyn Monroe!”
Oddly enough, there were several parallels in the lives of Marilyn and The Girl. For starters, The Girl is a model/actress who has also posed seminude. We know this to be so when she shows Richard Sherman a saucy picture of herself in a copy of U.S. Camera. As we have seen, Marilyn herself was a successful model for several years and posed nude for Earl Moran and Tom Kelley. The subsequent calendar pictures ignited a scandal for Marilyn, which The Girl also says she experienced.
During a conversation with Sherman, The Girl complains about once living in a club, where she had to be in early and was restricted in what she could and could not do. As a starlet, Marilyn lived at the Hollywood Studio Club for a few years and shared the same feelings toward the strict rules and regulations. The Girl expresses her opinion that being married would be just as bad as living back at the club. Since Marilyn was struggling with the restrictions of married life to Joe DiMaggio, one can’t help but wonder if she felt the same way.
By the time shooting began, Marilyn’s relationship was coming undone at a furious rate. During the making of her previous film, There’s No Business Like Show Business, Joe had become jealous over her friendship with voice coach Hal Schaefer. He also disliked some of the scenes in the movie, particularly the “Heat Wave” number, which depicted Marilyn dancing with a group of men while wearing a skimpy costume. He detested living in Los Angeles and wanted desperately for the couple to return to San Francisco, settle down, and have children. The more time went on, however, the less this looked like a possibility.
While Marilyn was going through one of the most stressful times of her life as a result of her fractured marriage, her character of The Girl seemed to be having a ball: acting, modeling, dating, going to the cinema and out to dinner, and making her own decisions. Indeed, her biggest worry in the entire movie seems to be the lack of air-conditioning in her apartment—a problem that requires her to keep her undies in the icebox. In short, The Girl was living a fairly carefree life in Manhattan. She made it all look so wonderful.
When Marilyn flew into New York on September 9, 1954, for location filming on Itch, Joe did not arrive with her. Reporters eagerly pressed her to answer why, but all the actress would say was, “Isn’t that a shame.” There then followed a press party at the St. Regis Hotel, some time spent with friends, and DiMaggio arrived on September 12.
Any signs of trouble between the pair were kept well hidden. On walking into Sardi’s restaurant, the couple literally caused everyone to stop what they were doing and gape at them. Costar Tom Ewell was in attendance that evening and said he had never seen anything like it before. “Everybody worships this girl,” he told columnist Hedda Hopper. He then disclosed that before the end of the night, Joe DiMaggio had sought him out to reveal that he had seen The Seven Year Itch on Broadway and loved Ewell’s performance. The actor was thrilled.
The next few days were a flurry of activity. There were theater visits and photo sessions and even the opportunity to meet Italy’s biggest glamour star, Gina Lollobrigida. However, Marilyn was not in New York City to mingle; she was there to work. In that regard, the actress was filmed at an apartment window, where she waved and spoke to Tom Ewell, who was down on the sidewalk. Of course, word that Marilyn was in the vicinity soon spread to fans, and the street became packed with curious bystanders all trying to catch her attention. She did not fail to impress them and posed for amateur and professional cameras alike. These public shots were exciting, but they were nothing compared to what was to come on a dark New York street just days later.
“MARILYN MONROE IS HERE, shooting scenes for Twentieth’s Seven Year Itch.… May be seen at the 52nd and Lexington Trans-lux at 6 am Saturday.” It was a seemingly innocuous mention toward the end of the September 10, 1954, Walter Winchell column, and yet this would turn into legendary reporting from the famed gossip columnist. The time originally noted was wrong, but when it was corrected to the even earlier 2 a.m. of Saturday the fifteenth, 1,500 fans, photographers, and curious folk got out of bed, rushed to the normally nondescript corner, and craned their necks to see Marilyn Monroe in the flesh.
As the crowd watched the film crew set up, whispers quickly gathered pace. What was about to happen? Was Marilyn Monroe really going to make an appearance? The fans were curious, excited even, but not one person on that New York City street knew that they were watching history being made—the birth of an icon.
