My Week With Marilyn

WEDNESDAY, 4 JULY

My policeman came for his interview today – first with me and then with Mr P. We have codenamed him PLOD to confuse the Yanks.

He is absolutely perfect. He looks like a favourite uncle. He has a great sense of humour but is very shrewd underneath. He only retired from the police force a few months ago, so he knows everyone in Scotland Yard. Thank goodness he is extremely unimpressed by the film world and even by MM’s glamorous image. I made it clear that his principal duty was going to be to protect MM against photographers as well as lunatic fans. He gave a very wry grin and pointed out that it is not against the law to take a photograph of Miss Monroe, or anyone else.

‘Yes, yes, protect her person,’ I said, but of course he is right.

Since he is to live in MM’s house at Englefield Green, all expenses paid on a huge salary, he isn’t going to refuse. Mrs Plod will have to put up with this somehow, he said with a chuckle. ‘I hope she’s jealous.’

I wheeled him in to Mr P, who loved him of course, since they both hate showbiz. Mr P made it clear that he trusted me to make the appointment, he just wanted to discuss the sensitive nature of the job. My eyebrows went up but Plod’s didn’t. (I suspect they never do.) Mr P grumbled and rumbled round the subject for a while but what emerged was that Plod’s second duty was to act as a spy for LOP, with me as his contact. He would be the only person in Englefield Green whom we could trust for a commonsense report on what was going on there. MM was notoriously unreliable and unpredictable. Plod would be her shadow and could keep us informed, not of her private life of course (of course!) but of any developments which might affect the progress of the film. This would be immensely helpful on the mornings when she clearly had no intention of leaving the house. Then we could arrange for other things to film. Mr P explained that it would take 2½ hours every morning to put on MM’s make-up, wig and costume. She had to be at Pinewood Studios by 7 a.m. if filming was to start at 9.30 a.m. This meant that she had to leave Englefield by 6.30 a.m. ‘Laurence will arrive at 6.45 a.m. promptly, Colin, and you will already be there to greet him,’ Mr P said gravely.

On the days that MM had decided not to come at all, if we could be made aware of that by, say, 7.30, we could switch the schedule round to film shots without MM in them. Even these needed a couple of hours to set up and light, so every minute was vital.

Plod took all this in with a few gruff chuckles. I don’t think Mrs Plod needs 2½ hours to do her hair and make-up in the morning. (I have known ladies take all day.) The other thing Plod had to do was sign a document swearing that he wouldn’t sell information to the newspaper. I think quite a few people have to sign this as Mr P had the form typed and ready. I haven’t had to sign anything. I’m sure (I hope) he knows by now that I am absolutely loyal to SLO and him.

Plod will start next Monday, 9 July – and I will take him round and show him all the relevant addresses then. Someone from the Legal Department at Pinewood has contracted Parkside and Tibbs from then on, so Plod can move in if necessary. He is a very honourable man, and I think he will be a great ally.

THURSDAY, 5 JULY

Mr P and I went down to Pinewood Studios in a hired car. We didn’t tell the driver but he was on trial for the job as MM’s chauffeur. I think he will be perfect. He is very stupid, and never shows any emotion at all. The car, an Austin Princess, has a glass division and normally Plod will ride up front with the driver, while MM rides in the back. I wonder if AM will come to watch his bride filming, or stay in his study and write plays.

Pinewood is guarded by a studio police force which is hell-bent on keeping out the press and other intruders. Every vehicle is checked at the gate just like in the RAF. Once inside there are three huge studios joined by a very long concrete corridor. The other side of this corridor are the star dressing rooms, crowd dressing rooms, make-up rooms, wardrobe rooms etc. Across a little private road is the club house, with bars and a restaurant. MM’s and SLO’s dressing rooms are going to be at the end of one of the side corridors, opposite the restaurant. It really is all very like an RAF base with its hangars, offices and officers’ mess.

We are going to alternate between Studios A and B while other minor British films are being made in Studio C. There is a large ‘lot’ for filming outside scenes, but our film doesn’t have many of these as far as I can see.

Mr P and I first inspected MM’s dressing-room suite. Filming doesn’t start for four weeks but she must have somewhere suitable to relax in when she comes for rehearsals in three weeks’ time.

