WHILE SETTING UP HER film company was momentously important for Marilyn, she also knew that if she was going to do great work, she needed a solid foundation from which to start. This meant exploring acting techniques that were new and fresh, and walking away from existing coach Natasha Lytess. In the past, the firing of Lytess has often been regarded as a cold, uncaring decision on Marilyn’s part. However, before judging her action, it is important to understand the nature of the relationship and the kind of person Lytess was.
Marilyn first met the woman in 1948, during her six-month tenure under contract to Columbia Pictures. Lytess was a teacher there and was asked to help the young actress with her voice and dramatic training. She recognized straightaway how nervous Marilyn was, but instead of giving her confidence and putting her at ease, Lytess recoiled at the sound of her voice. “She was in a shell,” she said. “She couldn’t speak up. She was very inhibited. I had to ask her not to talk at all. Her voice got on my nerves. She’d say, ‘all right, thank you, g’bye.’ I taught her to let go.” It is worth noting that this insulting comment was not given to the press after their association ended, but in 1952, when they were still working together. Natasha Lytess never had any qualms about telling people about her famous client, and to say she thought herself totally responsible for her career would be an understatement.
Marilyn wasn’t the first or the last student who had problems with Lytess. In 1951, actor Fess Parker had an unfortunate run-in with her that was not dissimilar to the one Marilyn had a few years before. He told the Los Angeles Times that Lytess had asserted that he was “practically un-coachable,” and while she mellowed slightly by telling the young actor that he had a certain quality, she never did explain what she meant by the enigmatic remark.
Lytess later claimed to be totally unimpressed with the young Monroe, and declared her to be not at all beautiful. In fact, she made it plainly obvious that she considered Marilyn to be beneath her in both status and talent. “Her face was as wooden as a ventriloquist’s dummy…. She was tense and apprehensive, utterly unsure of herself. Unable even to take refuge in her own insignificance.” Lytess was jealous that she had never achieved great success as an actress herself, and was somewhat obsessed with the young starlet in her care. Lytess maintained that while Marilyn insisted she be on film sets with her at all times, the coach actually felt uncomfortable to be there. This would be far more convincing if not for the fact that Lytess took over the entire set of every production she worked on, as attested by many a director over the years.
Sitting next to the director, the coach could be seen copying everything Marilyn did before the camera. Then the moment the director cried “Cut,” she would often clench her fists, shout her disapproval of what had just occurred, and then rush to Marilyn’s side to tell her what she had done wrong. She would also act as something of an unofficial (and unappointed) manager, who enjoyed telling reporters that they could go through her for an interview with Marilyn.
At one point the two women shared a house (along with Lytess’s daughter and a maid) so that they could practice all day, every day. While in theory this was good for preparation, it also meant that Marilyn had little freedom and even less privacy. Lytess would often grow jealous and resentful of relationships Marilyn had with men, but the actress tolerated this aspect of her personality because she wanted help with her acting studies. The arrival of Joe DiMaggio in 1952, however, caused the first cracks to form in their relationship, since Lytess hated his presence in Marilyn’s life and he was in no hurry to leave.
Another problem was the coach’s obsession with publicity. Over the years of working with Marilyn, she would speak about her openly to any reporter who asked. Just days before the beginning of The Seven Year Itch, she even appeared on the television show What’s My Line as Marilyn’s coach. One must wonder if she had obtained her student’s permission before signing up to do the program. By the end of 1954, when Marilyn was getting ready for her move to the East Coast, she finally took the decision to leave Lytess behind in Los Angeles. Perhaps predicting a dramatic reaction, she did not tell the coach that she was actually fired; instead, she kept quiet and hoped Lytess would figure it out for herself. She did not.
By March 1955, the drama teacher was still in the dark and columnist Hedda Hopper was eager to talk to her about it. Asked if she had been contacted by her errant student, Lytess said she had heard “not a peep.” She was worried, she said, because the time was right to follow up The Seven Year Itch with “more fine pictures.” Perhaps in a misguided attempt to create a reaction from Marilyn, Lytess was quick to tell Hopper that she was now teaching two other actors: Jeff Hunter and Virginia Leith.
Eventually Natasha Lytess woke up and realized that Marilyn was not going to come back. In retaliation, it did not take her long to contact reporters about their relationship. In an article entitled “The Storm About Monroe,” writer Steve Cronin interviewed various people on the subject of how Marilyn had changed from Hollywood glamour girl to dramatic actress. One of the people he spoke to was an unnamed woman, described as “one of the few women in Hollywood who has worked with Marilyn closely for many years.” Since Natasha was the only one who fit the description, it can be assumed that the quote came directly from her. “I have come to the conclusion,” she said,
that Marilyn Monroe doesn’t know her own mind. I can’t tell you how unhappy she was while she was married to DiMaggio. She felt closed in, a prisoner in her own house. She felt that Joe never would come to understand either her or show business. Her months of marriage to DiMaggio, despite all the fairy tales, were months of misery.
When she divorced Joe, I know she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her heart. She and Joe had nothing in common. She told me this a dozen times if she told me once. Marilyn has had very few friends in her life. Because of her sex appeal, women are afraid of her. The men she has known usually have been instrumental in helping her career. Joe was not one of these and she let him go…. What does all this mean? Does anyone really know where Marilyn is going? What does she want? What sort of woman has she become?