When Marilyn finally walked out into the night, it was like a thunderbolt had struck. She looked absolutely luminous. Fans cheered and clapped while the actress posed for anyone with a camera, though the snappers soon got on the nerves of Billy Wilder, who just wanted to get on with the scene. When he had first chosen the Trans-Lux Theater as a location, he apparently did so because he’d seen it at 2 a.m. and the whole street was somewhat quiet. Now that word had leaked, it was packed to the point of bursting. Still, he tried to ignore the chants and instead concentrated on the matter at hand—yelling “Action.”
Wearing a Travilla-designed, white pleated dress with a halter-neck top, Marilyn stepped onto a subway air vent, and whoosh! Her skirt flew up into the air, revealing long legs and white panties. The crowd was not expecting such a spectacle and went crazy. So much so, in fact, that Wilder had to strike a deal with them: if they could be quiet while the scene was shot, the camera would then be withdrawn and their photographs could be taken.
It didn’t quite work that way, however. Reporter Saul Pett was there to witness the event and noted that the scene required at least twenty takes, and every time the skirt blew up, fans “howled, whistled, and applauded.” When he got close enough to Marilyn to ask if she minded all the attention, she exclaimed, “Oh, I love it! I love it!”
One person who did not love it, however, was Joe DiMaggio. He took one look at the scene and turned on his heel. “Tell my wife I’ll see her back at the hotel,” he told friends as a film crew captured him stalking away in disgust. When Marilyn returned to her room later that evening, she did so knowing that her husband had greatly disapproved of the night’s spectacle. Over the years, many rumors have sprung up about what really happened that evening, with stories of Joe becoming violent and Marilyn deciding there and then to divorce him. Interestingly, drama coach Natasha Lytess quite contrarily stated that the room was firmly locked and the actress did not get inside at all. We can only speculate as to the private moments they shared in (or out of) that room, but it is worth pointing out that several friends reported a degree of violence during the entire marriage, not just on that particular evening.
The DiMaggios flew back to Los Angeles and Marilyn called in sick at the studio, claiming a cold. When reporters phoned the house, they were eager to know if the draft caused by the fans during the skirt scene was the reason for the illness. This, however, was laughed off by her doctor, who explained that Marilyn was suffering from a case of nervous exhaustion, brought on by the busy schedule of The Seven Year Itch.
In reality, the reporters weren’t far off the mark to think that the skirt scene was the cause of Marilyn’s absence, but at that point in time, no one knew just what kind of fallout it had created. When journalist Pete Martin later asked Marilyn if Joe had been furious or calm with the scene, she quietly replied, “One of those two is correct. Maybe you can figure it out for yourself, if you’ll give it a little thought.”
Ironically, the noise and fuss caused during the location shot in New York led to a retake on a Fox soundstage. The resulting scene was far more innocent than the one filmed on the street, and editing cut it down even more. In the end, anyone hoping to see Marilyn’s skirt fly high above her ears in the finished movie would be left disappointed.
Some fans asked if the scene had been shot more discreetly in the first place (or even left out altogether), would her marriage have imploded the way it did? The reality is that even if the scene had never gone ahead in front of an audience of thousands, the chances of the DiMaggio relationship surviving were pretty low. Marilyn was at the height of her career; she had enjoyed great success and was hungry for more. Joe, on the other hand, was a retired baseball player who was somewhat floundering between his past success and future career plans.
On the evening they met in 1952, Joe was the one who garnered attention from fans in the restaurant. Marilyn later remembered that they slapped him on the back and greeted him in such a way that she realized she was obviously in the company of a legendary man. Until that point, the actress had no interest in baseball and had barely heard of Joe DiMaggio. By 1954, however, it was Marilyn the fans wanted to see, and Joe did not appreciate that one bit. The two were headed in different directions, and there could be no possible outcome at that point in their lives except to divorce.