We were shown a series of what looked like old cowsheds which made me anxious.

‘Don’t worry Colin. The scene builders and set dressers only need 48 hours to convert this into the Dorchester. We are just here to check which ones have been allotted to us.’

We were shown round by Teddy Joseph, the production manager to be, who is still working on another film here at the moment. Small, bespectacled, a bit like a penguin, he will be Mr P’s right arm when filming starts. Teddy showed me round the various departments. We will use Pinewood facilities for everything but the stars.

In the wardrobe department was one of the prettiest little girls I have ever seen in my life. This is very good news indeed since I am going to be working here myself for four months. Slim as a wand, curly brown hair, huge brown eyes and a wide cheeky grin. The head of the department is a large motherly lady. She definitely feels that it is her duty to protect her little lambs from prowling 3rd Ast Dirs. But the ‘wand’ was thrilled to bits. After all I was with Mr P – and Mr P is supreme boss, at least until SLO arrives. Teddy persuaded Mr P that all was well, Mr P caught me by the ear to prevent me bobbing up to Wardrobe for the sixth time and we returned to London. Pinewood strikes me as a bastion of professionalism and common sense. It is not at all like the Hollywood studios I have read about. With Teddy and David and Tony Bushell in charge, what can go wrong?

FRIDAY, 6 JULY

Last night I asked myself what could go wrong. Today the whole movie seemed in question, before the camera has even rolled. A rumour came from the USA at lunchtime that AM was going to have his passport refused after all.30 This would mean that he couldn’t come to London, and MM would certainly not come to London for four months without him. Since huge sums of money have been spent already, this caused quite a panic. Everyone was on the phone, asking for reassurance which we could not give. Rattigan was especially put out. SLO was grim-faced and terse, firmly shutting me out of the office for his conference with Mr P and Tony B, and a series of calls to the USA.

No one could get through to MM and AM, but Milton Greene, on the transatlantic phone, was calm. It could be fixed, he was sure. But he couldn’t find Irving Stein who had been with MM last night or speak to MM and Arthur at least. So the worrying went on all day.

Mr P has heard (from her last director) that MM often gets ‘confused’. Surely he doesn’t mean ‘drunk’? Pills, more likely – as with Judy Garland. That may be the problem now, although I hope she isn’t taking pills on the first week of her honeymoon. I suggested this to Mr P and got a very grumpy ‘grmph’. But by 6 p.m. it was all solved. AM and MM had got up at last – 1 p.m. in the USA – and switched the phone on. Milton Greene was on the line to MM and SLO simultaneously and all was sweetness and light.

‘Not a very good omen,’ said Mr P, for the second time this week, as we finally left the office at 7 p.m. But he is always pessimistic. I’m really relieved that the film is on the rails again. Gilman whisked Tony and SLO off to Notley in the Bentley. Anne had been waiting for them in the car. My goodness, she is an attractive woman, and extremely nice too. She gave me a great welcome, as if I was an old friend. But she is not in the least seductive, unlike Vivien. I’m off for a weekend in the country too – but alone. I sure envy those two men their beautiful ladies. I wouldn’t mind staying in bed till 1 p.m. like Arthur Miller if I was with either of them – or both!

MONDAY, 9 JULY

Back to earth. SLO started to distribute cigarettes when he came in this morning. He is delighted that they have named a new cigarette after him, and now he gets free packets of ‘Oliviers’ for life. I suppose I didn’t look as thrilled as I might have at this news so he told me quite sharply that the same tobacco company had named a cigarette after the great actor du Maurier.31 He could hardly refuse.

‘Oh of course, yes, wonderful,’ I cried, but to me the idea of someone as great as SLO advertising something is a shame. Du Maurier was of another era – and probably needed the money which SLO does not. I know nothing about du Maurier but I think of him as an old ham, although quite unfairly I’m sure. More importantly, du Maurier cigarettes are not a great success.

SLO went on to explain that his costume in the film has no pockets so he wants me to be on call holding the cigarettes at all times in case he wants to smoke. I am naturally to smoke ‘Oliviers’ also, and I can get as many as I want from Gilman, who has crates of them.