It is unrecorded as to what Marilyn’s feelings were toward Natasha’s outbursts, but certainly during the early months of 1955, her mind was on other matters. After she’d lived for a while with the Greenes, it was felt by all parties that Marilyn needed a base in the city as well. So it was that on January 19 she moved into New York City’s Gladstone Hotel, a private space paid for by business partner Milton Greene, as per his contractual agreement. Despite the end of her marriage to Joe DiMaggio, he was seen helping Marilyn move into the hotel and then eating with her at various locations around town. Rumors swirled that the two were about to be reunited, especially when she met him in Boston while on a business trip to see a possible Marilyn Monroe Productions investor. The investment did not go ahead, but the visit nevertheless managed to garner headlines.
As the couple left a restaurant in the company of his brother and sister-in-law, journalists pounced and asked if this was a reconciliation. Joe looked at his ex-wife and asked if it was, to which Marilyn replied, “Well just call it a visit.” This was obviously not the answer the baseball player was looking for, because as soon as they got away from the reporters, he dropped her off at her hotel and headed to the home of his sister-in-law’s parents. The next day journalists managed to track Joe down and interviewed him on the doorstep, Joe still wearing his bathrobe. When asked again about the reconciliation, he shrugged. “There is none,” he replied.
In the end, any hope of the couple getting back together was a figment of the media’s imagination. Joe might have seemed rather keen on the idea, but Marilyn was adamant that she was now single and would stay that way. As happy as she was to be on friendly terms with her ex-husband, the brutal divorce and events leading up to it were still fresh wounds. For now, there would be a friendship between the pair, but it was strictly on Marilyn’s terms; she was firmly in control.
On January 25, she was happy to accompany Joe to see him elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. This meant a lot to the former baseball star, and for once he was talkative to the reporters who wanted to know about it. “You can bet I’ll be there with flying colors,” he said. “I’m very excited about this. And I’m especially happy because it will mean so much to my son, Joe Junior.”
January 26 arrived and Marilyn gave an interview to author George Carpozi Jr. and took part in an accompanying photo shoot in her suite at the Gladstone. The chat was candid and the two ended up walking arm in arm through Central Park as Marilyn told the story of her life. Carpozi would treasure the memories of meeting the actress, and later compiled everything he remembered into a book, one of the earliest ever written about Marilyn and one she had in her own collection.
Through author Truman Capote, Marilyn was introduced to teacher Constance Collier, a British Edwardian actress who had moved to Hollywood in the 1920s. There, she taught students how to transition from silent movies to talkies and acted in a few herself. By 1955 she was settled in New York, and it was there that Marilyn became her student. At first Collier had little interest in meeting the actress because the only knowledge she had of her was through the grand buildup of publicity Marilyn had received since the beginning of her career.
She did not know how she would take to the blonde icon, but after speaking to her for the first time, Collier soon realized that Marilyn was actually a fragile talent. “My special problem” was how she described the actress to Capote. Together they studied the character of Ophelia from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and when Collier spoke to Greta Garbo about it, the great Swedish actress suggested maybe she and Marilyn could work together one day. This must surely have thrilled Marilyn, since she was a great fan of Garbo as a woman and an actress.
Sadly, the relationship with Collier did not survive past a few months, since the woman’s health deteriorated and she passed away in April 1955. Marilyn never forgot the great work they achieved in class, however, and attended her funeral with Capote.
CREATED IN 1947 BY Elia Kazan, Cheryl Crawford, and several others, the Actors Studio was one of the most prestigious acting institutions in the United States. A common misconception was that it was a formal acting school, but actually the studio was run in the style of a workshop and attended by actors who were required to audition in order to gain full membership. Once in the door, students could congregate, work on scenes, receive emotional guidance, correct errors, and solve problems. Most of the actors had already received some kind of training elsewhere and were now looking for a kinship, a safe place to learn emotional—rather than technical—training.
In 1951, teacher Lee Strasberg took charge of the studio, and his wife, Paula, was frequently by his side. A staunch supporter of Konstantin Stanislavski, Lee and several other teachers had taken inspiration from the System technique and evolved it into the Method, which was what the Actors Studio became infamous for. The aim was to enable actors to relax into their parts, by digging deep into their own emotions and memories. This would allow them to bring up personal episodes that would give a better understanding of the acting role.
The process was a deeply personal and even spiritual experience, and as such, it became highly controversial to those actors who preferred a more technical approach. Method director Charles Marowitz wrote about the problem in 1958, explaining that it was all just a question of balance. “No Method-man from Stanislavski onwards has ever contended that [the Method] dismisses the need for vocal and kinesthetic competence.” In fact, he assured readers, Stanislavski himself said that the Method (or the System, as it was called in his day) was really there to inspire actors to develop styles and processes of their own.
Lee Strasberg actually understood that the Method wasn’t a good choice for everyone, and that every actor required different tools to solve their problems. However, he was determined that the work done at the studio would be of great assistance to those who needed it. He also desperately wanted to provide the kind of support that the general American theater did not—the kind of emotional stability and variety that repertory theatre gave actors in Great Britain.