Earlier in 1954, columnist Earl Wilson had asked Marilyn if her career would intrude on her marriage. “Why should it?” she demanded. “I had my career when Joe and I met. He understands all that. I want him to have one now, a whole new one. He’s wonderful on radio and television. We’ll help each other…. A happy marriage comes before everything.” With that in mind, at the beginning of production on Itch, Marilyn had kept a copy of How to Cook Italian Foods in her dressing room and read it between takes. Just weeks later, it seemed like everything had changed.
Recovered from her illness and back on the set, Marilyn’s behavior was sometimes difficult to deal with. Tom Ewell said that during the marital problems, “she would slink off by herself, plainly miserable. I don’t think I ever felt more pity for anyone in my life.” Billy Wilder told Pete Martin that Marilyn seemed so upset and unconfident that he sometimes wished he was her psychoanalyst. He did note, however, that at no time during the entire shoot was she ever malicious to anyone on set.
It would be unfair to suggest that the marital problems were the sole reason there were various issues during filming. Historically speaking, making a movie with Marilyn was often fraught with difficulties, among them her lateness, anxiety, and stumbling over lines. Even worse was a reliance on acting coach Natasha Lytess, who would often take on the role of unofficial director, overriding production decisions whenever she saw fit. The teacher had driven numerous directors to distraction over the years, but she had never worked with Billy Wilder before, and he had an idea that she was completely oblivious to. Knowing that Natasha would take over the whole show if allowed to run free, Wilder devised a plan that would help everyone. Instead of allowing her to give Marilyn directions once the scene was shot, he would take Lytess to one side beforehand and explain what he would like the actress to do. The coach then took the instructions to Marilyn, and Wilder ultimately received his version of the scene and not Natasha’s.
Now that Marilyn’s marriage was in the midst of breaking down, a childhood stammer returned and she would often seem distant and in a world of her own. The fact that Marilyn had been able to make it onto the set at all was a miracle, considering what she was going through in her personal life, but with money firmly in their eyes, the studio bosses were not about to praise her bravery. Instead, they seethed over the actress’s holdups, and production executive Sid Rogell kept Zanuck up-to-date with every development. Everyone at the studio prayed that despite everything, the film would be finished successfully.
On September 27, just before Joe DiMaggio returned to the East Coast to cover the World Series, the couple decided to separate for good. They managed to keep it quiet for several days, but then word inevitably leaked out. On DiMaggio’s return to Los Angeles, he went back to the North Palm residence, but by this time the couple was on such bad terms that the house was divided. He took up residence downstairs while Marilyn remained in her upstairs bedroom.
On October 4, 1954, Marilyn’s lawyer, Jerry Giesler, served papers to the baseball star and then left the house to face a barrage of reporters waiting outside. These so-called “gentlemen of the press” acted disgracefully during days camped on the lawn of the DiMaggio home. Later, the Los Angeles Times complained that the scene played out like a rowdy film premiere, and one unnamed columnist actually kicked a powerful news anchor on the backside.
Giesler reassured reporters that Marilyn would not leave the house that day, but he’d try to arrange a press conference as soon as possible. According to the lawyer, his client was sick and not up to talking publicly at that time. He also added that Joe did not have any kind of legal counsel and that the charges would be mental cruelty, incompatibility, and a conflict of careers. No alimony would be sought, Marilyn was not pregnant, and the two remained friends. When asked if the skirt scene had anything to do with the decision to separate, Giesler steadfastly denied it. Instead, he said, the estranged couple had discussed their situation and come to an understanding.
When the couple did eventually leave the house separately, photographers recorded every moment. Joe DiMaggio went straight to his car, while Marilyn hung on to Giesler’s arm, tried to speak, and then began to cry. She was distraught, but being free from the stifling, pent-up atmosphere that had haunted her for months was ultimately liberating. Marilyn returned to the studio several days later, and was overheard telling her makeup man that she had finally had a good night’s sleep and felt “alive for the first time in days.” Meanwhile, Joe went to San Francisco for a short time, where he was greeted by reporters camped outside his front door. Unusually for him, DiMaggio actually invited the media into his home, where he explained that while he understood they had to ask such questions, he had absolutely no intention of speaking.
