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"LIES, LIES, LIES”
Lies, lies, lies, nothing but lies. Everything they've been saying about me is lies. You are the first one I'm telling it to. I'll tell you all about my childhood, career, marriages, and divorces—but most important, what I want most out of life.
I was born according to the records (and my birth certificate) Norma Jeane Mortenson, approximately nine thirty in the morning on June 1, 1926, at Los Angeles General Hospital [now County University of Southern California Medical Center].
Yes, it's true I was born an illegitimate child. I also spent a part of my childhood in and out of foster homes—and to top it off I landed in an orphanage [from the time] I was nine to eleven, even though my mother was still alive. My mother? Sure I had a mother, doesn't everyone have a mother? About my father? Well, I guess that's what caused my mother to have problems in life. No, I never got to know my father.
You know, my mother was a very attractive woman when she was young, but she used to say the beauty in the family was her mother.
My grandmother was something—all the boys were after her. She was from Dublin, Ireland, you know, where all the girls are pretty. Her family name was Hogan. My grandfather? He came from Scotland and I remember, as strange as it seemed, she spoke with a slight Scottish brogue. I remember it sounded nice, sort of musical. My father's father, my grandfather, I was told, was born in Haugesund, Norway. He and my grandmother met in Los Angeles after the First World War.
My mother once told me my father died in an accident when I was quite young. My father wasn't married to my mother when I was born. In fact, he left my mother when
GEORGE BARRIS: Marilyn always seemed deter- mined to talk to me about her childhood. We would be discussing a subject of current interest to her, and she would somehow bring up an incident from her bygone days.
Even when she talked about the future, she drifted back to the past. I think she was a dreamer and nostalgic about those early days. She was always honest in our conver- sations, and if she didn't want to discuss a part of her life in detail, she would politely smile and give me a brief answer.
Did Marilyn always tell me the truth? I believe so, even though, being an accom- plished actress, she may have dramatized some events and added a bit of color to them—still the facts were there. Her eyes would tell me she was truthful, while her voice revealed the drama, so that I could feel the pain or joy she had gone through. Her way of rendering a story helped me understand her better. She was a person of passion and great love, even when things were not going well for her.
Sometimes I felt a sadness watching her, a beautiful girl who had achieved the impossible, the dream of all beautiful, tal- ented girls—fame as an actress on the silver screen. I could see a sadness in her eyes; she had learned to smile, laugh, and clown,
he heard from her that I was on the way. His name: Stanley Gifford. I was their love child. He told my mother that she should be glad she was married to Ed Mortenson—at least she could give the baby his name. Stanley Gifford offered my mother money, but she refused. She was willing to get a divorce and marry him, but he wouldn't do the right thing by her—even if she divorced her husband.
I guess that's what broke her heart—you know what I mean. When you love a man and tell him you're going to have his child and he runs out on you, it's something a woman never gets over. I don't think my mother did. I don't think I ever did. Yes, it's a fact, I was conceived perhaps in a moment of passion by my mother, who had always loved me—and by a father who would not recognize his obligation to a child that passion would conceive. A father in the eyes of the law, but one who would have nothing to do with his child. Even when I became a successful movie star, he still refused to acknowledge me. All I really wanted from him was to let me call him my father. But
even though her heart was breaking.
When I photographed Marilyn, I some- times encouraged her to think about her childhood and the days when she was sweet Norma Jeane, not about Marilyn Monroe the movie star she had become. She under- stood instinctively what I wanted. The chemistry between us worked perfectly. It seemed to me that a magnet had drawn us together for this project, which excited us both.
During our picture-taking sessions she amazed me with her youthful vitality. Her energy seemed endless. She would run into the chilly ocean water and allow the waves to nearly knock her down—just like a kid. Then she'd laugh and tell me how much fun she was having. She said she had acted the same way as a child. It was obvious that she truly loved the ocean. As I watched her, I asked if the ocean antics brought back memories of her childhood. She laughed and replied, “Yeah.”
One day at the ocean, Marilyn told me, “If the waves and undertow take me out to sea and I never come back, don't forget our book. You are the one I'm depending on to get it published. Don't forget. Promise me.” I told her not to worry, that I'd never let her down. “I trust you,” she replied.
All & really wanted from him was to let me call him my father.
he wouldn't give me the satisfaction of knowing him. He didn't want the world to know I was his love child, his mistake.
You want to know something about my childhood? Well, even though I did have some horrible experiences, and one that I'll never forget, there are two memories that I cherish dearly. But I'll tell you about them a little later on. I'll tell you about my marriages, too.