Actress and student Kim Stanley was determined that those who balked at Strasberg’s techniques were merely too frightened to reveal themselves onstage. She spoke about being at the Actors Studio in 1958. “There’s really no such thing as the Method,” she said. “Lee Strasberg is a man gifted to see the capabilities a person really has. He releases a freedom of the spirit. It’s something like psychoanalysis. You have to know yourself before you can improve. Lee has that rare ability to convince you that you’re capable of more than what you’re doing. If only you could attend classes for six months, you’d see what marvelous things he can do.”
While actors such as Gary Cooper and Spencer Tracy denied any interest in becoming Method actors, by the mid-1950s, the membership had grown to include such high-profile names as Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift, James Dean, and soon Marilyn Monroe. “We have made history,” said Lee Strasberg in 1957, “in the sense that all over the world the Actors Studio has been thrown under a spotlight. Indeed you hardly read about an actor but you learn he is from the studio—well, I don’t know when they all got in, unless it was when I was away!” While not every actor was a student there, the sheer amount of superstars choosing to become associated with the Actors Studio brought attention to a degree it had never known before.
Association with Hollywood legends was great for the studio, but it actually caused quite a stir for the actors who had fought their way in through intense auditions. The celebrities that just walked through the doors without having uttered a word in the audition process were resented by the stage actors, who all thought—quite rightly, of course—that everyone should receive the same treatment.
The negative feelings from New York City actors toward Hollywood luminaries was further complicated because for some years they had also been blamed for stealing Broadway roles from local talent. In 1956, actor Barry Nelson described the Broadway stage as dying and a phenomenon of the past. The problem, he said, was that theater managers wanted actors who were well known throughout the country, not just in New York. By employing film stars, they were almost guaranteed to sell out on opening night, and audiences were much more likely to attend a run. “As Mr. Nelson admits,” wrote Eric Johns, “their presence on Broadway is decidedly detrimental to the theater and often the play itself suffers because they cannot possibly do justice to their roles. Yet genuine craftsmen in the art of acting may have been turned down or never considered because their names mean nothing to the masses.”
This problem had actually worked the opposite way in the late 1920s and early ’30s, when Hollywood enlisted the help of East Coast stage actors to survive the transition to talkies. The actors were brought over to California for the simple reason that they knew how to speak their lines. This left many established Hollywood actors of the silent era furious. By the mid-1950s, stage actors in New York were feeling the same way.
While still studying with Constance Collier, Marilyn met Actors Studio director Cheryl Crawford at a party. The two did not hit it off immediately, however, as Crawford was friends with Marilyn’s former agent Charles Feldman and felt that he had been treated badly by the star. Marilyn stood her ground and explained that she needed somebody on her side who was not also working for Twentieth Century Fox. Crawford eventually understood the predicament she had found herself in, and the two became friends.
The story of how Marilyn actually took the final decision to become involved in the Actors Studio has often been discussed. Milton Greene was said to have given her a push in that direction, since he was friends with member Marlon Brando. Arthur Miller believed that the whole reason for Marilyn’s move to Manhattan was because she desperately wanted to study there. Others believe that it was the fateful meeting with Cheryl Crawford that gave the opportunity to follow through with any fledgling plans she might have had. In truth, it was probably a mixture of all of these reasons. Marilyn had long been aware of the Actors Studio (and had told Studio director Lee Strasberg’s daughter, Susan, in 1954 that she one day wanted to work with her father), so it was perhaps always inevitable that her quest to become a successful, serious actress would one day lead to the Actors Studio. Whichever path she took, this fateful decision sent her on a journey that would change her entire approach to acting.
Marilyn was introduced formally to Lee and Paula Strasberg, and they adored her from the start. They opened their home to this Hollywood misfit and made her part of their family. Daughter Susan became a surrogate sister, and Marilyn’s occasional overnight stays ensured son John had to sleep on the sofa. For someone who had never enjoyed the security of living with two parents in a loving environment, Marilyn adored her time with the family and took a keen interest in their lives. John’s first impression on meeting Marilyn was that she was “instinctively smart, nobody’s fool.”
Cynics have suggested that Lee and Paula adored the notoriety the actress brought with her. Even if that was so, there is no doubt that during those early years in New York, Marilyn relied on the family quite heavily. Paula spoke about her feelings for the actress in 1960: “Marilyn has a God-given talent, really phenomenal talent. My husband says she is a combination of Jeanne Eagels and Pauline Lord. Like them she is greatly misunderstood. Where Marilyn’s work is concerned, she wants perfection and to achieve perfection in anything is well-nigh impossible. But she constantly seeks it—even at the expense of her health and peace of mind.”
It was decided that Marilyn would take a variety of classes with Lee Strasberg. First there were free, one-on-one lessons that took place in the living room of the Strasberg apartment. Susan would often overhear the conversations going on in the room and noted a lot of swearing and anger from Marilyn toward Twentieth Century Fox and anyone she felt had betrayed her. Susan found these observations fascinating but also frustrating, because in all the time she had known her father, he had never once given her the kind of support that he gave Marilyn during their lessons.
Also at the Strasberg apartment were classes attended by other actors and actresses. These were more formal, fee-based lessons, and involved a series of exercises and improvisation. At first, Marilyn did not feel confident enough to take part so would sit on an easy chair and observe. Eventually, however, she started to loosen up and studied scenes with the other actors. Over the course of time, Marilyn found herself engrossed in studying Ulysses (she was intrigued that author James Joyce was able to get into a woman’s mind through the character of Molly Bloom), as well as improvisations where she imagined herself in the role of a cat. One exercise saw the actress study animals at the zoo, where she fell in love with a lioness called June and then became worried that the big cat was lonely.