Some friends refused to believe that the marriage was actually over. Mark Scott, radio and television broadcaster and associate of DiMaggio, reported that the couple still appeared to be in love with each other. He described the situation as not irreconcilable and gave fans hope that there could be a halting of divorce proceedings. Joe’s brother Tom explained that he had been with him before the World Series. “There was no suggestion that anything was wrong,” he said. This was backed up by DiMaggio’s friend Reno Barsocchini, who claimed that everything was absolutely fine just a week before. According to him, Joe had been in San Francisco and had traveled back to Los Angeles to see Marilyn before planning a return to New York for work.
One reporter for the Bridgeport Telegram said that the separation had come like an “A-bomb…. There had been no hint of anything but harmony in the DiMaggio home.” This was wishful thinking at best, because Rex Barley, staff writer for the L.A. Mirror, was in the press box with DiMaggio for the World Series and described him as being exceptionally tense and quiet. “If you mentioned marriage, he was even more clam-like,” he said.
One person who was not shocked was Natasha Lytess. She had long hated Joe DiMaggio, and recalled an evening when the actress turned up at her door, disheveled and face puffy from crying. The couple had quarreled once again, and this time Marilyn begged Natasha to allow her to stay the night so that she did not have to return to North Palm. Shortly afterward, the couple separated and the drama coach breathed a sigh of relief. Calling him an “often morose baseball-star-with-muscles,” Lytess said that the couple had absolutely nothing in common and claimed to have once heard Marilyn shout at her husband in an effort to discover anything they might be able to do together. DiMaggio apparently replied that perhaps they could grow a little garden. Lytess said it was the most pathetic speech she had ever heard.
Nowadays, Joe DiMaggio’s desire to have a wife who did not work, stayed at home, cooked, and looked after him seems sexist and restrictive. However, it is important to remember that he was not living in the twenty-first century. In the 1950s, women were not expected to be ambitious. Instead, society predicted that they would leave school; seek employment somewhere like an office, factory, or shop; meet a nice young man; and get married and have babies. Many new wives gave up their jobs to take care of the home, and those who did not would likely stop working as soon as they started a family.
For an idea of the kinds of duties expected of a 1950s housewife, one does not have to look further than newspapers of the time. In one article by an unnamed “doctor,” a list of responsibilities included: bringing the husband his pipe, slippers, and newspaper; answering the front door; turning on the radio; making dinner; and of course, looking after the children. The “doctor” then gave a few tips for husbands to make their wife’s life easier. These included not allowing her to do housework in the evening, not keeping her waiting when food was on the table, occasionally making breakfast on the weekend, and always dealing with argumentative neighbors or tradesmen. This was necessary, according to the author, because men were better equipped for such matters. Women, it seemed, were just too sensitive to handle it.
In a 1955 issue of the Australian Women’s Weekly, there was a competition to win a new car. However, instead of the kind of trivia questions one would expect to answer today, the competition centered on “the qualities of an ideal wife and mother.” Each week, the magazine gave a list of elements that contributed toward “making a woman ideal for marriage.” These included cleanliness in the home, patience, sewing skills, personal attractiveness, and housework competence. The women contestants then had to choose twelve points they deemed most appropriate to their life in the home, and the winner would be decided by a panel of men.
This extraordinary article was by no means rare; in fact, it was the rule more than the exception to show women safely at home, cooking and cleaning. Advertisements during the 1950s confirm this ideal, often depicting women holding feather dusters and dressed in an apron while their husbands are chasing promotion in smart offices. Even presents were directed toward the household. What woman wouldn’t want a vacuum cleaner from her husband? “Christmas morning she’ll be happier with a Hoover,” claimed one seasonal ad.