After one day’s trial I don’t like them that much – I prefer Woodbines – but that isn’t the point. ‘On call by SLO’s side at all times’ is what I wanted to hear, and have been planning to be anyway. As soon as the film starts, my pay goes up to union scale (£10.10s. pw), I get free cigarettes, and I have to be at the director’s side at all times. Good news.

I told this, with glee, to David Orton who came in at 4.30.

‘The hell with that idea!’ he roared. ‘You work for me and me alone and don’t you forget it. You are my slave. I don’t want my 3rd Ast Dir poncing around with the director, even if it is SLO.’

‘Quite right, David. I was only kidding.’

I’ve managed situations like this before, and it’s nice to be in demand. Just a matter of being very quick on the feet and polite at all times.

Irving Stein and Milton Greene arrive from NYC tomorrow on the overnight flight. I offered to go to meet them but Mr P said ‘no’. He’s sent the chauffeur.

‘Let the buggers find their own way around,’ he growled.

Do I sense hostility to our American cousins already?

TUESDAY, 10 JULY

Milton Greene and Irving Stein are both very young. They came in like a couple of recent graduates from some Jewish university. Both were exhausted after the flight and looked wary, but very charming. Irving is more aloof; Milton more boyish, very slight, dark brown eyes always smiling. They must be extremely shrewd to have got control of the most famous film star in the world.

Milton masterminded the plot to break MM’s contract with 20th Century and ‘set her free’. I suppose these two are the up-and-coming Louis B. Mayers.

SLO was brimming over with bonhomie – always a bad sign. When he is irascible is when he is sincere. Milton treats me like an executive, which is nice! He asked me all the details of the houses, the servants, Plod and the airport reception.

SLO absolutely promised Milton that Vivien and he would be on hand ‘to welcome Marilyn and Arthur’ and join in the press conference.

‘But let’s keep it low key, old boy.’

SLO wants the minimum publicity of course, and Milton says he does too. I wonder if both men have the same definition of ‘minimum’. I suspect SLO really means ‘none’ and Milton means ‘front page of every paper in the world – but no scandal’. There is a new publicity man around who has been ringing newspapers all day – ostensibly to notify everyone about the press conference even though this has already been done by the Pinewood press office.

Whenever they have a chance, Milton and SLO go into very private conference, talking fast and low. ‘MM worries’ I suppose, that even Mr P and I are not allowed to know about.

WEDNESDAY, 11 JULY

Milton rang from Tibbs Farm – could we all go down there for lunch. He was tired after the flight. Mr P was delighted. He is more curious than he lets on! I drove down in the Bristol, behind Mr P and Tony in the Princess. That way Milton can meet the chauffeur MM will have. SLO met us there as it is nearer Notley. Everyone agreed that Tibbs is perfect – out of Milton’s earshot that is. Nouveau-riche – bathrooms smelling of pot pourri and towels so thick and soft that they don’t even dry your hands. SLO gazed round in genuine horror. He is used to Vivien’s exquisite taste.

Gilman said, ‘This is a bit of all right, Colin,’ loudly enough to embarrass me and please Milton who thinks it is typically ‘English’.

There was a huge bunch of roses in the Bentley from Vivien which Gilman took through to the kitchen to find a vase. A buffet lunch had been prepared by the Cotes-Preedy cook – mainly reheated delicacies from the Ascot shop which I recognised from my stay here. Milton had ordered salad and cold white wine, which made it seem American. SLO had also brought a lot of Olivier cigarettes.

‘I get them free, dear boy,’ he said with much pride, but I don’t think Milton smokes. Perhaps he is a health and fitness addict.

After lunch Milton and SLO went into conference again, this time allowing Mr P and Tony in too. I hope Mr P has some gossip for me later.

At teatime we drove over to Englefield Green to see Parkside House. The Moores have left and only the servants are waiting for MM and her party. Plod will move in on Friday and the chauffeur will live out. Parkside really is too pretty for words. It is right on the edge of Windsor Great Park and has its own private entrance to the Royal Gardens – or so I’m told. It is in quite different taste to Tibbs – much more elegant and feminine thanks to Joan. The master bedroom has been repainted white. I never saw it when Joan was in it. (I wish I had though!) Everyone was delighted. Milton praised me very highly for both houses and Mr P beamed, for once.