Her studies were extremely enjoyable and allowed Marilyn to open up in a way she had rarely done before. Strasberg noted that she had developed a lot of bad habits in Hollywood, but thankfully they had not affected her sensitivity or raw talent. Over time, the overemphasis on her voice—taught by Lytess—began to subside, and her true acting ability soon emerged. This new, subtle approach to her craft was perfect for Marilyn, who away from the cameras hardly wore makeup, ran her fingers through her unstyled hair, and dressed in casual clothes and no jewelry. In short, she realized that for the first time, it was perfectly okay to just be herself.
Perhaps the most notorious part of her education was when Marilyn was invited to observe work at the actual famed Actors Studio. Once again, she did not feel confident enough to do scenes there at first, so instead she sat in the crowd, made extensive notes, and watched the other actors onstage. Since Marilyn was one of the biggest celebrities in the world, the New York actors were not going to go out of their way to make her feel welcome or wanted when she walked into class. They did not greet her with hostility (not to her face anyway), but they were wary of her presence and outwardly seemed unimpressed by her star status.
Arthur Miller’s sister, Joan Copeland, remembered that some of the students would whisper and ask questions such as “What the heck is she doing here?” The catty remarks would also be used to make fun of her talents, even though no one had actually seen her act onstage. Marilyn never admitted that her feelings were hurt, but Joan imagined they must surely have been. Instead, Marilyn kept quiet and tried desperately to blend into the background. Dressed down in skirts and button-up shirts or sweaters and pants, Marilyn sat toward the back of the class and, at first, rarely spoke to anyone. Her initial reaction was that the other students seemed so much younger than her, and she was intimidated by their youth and experience.
The frosty atmosphere was perhaps made no better when it became obvious to everyone that the Strasbergs absolutely adored Marilyn, and vice versa. However, over the course of time, the students began mellowing toward her, and she started to let down her guard as well. Flanked by the Strasbergs, Marilyn would attend lunch with the other students and happily took part in conversations. At night, she would often join them again at places such as Downey’s on Eighth Avenue, where they would discuss art, music, and culture.
Most students kept quiet about their thoughts on Marilyn, but one unidentified member spoke to reporter Gene Houseman. The actor was keen to give a different slant on the story: “Actually nobody’s being snooty with this no-talk bit,” he said. “Behind it is an unwritten agreement with Marilyn. She doesn’t want any publicity in connection with her attendance there, and she has placed her trust in everyone there to follow her wishes. It’s really an admirable and remarkable thing that none of the students—there are about 165—has ever dreamed of violating that trust. Especially when you take into account that none of them are really bound in any way, and many of them are very poor, struggling actors who could certainly use the fast buck they might make for talking.”
One of the students who remembered Marilyn coming into the studio at the beginning was Stefan Gierasch, who said that the actress sat at the back and tried not to draw attention to herself. According to him, everyone was aware that Lee and Paula Strasberg were her mentors, but he was unaware that anyone had been unkind to Marilyn; in fact, he remembered various members trying to welcome her. In comparison, actor Mark Weston said they were told never to treat Marilyn any differently than other students, and his first impression was that she was there just to take up space. This observation was somewhat unfair because while Marilyn may not have said anything at all in the beginning, she was soaking up all that the studio had to offer.
TO GET A BETTER understanding of their psyche, it was felt that students of the Method should undertake a period of psychoanalysis. Marilyn took the advice very seriously and began therapy in February 1955 with Dr. Margaret Hohenberg, a therapist introduced to her by fellow patient Milton Greene. While one may think that it was slightly unethical to treat two business partners—particularly if one had anything to say about the other—Hohenberg either did not think about this, or did not care. Documents also suggest that various business decisions were made only after consultation with Hohenberg, which was unusual, to say the least. Regardless, Marilyn attended regular sessions with the Freudian analyst, and this therapy continued with Hohenberg and others until the end of her life.
Without access to Marilyn’s patient records, we cannot say categorically what happened during meetings with her psychiatrists. However, clinical psychologist Dr. L. Ruddick, who practices in Birmingham, England, has been able to shed light on the kinds of sessions a Freudian analyst could have provided:
Therapy is likely to start with the therapist establishing a full history from the person, including things that are important to them about their childhood, family relationships—particularly with primary care-givers—emotional symptoms, physical health, sexual relationships, important memories whether real or imagined, and events leading up to the onset of emotional/physical/psychological symptoms. The focus of the therapy is liable to have been to look at the relationship between conscious and unconscious parts of the mind (memories and fantasies), seeking to undo the repression of hidden impulses and to find alternative outlets.
A therapist wouldn’t necessarily rely on verbal information, but alongside listening would be observing the mood and the feelings to think about underlying messages. Freud used the technique of free-association at some point in his career and would just let the person talk as they so wished, free as much as possible of the influence of the therapist. Reflection was frequently used as a technique.
There have been many discussions over the years as to whether her regular stream of therapists did Marilyn any good. It is certainly debatable. In and out of foster homes and an orphanage, Marilyn was wounded by memories of an unstable childhood, and it would perhaps have been better for her long-term health if she had dealt with it quickly and moved on. But the sustained use of therapists ensured that she was continually reminded of particular moments of her childhood that were perhaps best left in the past.