Educational films aimed at newly married couples had an emphasis on what a wife’s role should entail. One such production, released by Coronet Instructional Films in 1951, presented a young couple going through various stresses over the course of one year of marriage. The wife was shown as having given up her job after the wedding to maintain a happy house for her husband. She spends her days cooking, cleaning, organizing bridge parties, and seething that her husband visits his mother too often. Ironically, the overriding theme was to demonstrate that a marriage is a partnership, but the subtext relied heavily on the idea that it could only ever be that way if a woman was willing to compromise herself.
It was not often that these ideals were questioned. This was confirmed in November 1954 when United Press sent out a questionnaire to the editors of 143 newspapers and magazines. They wanted to know what kinds of subjects their female readers were interested in reading about and then the answers were compiled into a survey. The results showed that while some women were keen to know about Marilyn’s views on marriage, others were apparently tired of hearing about her. The average woman was happy to learn about politics and education, but what she really wanted to know was how to be better at housekeeping, dressing well, and being attractive.
Occasionally a woman would buck the trend and decide that her life goal was not to wait for a man to come home from work. Although she later claimed to have offered to give up her career to save her marriage, in October 1954 Marilyn Monroe was the person wishing to get more out of her life. Joe DiMaggio could not give the support she needed, inflicted tight rules on how she should dress and behave, and wanted no part in her film career. In fairness, he was a fairly typical 1950s spouse; Marilyn Monroe, however, was not.
There were many issues that forced her hand in the breakup with DiMaggio, and during the divorce hearing on October 27, Marilyn mentioned some of them. There were weeks when her husband refused to speak, she said, and he would accuse her of nagging when she asked what was wrong. He had also caused her grievous mental suffering and anguish, and had refused to allow friends into their home. Her lawyer called it a “conflict of careers,” and neither party spoke about the rumors of domestic assault. DiMaggio was not in court and did not contest the separation, so the judge granted Marilyn a temporary divorce to be made final around a year later.
As she walked out of the courtroom and into her new life, another marriage was about to end in a far more tragic way. Santa Monica court reporter Mack Silbert was covering the Monroe/DiMaggio divorce, and his twenty-eight-year-old wife, Selma, asked if she could go along with him. The man agreed, and as Mack worked in the thick of the action, his wife sat at the back of the courtroom and observed Marilyn giving her testimony. No one will ever know what went through her mind as she watched the proceedings unfold, but at the end of the case, Selma Silbert calmly picked up her purse and walked to the nearby Bay Cities building. There, she was to meet her husband for lunch.
Instead of going to the restaurant, the woman walked up to the tenth-floor restroom. Once there, she opened the window as far as it would go, balanced herself on the windowsill, and threw herself out. She landed on top of an adjoining building, where she died instantly. When Mack Silbert arrived on the scene, he was so overcome with grief that he collapsed. Selma was his first wife and the mother of his two young children.
In newspapers the next day, it was stated that the woman had “been upset” and had tried to take her life on several occasions in the past. In reality, however, Selma was suffering from postpartum depression after giving birth to her last child just the year before. Her death was so traumatic to the family that it was rarely spoken about, and the fact that she had been watching Marilyn just moments before was never mentioned.
The diagnosis and treatment for postpartum depression during the 1950s was almost nonexistent. For women showing signs of it, the term “neurotic” was often bandied around, and in some cases, electric shock treatment was recommended. Tragically, because of the severe lack of understanding of women’s mental health, there was no hope for the young mother. While Marilyn obtained her freedom through divorce, Selma Lenore Silbert found hers in quite another way. There was just a two-month age difference between the women.
This was not the only time Marilyn’s name was used in the context of a tragic or depressing story. Another came almost three years later, when a young wife appeared in court to divorce her emotionally abusive husband. According to Mary Parks, her spouse continually humiliated her in private and in the company of friends because she did not look like Marilyn Monroe. With dark hair and a slim build, Mary was actually the complete opposite in appearance, and her husband allegedly reminded her of this on a constant basis. The stress and anxiety took its toll, and the woman lost even more weight before finally filing for divorce.