SLO hadn’t come, of course. He’d been to the house as a guest of Garrett and Joan’s. I don’t think SLO likes Garrett any more than I do. Garrett is famous for sneering at people less clever or less titled than himself – which means pretty well everyone. I must admit that I am pleased with the arrangements so far, but everyone warns me that the day MM arrives, the rules will all change. She is the most famous woman in the world, though, so I would expect her to be pretty wilful. The worst thing is to have all that clout and not know your own mind. If she says her favourite colour is beige, that has to be a definite possibility. Then she will be as dangerous as a Chinese Empress. We’ll see in three days’ time.

THURSDAY, 12 JULY

The press are really getting worked up about MM’s impending arrival. They phone me up hourly, demanding interviews with MM and SLO. I tell them that there will be a press conference at the airport and another at the Savoy Hotel on Sunday but of course they already know this and they want more. Any request for MM has to go through the loathsome Arthur P. Jacobs who is coming back to the Savoy tomorrow. It isn’t that MM wants to avoid publicity – publicity more than anything else has got her where she is. But you have to control how much money you print. Even publicity has to be rationed out to get the maximum effect. APJ is meant to be the expert on this.

But there is a new publicity/personal relations man who is very nice. He is an Englishman, who nevertheless works from Hollywood, called Rupert Allan32 and he is the opposite to APJ, quiet, dignified, polite. Perhaps he acts as the antidote to APJ’s type of poison.

MM’s personal make-up man has also flown in. He came in to the office this morning, unannounced, ‘just to say “Hi”’. His name is Allan Snyder but ‘Call me Whitey’ is his opening remark to everyone. Impassive, and courteous, he is a great contrast to the Hollywood types we were expecting. Evidently he used to be a great influence on MM and is still a great friend. She insists on his presence on each of her films. I wonder if he was ever her lover, too. In our case, he only has a limited work visa so he is doing her original make-up and then someone English will take over. Frankly I wish he was staying for the whole movie. He has a wonderfully calming presence which could be a great help. But he clearly doesn’t want to stay more than a few weeks anyway.

‘I love Marilyn,’ he said with a nice open grin, ‘but I do not want to find myself responsible for her behaviour.’

Now he has wandered off to explore London. He gives no address and simply says he will see us at Pinewood next Tuesday. Even Mr P, who deeply distrusts all Americans, seemed to like him. I hope he doesn’t come to any harm in Soho! He is probably not as naive as he seems.

FRIDAY, 13 JULY

Mr P’s distrust of Americans was justified. Arthur Jacobs went to London Airport and changed all our careful plans for MM’s arrival tomorrow. Once again the police there assumed the worst, jumping to the conclusion that all we all want is maximum disruption and publicity. In the end, one of them thought to telephone me. I didn’t even know APJ was out there so I got very cross. I pointed out that they had promised to listen to no one but me; that APJ was a publicity man whose job was to get publicity whether his client wanted it or not; that SLO and MM’s producers had both instructed me to arrange MM’s arrival with minimum fuss etc. But the papers are nerving everyone up and the police are edgy.

Luckily APJ is so loud-mouthed and overbearing that they would much rather disobey him. I have promised to get there really early tomorrow morning and go over the details again. I do remember from the days of Gaby Pascal and Jean Simmons33 that once show business retinues get on the move, it is very hard to influence them or deflect them. They are like rivers. They jolly well go where they want to, so you have to make the banks good and high. London Airport is very big and if we lose control there will be chaos. The police are efficient and charming, but like all men in uniform they will take orders from anyone in authority. It’s going to be a close-run thing.

APJ did have one success out there, I must admit. So oogle-eyed are the junior cops about MM that four motorcycle riders have volunteered to escort her car from the airport to Englefield Green. Evidently that is an honour never granted to anyone before except visiting royalty. I hope MM is impressed. It is not the sort of thing SLO and Mr P meant by minimum fuss, but I must agree it sounds exciting.

SATURDAY, 14 JULY

The first problem was that it rained.

After all the fine weather we’ve had, a light rain was falling when I woke up and it got heavier. I got to the airport early and went straight to the police office to make everything as clear as possible. But within an hour APJ and his minions were there trying to make everything as confused as possible.

Milton Greene arrived, very nervous, and was all too ready to listen to APJ’s panicky lies. Quite soon he too was trying to change the plans around. Rupert Allan also had ideas of his own, even if they were expressed a bit more calmly.