Actors Studio student Delos Smith Jr. told Susan Strasberg that Marilyn would often be conservative with the truth during her sessions with Hohenberg. Terrified because her mother had been committed to an asylum, the actress would withhold information so that the analyst would not think she required the same kind of treatment. According to Smith, Marilyn also had a fascination with suicide and spoke about it often. When he told Lee Strasberg that he feared she would die, the acting guru was furious. He believed that any negativity she harbored would be cured by immersion in the classes.
In this age of mental health awareness, it is important to acknowledge that Marilyn did have issues. She was particularly vulnerable, easily hurt, and often brought to tears or anger through perceived rejection or betrayal. Her life was always black-and-white: a person was either on her side or not, and there was simply no middle ground. She fought inner demons; she constantly looked for the truth of her life and was prone to bouts of depression. In spite of that, she still achieved great heights and never let her anxiety stop her quest for knowledge and education. For Marilyn to accept that she had problems, and to realize that in spite of them she was able to accomplish everything she did, was in itself empowering.
A private person by nature, Marilyn did not speak about her therapy sessions often, but when asked by reporter Logan Gourlay in 1955, she gave a little insight. “I’m not taking a full course,” she said, before adding that she would never scoff at psychiatry and felt it useful to know what made her tick. When pressed further, she quickly changed the subject, but the question came again from the same journalist five years later. This time all Marilyn would say is that she knew nothing about psychiatrist Carl Jung, but quite a lot about Sigmund Freud. “He’s the one I believe in,” she said.
In 1956, Marilyn shared a little more to reporter Pete Martin. During the interview, she revealed that while previously she had felt a need to run away from her emotions, she was beginning to understand herself in a way that she never had before: “I’ve read a little of Freud and it might have to do with what he said. I think he was on the right track.”
FEBRUARY 1955 WAS A busy month for Marilyn. In addition to her acting lessons and therapy sessions, there was a press conference to announce a charity appearance at Madison Square Garden, a birthday party for actor Jackie Gleason (attended with Joe DiMaggio), and the premiere of East of Eden. The film opening—a benefit for the Actors Studio—caused the most excitement, with fans queued around the block just to get a glimpse of Marilyn acting as a celebrity usher.
During a party after the premiere, it was planned for the actress to sing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” and the event was even advertised numerous times in newspapers. However, Marilyn decided to pull out because she did not have time to rehearse and had no wish to look foolish in front of Broadway actors. Actress Carol Channing had played the part of Lorelei Lee in the 1949 Broadway production of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and was urged to trap Marilyn into singing “Diamonds” with her, but she thought that a dreadful idea. “I decided it wouldn’t be fair to Marilyn,” she said. “I just know that I’d kill anybody who’d do it to me, so why should I do it to her?”
Away from the limelight, Marilyn, Milton Greene, and her representatives were in fevered negotiations with Lew Schreiber from Twentieth Century Fox regarding her contract. Fan mail was still pouring in to the studio and had hit an unprecedented eight thousand letters during March 1955. Many of the fans demanded to know when their favorite star would return to the screen, and, of course, that was something the studio did not yet know. After The Seven Year Itch, there would be no new Marilyn Monroe projects to release. Zanuck and his associates frankly could not believe that the woman they thought was no more than a ditzy blonde was actually holding them to ransom.
Marilyn, however, reveled in her newfound position. This was her way of punishing them for every bad picture they’d put her in, for every time she’d fought to read a script or even have her own dressing room. A climax of sorts came when Marilyn started returning their letters unopened. Furious, Zanuck announced that all negotiations were off and, just to add further drama, threatened to delay the release of The Seven Year Itch.
This might have given the studio head satisfaction, but it was all a bluff, as in reality he was campaigning to bring the premiere forward rather than push it back. Originally there had been an agreement whereby the studio would wait until the end of the Broadway run before releasing the picture. This seemed logical at the time, but in the end, despite saying that Marilyn was holding up the release, Fox paid a fine of $175,000 to the playwright and stage producers to be able to open much earlier than planned.
Marilyn may have been fighting for more money, but Fox found it difficult to believe that the ultimate aim was never to become rich. Instead, what she wanted more than anything was the right to make decisions about her own career and to express her creativity in a way that was relatable to the public. This should not have come as a surprise. Once, when Marilyn was a starlet, a member of the legal department tried to get her to sign a contract sooner rather than later. When she asked why, he told her it would save her money in the long run. “I’m not interested in money,” she said. “I just want to be wonderful.” She disclosed something similar to journalist and friend Sidney Skolsky: “I didn’t go into movies to make money. I wanted to become famous so that everyone would like me, and I’d be surrounded with love and affection.”
Marilyn ignored all threats and demands from Fox, and instead enjoyed throwing a surprise party for Milton Greene on his birthday in March 1955. She then did something rather unprecedented: she allowed photographer Ed Feingersh to follow her around New York City, going about her everyday business of shopping, riding the subway, and taking part in costume fittings. However, she was slightly concerned about her less-than-classy accommodation at the Gladstone Hotel, so by the time Feingersh arrived, Marilyn had moved into the more luxurious Ambassador.