ON NOVEMBER 2, 1954, Marilyn was back on the set of The Seven Year Itch. There, she filmed a scene where the plumber (played by Victor Moore) is called to rescue The Girl from a dilemma: that of having her toe stuck up the bath faucet. The scene was a fantasy, imagined by Richard Sherman when he worries that The Girl will tell everyone about his unsuccessful attempt to seduce her on a piano bench. On hearing her story, the plumber was to drop his wrench into the tub and then go rifling around for it under the water. The scene was a funny one, but by the time the censors got hold of it, it was cut so that at no time was Victor Moore seen to drop the wrench, never mind grope around for it.
Just two days later, the film was finished, much to the relief of everyone involved. As director Billy Wilder recovered from the ups and downs of the shoot, he had the following to say to reporter Steve Cronin: “Working with Marilyn is not the easiest thing in the world, but it was one of the great experiences of my life. I have a feeling that this picture helped her in formulating an idea of what she herself is all about.”
He was correct. During the filming, twenty-eight-year-old Marilyn had been thinking earnestly about her future, the kind of roles she wanted to play, and how she was going to achieve her ambition. Shortly before the movie wrapped, she was asked by a reporter what she hoped 1955 would bring. “I wish to grow as an actress and a person,” she said. “That means this must be a year of hard work and study for me.”
Around the same time as the film wrapped, British photographer Baron arrived in Hollywood to take photos of fifteen different actresses. Marilyn was one of his choices, though when he took the first photograph, he wasn’t sure how it would turn out. He explained what happened to reporter Elizabeth Toomey: “Marilyn has a brassy smile she turns on for the cameras. But if you tell her to stop that you will find a truly amazing girl with great expression; great warmth.” He also described her and actress Pier Angeli as being the most exciting subjects he had ever photographed.
On November 6, 1954, Charles Feldman hosted a party in Marilyn’s honor at Romanoff’s restaurant, which had been a favorite hangout since her starlet days. When Feldman told her about the event, the actress’s first reaction was to worry about who to invite. Tom Ewell later recalled her saying that perhaps she could invite her costars from How to Marry a Millionaire (1953). She then borrowed a gown from the studio and drove herself to the party. According to the actor, the car broke down and she was late. Nevertheless, when she did eventually arrive, Marilyn made a huge impression on everyone she met. “Although she is personally shy and reserved,” explained Ewell, “she can turn on her personality so that you forget anyone else is present.”
Meanwhile, Marilyn’s favorite childhood actor, Clark Gable, made her day when he asked her to dance, though she would later regret not being brave enough to tell him how much she adored him. It didn’t take the newspapers long to declare (falsely) that the two were in love, a rumor that grew legs thanks in part to the release of a photograph of them dancing together. Just for good measure, it was also said that the actor had been sending Marilyn three dozen red roses every day. The fact that Gable was actually in a relationship with future wife Kay Spreckels (and that she was at the Romanoff’s party with him) was totally ignored by the press.
Everyone appeared to have a great evening, and even Darryl F. Zanuck managed to say a civil word and raise a smile or two. Meanwhile, actor Clifton Webb watched Marilyn intently as she moved from one table to another. “She was an absolutely perfect hostess,” he recalled. “Here was a girl who behaved so much more like a lady than many ladies.” Groucho Marx—who had given her a break in Love Happy (1949)—was one of the guests, and told reporter Hedda Hopper that Marilyn looked like the front page of a good magazine. “I looked like the back,” he quipped.
Marilyn swept around the room like a member of royalty, greeting everyone she met and accepting dances from several of her male friends. If there was ever a moment when she felt like the Queen of Hollywood, this must surely have been it. However, underneath the red velvet gown and platinum hairstyle, everything was not as it seemed. Marilyn had reached her peak on the West Coast and felt that it had no more to offer. While everyone admired the star as she danced, no one had any idea that she was about to give it all up. Marilyn, the Queen of Hollywood, was an illusion, and a new woman was about to be born.