Luckily I had Plod on my side, and he could speak to the police in their own language. But he is so unflappable and monosyllabic that we often did not get heard.

As the time of arrival grew near, everyone began to get very crazy. MM is like Desdemona: ‘It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont and makes men mad.’34

By the time the plane from New York actually landed there were reporters everywhere. The first I saw of them was a bunch of yelling waving men in raincoats in Immigration. The Customs officers had lost their heads and been swept away. I suppose the very thought of searching MM’s person had been too much for them.

In the middle of this rabble stood Arthur Miller, teeth clenched on an unlit pipe, grinning like an amiable crocodile. The girl he had his arm around was unmistakably Marilyn Monroe. She looked so exactly like her publicity photographs – blonde hair, white face, scarlet lips in a pout – that it was hard to see the person. Added to this she had on huge very dark dark-glasses.

Poor woman. She must have been very tired after the flight. I suppose her life is permanent chaos. As for Jacobs, on whom she depends for help and guidance, he clearly had only one aim – namely to create the maximum confusion and even physical danger. Then he could step in and appear to save her from the very problems he himself had generated. In the blur of faces and cameras, he would be the only one she would recognise, and turn to with gratitude.

AM had clearly decided to grin whatever happened and be steered by the crowd. He recognised no one, not even APJ.

Milton Greene was too small to have any effect. Plod and I are total unknowns. We flung ourselves into the crowd and only added to the confusion.

Somehow the police managed to steer this whole mad rabble into the hall set up for the press conference where SLO and Vivien were waiting. I left the main group and went to defend Vivien, with Gilman, as the riot spread all over the room. MM and AM were lifted bodily onto the podium, and I was glad to see one of the cops giving APJ a good jab in the solar plexus. (He later threatened to have all the police at Heathrow fired!) Everyone was shouting at once and MM just looked confused and frightened. Finally Rupert Allan got onto the stage and quietened them all down. He announced that MM would make a short statement and then leave for a private destination to rest, until the main press conference at the Savoy tomorrow. Then MM took off her dark glasses and gave that famous smile and every flash bulb in the room popped at once creating such a blinding flash that she put the glasses back on immediately.

In a breathy little girl’s voice, MM said that she was very glad to be in England at last, with her husband (looking fondly at Arthur), and how excited she was to be making a film with SLO. SLO got up to reply but no one took any notice and they all started yelling questions at MM. So he gave up and we literally strong-armed it to the exit.

MM and AM got into the Princess with Milton and APJ and they swished off with the four motorbike policemen in dangerously close formation. SLO and Vivien got into the Bentley with Gilman and followed right behind. I had to go to get the Bristol with Plod so the press cars got in between us.

When we arrived at Parkside House the press were lined up outside the gate with the four cops preventing them from going in. Plod persuaded them to let us through and we found AM and MM and SLO outside the front door on the gravel.

AM whispered in MM’s ear, MM whispered to Milton and he nodded. Then he sent me over to the reporters to tell them they could all come up the drive for one last photo. MM and AM stood in the doorway and smiled, arm in arm, before disappearing inside. Plod and I followed and Milton introduced Plod (but not me) to MM and AM. I don’t think MM took in a word, but as Plod is going to live in her house she will soon get used to him.

‘Well, we are going to bed,’ said AM with a huge leer.

I thought this pretty vulgar. I saw MM notice it without much pleasure, but she pretended not to catch on so perhaps she is smarter than she looks. AM certainly doesn’t behave like America’s most eminent intellectual. More like an overgrown schoolboy. But MM has a very appealing aura, even if physically she is not my type. A bit too exaggerated.

Before SLO left he had said: ‘I hope things are better organised tomorrow.’

I’ll do my best but I think that even he has underestimated the press hunger for MM.

SUNDAY, 15 JULY

Except for the large crowd outside – and who organised that I wonder – the press conference was orderly. In fact it was predictable and dull. SLO arrived without Vivien. He was already in a bad temper – nose out of joint, perhaps? Mr P came sniffing around to have a look at how things were going on and a squint at MM. Irving Stein and APJ were already there – what a pair. APJ had clearly lost centre stage to Milton, who arrived with MM and AM.