The photographs taken during the shoot have gone on to become some of Marilyn’s most iconic, and have been used on postcards and posters throughout the world. One of the most famous is a black-and-white shot showing Marilyn leaning against the wall of her balcony, wearing a simple dress and holding a cigarette. The streets of Manhattan can be seen all around her, skyscrapers, modern and classic architecture, tiny cars and even tinier people. Everyone on the street was completely oblivious to the fact that the world’s most famous woman was gazing down on them, and yet there she was.
As a child, Marilyn used to gaze out of the orphanage window and see the RKO Studio water tower. Now she was gazing onto the streets of New York City as a famous movie star. What went through Marilyn’s mind during that simple but effective photo shoot? At times, she looks thoughtful, as though wondering what would become of her. At others, she is smiling broadly, her hands balancing her as she leans out over the wall, fully accomplished in mood and manner.
Other shots show Marilyn lying on her sofa, reading texts by Stanislavski and Motion Picture Daily newspaper. Her hair is untidy and her clothes casual, but she does not appear to care. The photos taken by Ed Feingersh that week show a person intent on success. New York had become a beacon—a strong, unmoving talisman to hold on to while she fought for her rights. Marilyn was a runaway, looking for bright lights and a positive future, and she could not return home to California without making her dreams come true first. Failure simply was not an option.
ON MARCH 30, 1955, Marilyn took part in a charity event at Madison Square Garden, which saw her sitting astride a pink elephant. As it clomped through the auditorium, fans way up in the farthest balcony cheered her name and waved furiously. Marilyn waved back and was so astounded by their support that she could not wait to tell Amy and Milton Greene all about it.
Journalists were happy to include photos of the actress riding the elephant, but some fans wondered if she had been scared. She assured them she was not. While bravery is something Marilyn is rarely given credit for, over the years quite a few photographs and stories have emerged showing her making friends with every kind of animal, from stray dogs and horses to big cats and bears. Her philosophy on her affinity for animals was simple: “Dogs never bite me,” she said. “Just humans.”
By early April 1955, Darryl F. Zanuck was in New York. He took the opportunity to hold a press interview to discuss the latest news from his studio, and, of course, the subject of Marilyn came up. After declaring that the company would do a major push toward finding new talent in the year ahead, he reiterated his belief that Marilyn was still under contract and their agreement was not expected to expire for another three years. Bizarrely, he then denied all knowledge of the actress’s plans to produce and star in her own company’s films, and stated firmly that if she did not fulfill her obligations with Fox, she might be liable for damages.
Meanwhile, Marilyn fielded other offers that came her way. One was from the Last Frontier hotel in Las Vegas to star in her own song-and-dance production. Marilyn balked at the idea and said she couldn’t possibly take part as she suffered from stage fright. However, Marilyn did say yes to an appearance with Milton and Amy Greene, on the April 8, 1955, edition of Edward R. Murrow’s Person to Person. During a meeting to discuss the television show, Murrow noted that Marilyn seemed interested but not overly enthusiastic about the interview. Then after talking for a few moments, she surprised the host by suddenly asking him about Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India. The actress revealed that she had missed a recent show he had made about Nehru and was anxious to see it. Several days later, Marilyn arrived at Murrow’s office and they watched the program together. Afterward, she said that Nehru reminded her of Charlie Chaplin because of his expressive face. Murrow was so impressed with her interest in politics that he later sent her an album compilation of Winston Churchill’s speeches.
The live interview between Murrow and Marilyn, Milton, and Amy took place at the Greenes’ farmhouse. Baby Joshua was put down for his sleep and the three interviewees gathered in the kitchen. Crew members from the show hurried around, setting up cameras and microphones. A few minutes before they were due to go on, one of the crew mentioned that the threesome would be appearing before millions of people around the United States. This sent Marilyn and Milton into a nervous frenzy, but Amy remained calm.
Finally, it was time to switch on the cameras. The interview started with Milton in his studio, showing Murrow his vast collection of photographs. These ranged from a snap of his son to classic poses of Audrey Hepburn and, of course, Marilyn. Waiting in the kitchen, the star of the show was sitting with Amy, wearing a casual polo shirt and skirt. Considering she was a bundle of nerves before the event, Marilyn handled herself admirably, even when listening to inane questions about what kind of houseguest she was and whether she made her own bed.
The interview was somewhat awkward at times, such as in the middle of one question when Amy Greene suddenly interrupted Murrow and instructed the group to move to the den. Just as they sat down, the telephone started to ring. Several moments later, Milton got up to rummage around the sideboard for his pipe. The open fire crackled loudly in the background, and even the dogs made an appearance, but in all, the program was interesting, especially when Marilyn was finally asked about her new life.
Explaining that it was most important to have a good director, the actress disclosed that she had set up her film company hoping to make great pictures, and that she loved New York City and Connecticut and could often go around without anyone bothering her at all. This statement received a few chuckles from Milton and Amy, who then told a story about a taxi driver who started talking about Marilyn, not realizing for a second that she was actually sitting in the back of his cab.
The full appearance, including a studio introduction, took about fourteen minutes. While Marilyn might have been the star everyone wanted to see, it was Amy who stole the show. Looking as though nothing could ever faze her, she stepped in whenever Marilyn got stuck for an answer or seemed lost for words—so much so that afterward, some viewers decided she too should be in pictures. Amy herself remained insistent that her job was to look after Milton, Joshua, and, for the present, Marilyn.
By this time, Marilyn had left the Ambassador, but she did not move into her new apartment at the posh Waldorf Astoria Towers for several days. She saw the Greenes on the day after the Murrow interview, but then promptly disappeared. Concerned, they phoned Marilyn’s contacts in Hollywood to see if she had turned up there, but they had not heard from her in months. It was never brought to light where the actress had gone during her few days of absence, but wherever it was, it taught Milton a lesson. While everyone considered him something of a Svengali who kept other people away, Marilyn was more than capable of disappearing on him too.
After moving into the Waldorf, Marilyn embraced her new life. There, she entertained friends, practiced her exercises for acting class, and talked business with Milton Greene. On top of that were photo sessions where Marilyn posed in all manner of settings and situations. Milton’s natural way of shooting combined with her total trust in what he could do with a camera made the photographs some of the most beautiful ever taken, and they are still among the most prized by fans and collectors today.
In her spare time, Marilyn read consistently and listened to her favorite music: Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, and many jazz musicians. “I’m insane about jazz,” she said. “Louis Armstrong and Earl Bostick [sic]—it just gets stronger all the time.” This was not a new affection; Marilyn had loved Armstrong since her early starlet days, as well as Jelly Roll Morton, a jazz musician who had died in 1941. She also went through a phase of listening to music by composers Tomaso Albinoni and Ottorino Respighi, and she played a little piano, “The Old Spinning Wheel” and “The Long Way Home” her favorite tunes.
Away from friends and colleagues, Marilyn spent a great deal of time by herself, which she found calming and refreshing. On days like that, she would window-shop at Tiffany’s; sip coffee in small, quiet cafés; and buy creams and makeup at Elizabeth Arden. Many hours were spent closeted away in bookshops, reading and buying volumes on all manner of topics. Then she would admire art in the Metropolitan Museum, or go antiquing on Third Avenue. When asked how she managed to get around anonymously, Marilyn said she merely subdued her walk, wore no makeup, and put her hair under a scarf.
Anyone coming to Marilyn’s apartment hoping to find copies of Photoplay and Screenland magazines would be disappointed. When Pete Martin went to interview her, he noted a variety of interesting books on the coffee table, notably Fallen Angels by Noël Coward, Gertrude Lawrence as Mrs. A by Richard Aldrich, a condensed volume on Abraham Lincoln (she would later become friends with its author, Carl Sandburg), and Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell: Their Correspondence by Bernard Shaw. Meanwhile, a recording of actor John Barrymore in Shakespeare’s Hamlet lay on the floor.
At night, Marilyn would lie in bed and listen to the sounds of the street below. The beeps from impatient cab drivers later became an observation exercise in her notebook. In the text, she pondered the idea that they were driving to support their families and go on vacation. She loved the sounds of the street outside, and the moon, park, and river were favorite sights. While appreciating natural beauty, she also wrote about nightmares in her notebooks, of strange men leaning too close to her in elevators, and a fear of being complimented, in case it was insincere.
Marilyn’s anxieties and lack of confidence were always a concern. Lee Strasberg encouraged her to do exercises out of strength, not fear, and taught technical ways to become stronger within herself. She remained frustrated that whenever she tried to express herself in a sincere way, there were always those who would dismiss her ideas and instead see her as a somewhat stupid person.
Still, Marilyn’s fears and inferiority complex never seemed to hold her back from trying to live her dreams and give thanks to those who had been kind to her in the past. She was forever humble, as demonstrated on April 26, when she unexpectedly attended the Banshees party for journalists at the Waldorf Astoria hotel. None of the waiting reporters knew she would be there, but everyone seemed ecstatic that she was. “Any success I’ve had I owe entirely to you gentlemen of the press,” she announced, before Earl Wilson snapped her with his camera and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes author Anita Loos desperately tried—and failed—to get close enough to speak.
HER ATTENDANCE AT THE Actors Studio eventually led Marilyn to become true friends with at least one of its students—actor Eli Wallach. She had seen him playing in The Teahouse of the August Moon and grilled him backstage about his work and whether he thought she could ever become a theater actress. Eli had explained what was required and Marilyn listened intently.
The actor always felt that theater offered a lot more artistic satisfaction than films or television, and had actually turned down numerous movie roles in order to return to the stage. During the course of his discussion with Marilyn, it was more than likely revealed that Eli had recently hopped over the Atlantic to play in London’s West End. Such freedom to move around was not something Marilyn had ever been used to in Hollywood, and it was something she would later experience as her own boss.
After seeing Eli perform in Teahouse, Marilyn got into the habit of seeing the play whenever she could. She would sneak into the balcony completely anonymously and spend hours soaking up the atmosphere. She also became close to Eli’s wife, Anne Jackson, and would sometimes babysit their son when they wanted a night out. One day after Marilyn told Eli that she adored Albert Einstein, she was somewhat surprised to discover a signed photograph of the man in her mailbox. After phoning numerous friends to share the great news, it was revealed that Eli Wallach had sent it himself as a joke. Marilyn appreciated his humor and hung the picture up anyway.
Showing competent business skills, Marilyn also helped Eli go over a contract, instructing him on which clauses to take out and which to strengthen. An article appeared in 1955 about this very experience, and although the comment was anonymous, it likely came from Eli. “Marilyn gave me the kind of advice I’d only expect to get from a Hollywood lawyer,” he said. “She knew the ins and outs and the fine-print tricks, better than an agent.” Another contributor added that Marilyn knew instinctively what was good for her in terms of business.
THE CLASSES AT THE Actors Studio emphasized expressivity, and Lee Strasberg felt that an actor needed to give an emotional performance, as well as deal with the feelings that this could bring to the surface. There were breathing exercises involved, and a great deal of repetition until the sentiment was absolutely perfect. Homework was necessary between classes, and an actor had to be prepared to work on his or her own. One of the most important talents practiced at the studio was the ability to cry in front of an audience. In this regard, students were encouraged to create anything in their mind to bring up the required emotion and tears.
“Marilyn had good experience of this because of her awful childhood,” remembers actor and student Joseph Lionetti. “She could be very vulnerable in a scene and cried easily, but she was beautiful. Lee said she could be a brilliant stage actress.” Indeed, at the time of Marilyn’s death, Lionetti remembers that the Strasbergs were actually hoping to create a play for the actress to perform in Manhattan. They believed that with her name and the sensitivity she was able to show onstage, it could have been a sellout for at least five years.
During the New York era, Marilyn was intensely interested in theater and attended dozens of performances. She was fascinated by the whole process of being onstage and interrogated many actors about the processes involved. Just some of the plays she attended included Shakespeare’s heavyweight drama Macbeth, A Hatful of Rain by Michael V. Gazzo, Middle of the Night by Paddy Chayefsky, and Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee. Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge became a favorite, and she was thrilled to support Susan Strasberg during her run in The Diary of Anne Frank.
Damn Yankees—a musical comedy about a man who sells his soul to the devil to become a great baseball player—appealed to Marilyn. Intrigued by the story, the actress called a meeting between her, Milton Greene, and writer George Abbott to see if there was a possibility she could become involved. Abbott loved her voice and decided she had a special quality, but the two did not work together on the play. “Marilyn should have a show written just for her,” he said. “With that personality, she’s entitled to it.”
Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? by George Axelrod starred Jayne Mansfield as a Marilyn Monroe–type character. Jayne had been described as a Marilyn wannabe and rival, so it was understandable that Monroe would be curious to see the play. However, when Edwin Schallert asked her about it a few months later, Marilyn denied ever having seen it, but she seemed to know an awful lot about it nevertheless. She was aware that the main character was being compared to her, but told Schallert that if she saw the play herself, she likely wouldn’t see any resemblance. The actress was steadfast in her opinion that the comparisons were probably only made because Mansfield’s character does not wear underwear, a comment Monroe had been rumored to have said.
At first, Marilyn was quite happy to be photographed whenever she attended the theater. However, this came to an abrupt halt when one of her Actors Studio friends chastised her for attending the opening of his latest play. According to the student, the press only chose to write about Marilyn and almost ignored the performance completely. He claimed that the reporters’ fascination with her was what cost the play a long run. After that, she would often sneak into a play with her hair hidden under a scarf so as to avoid “spoiling” any more runs.
Being recognized could often cause problems for Marilyn. Random folk would sometimes shout at her from the balcony and even insult her clothes or hairstyle. Then fans would crowd around her at the intermission to have her sign their programs. At the end of the night, they often spilled out onto the sidewalk and followed her to nearby restaurants, where they would gawk at her over their menus. Reporter Logan Gourlay witnessed this one evening when he met Marilyn after a trip to the theater. As they reached a restaurant, Marilyn whispered, “Sit down in front of me and help block the view a bit. I don’t want to be stared at anymore tonight. I suppose I should be used to it by now. But I’m not.” Gourlay did as he was told, but two minutes later a waiter turned up to ask Marilyn for an autographed menu.
DURING ONE TRIP TO see a play called House of Flowers, Marilyn went backstage to talk to the composer, Harold Arlen. There, she was overheard telling the man that she was desperate to appear on Broadway and was considering appearing onstage before resuming film work. Just a few weeks before disclosing this, Marilyn had been approached by playwright Zoe Akins, who was working on The Trojan Party, a play she hoped the actress would take on as a stage production. The plans were never fulfilled, but had they been, it was sure to have been a great success. The play was intended as a follow-up to How to Marry a Millionaire, the movie Marilyn had starred in with Lauren Bacall and Betty Grable.
The Strasbergs continued to believe in Marilyn’s talents as a theater actress and even went so far as to ask another student if he would like to act in Macbeth with her. During the summer of 1955, Actors Studio director Cheryl Crawford told Marilyn that she had every intention of producing a play for her. This did not come to fruition, however, and Marilyn’s agent Jay Kanter believes that during this time she was far more concerned with doing good work on the screen and gaining director approval for her films.
In addition, Marilyn still suffered from an intense lack of confidence, along with nervousness in front of an audience, something she would have had to overcome if a theater career was in her future. Paula Strasberg later spoke to reporter Louella Parsons about Marilyn’s nerves: “I think my husband has the solution: he says that nervousness indicates sensitivity and that’s what Marilyn has, great sensitivity. And then, Marilyn is still frightened, although she is overcoming it. Lee says ‘show me an actress who isn’t frightened and nervous and I will say she won’t go far.’”