Tragic Hollywood, Beautiful, Glamorous And Dead Read online

  Olive and Jack Pickford

  Ollie became the toast of this wealthy, twisted men's underworld. She was showered with expensive gifts and lurid proposals. They were the lords of Wall Street, important businessmen, and politicians. A well-heeled foreign ambassador was said to have gifted her a ten thousand dollar pearl necklace, roughly a two hundred thousand dollar value today. She was introduced to the wild, dangerous world of the nonstop party, a world she embraced fully. In turn-of-the-century, pre-depression America, cocaine and heroin were still legal, even though booze was soon to be outlawed.

  Ollie became Mr. Ziegfeld’s mistress, as well as his most popular ingénue. Ziegfeld became quite angry when Jack Pickford (Mary Pickford’s spoiled, reckless younger brother) entered Ollie's life, sweeping her away to Hollywood. There, Ollie signed with Triangle Pictures, and starred in a series of light comedies for them, which put her in direct competition with her new sister-in-law, Mary Pickford. Pickford’s dislike of Thomas was well-known at the time. Mary did not think Olive—with her working class upbringing and dubious Frolics career—a suitable wife for her baby brother, nor cut from a cloth of the quality required to be admitted into her prestigious family. She completely ignored the fact that her brother was a notorious drug addict and philanderer on his own, who was already dealing with syphilis as a result of his flagrantly promiscuous behavior. She wrote in her autobiography: “I regret to say that none of us approved of the marriage at the time. Mother thought that Jack was too young, and Lottie and I thought that Olive, being in musical comedy, belonged to an alien world.” Obviously, “musical comedy” was a euphemism for burlesque.

  Screenwriter Frances Marion wrote of Jack and Olive: “Two innocent looking children, they were the gayest, wildest brats ever to stir the stardust on Broadway. Both were talented but they were much more interested in playing the roulette of life than concentrating on their careers.”

  Despite the pressure of the fuming disdain from her in-laws, Olive thrived in Hollywood. She performed in one successful film after another, and even came to be known as America’s sweetheart...to the supreme irritation of Mary Pickford, no doubt.

  Behind the scenes, Ollie was infamous for her high-energy, relentless curiosity about the process of filmmaking, as well as her shockingly unladylike language. One account tells of an elderly woman in a hotel lobby who dropped her knitting. Olive noticed, picked it the knitting, and handed it to the woman, her humungous diamond ring flashing in the woman’s face. “My! How wonderful to have a ring as beautiful as that!” the old woman gushed. Olive replied, “It's easy, honey. I got this for two humps with a Jew, in Palm Beach.” She reportedly crashed her car several times, always walking away with minor cuts and bruises. She and Jack were regulars at all the wildest, wickedest, and most decadent Hollywood parties.

  Of course, it couldn’t last. Though the press portrayed them as the happiest couple in town, the inner circle knew that the marriage was stormy and turbulent, with Jack juggling multiple affairs. Large quantities of alcohol and drugs were ingested nightly, and when the couple flew to Paris for a vacation in 1920, the consensus held that it was a last-ditch effort to save the marriage, and so yet another round of nonstop partying ensued in the bistros and nightclubs of the Montparnasse neighborhood of Paris. At one point, Jack left Olive in Paris, and went to London for a few days. The true reason he left is still a mystery, though his stated one was to “do some shopping.” He couldn’t do that in Paris? Some say that he and Olive had an argument, and afterwards Jack ran off to sulk in the arms of another woman. When he returned, he and Olive took up where they left off, hitting the party circuit with renewed and unmitigated vigor.

  On September 5, at around 3 AM, Olive and Jack returned to their hotel suite in Montparnasse, after still another night of merrymaking. Jack immediately fell asleep, but Olive was restless, supposedly due to a headache. Pickford claimed that he woke to screams coming from the bathroom. He rushed in, only to find his wife in a panic. “Is the mercury bichloride in the medicine cabinet?” she stammered. Jack checked, and reported, “No. Only the aspirin is there.” She became hysterical, and sobbed, “Then I’ve taken poison!” This was Jack’s official version of the story. He also claimed—falsely—that the stuff that would kill his young, beautiful wife five agonizing days later was toilet cleaner. It was not. The pills were a prescription for Jack’s syphilis sores.

  The press went wild with suicide rumors and lurid tales of debauchery, even as Olive lay dying, grieving husband at her side. Many reports suggested Olive took the poison on purpose, thinking her life with Jack—whom she desperately loved—was unsustainable due to his inability to remain faithful, and his serious substance abuse issues. The fact that she did not take a small dose, but an ENTIRE BOTTLE, bears this out. How does someone swallow an entire bottle of poison by mistake, even if they are tired and/or drunk? A reporter from the Los Angeles Examiner, F. C. Bertelli, claimed he interviewed the doctor in charge of the case toward the end, Dr. Warden. Bertelli quoted Warden in his article as saying, “A police investigation would show whether she took the poison on purpose, as the medical evidence suggests, or by accident, as is claimed.” Either way, Olive Thomas, one of film’s brightest stars and most beautiful faces, was dead at twenty-six.

  Her funeral in New York City drew thousands of grief-struck fans, with many fainting from stress. It was elaborate, expensive, and reportedly paid for in full—not by her husband—but her former lover: Mr. Ziegfeld. Seems he never got over Ollie, even keeping the nude oil painting of her by the famous artist, Vargas, behind his desk for decades, which must have annoyed the shit out of his loyal wife, actress Billie Burke.

  The whole truth about Olive’s death will never be known, as everyone involved is now long dead, and no official written record of the details of her death remain. Her beloved Jack died in 1933, from complications of syphilis and substance abuse, at the age of thirty-seven; adding one last, tragic footnote to the story of the 'Beauty and the Golden Boy', perched on the precipice of life–ever so delicately balanced–until their fatal fall.

  ”Memories Of Olive”, a painting of Ollie by Alberto Vargas

  Thomas Ince

  Whenever fame, money and scandal come together, there are the makings of a great story. Even today, the facts of the ‘Thomas Ince Affair’, as it has come to be known, are still passionately debated by historians and film buffs alike. Yet the man at the center of the scandal, Thomas Ince, was far more than some distant headline, or some unpleasant walk-on in someone else’s biography. He was an actor, director, producer, writer, innovator and studio head, and rarely was or is recognized for his true accomplishments.

  Ince was one of the most well-liked and innovative men in Hollywood, when he died at the age of forty-two. Starting with a history as a failed actor in vaudeville acts, he made his way to directing Westerns for the IMP film company in New York, owned by Carl Laemmle. Ince had bigger dreams, so he borrowed an expensive suit and a diamond ring, and arranged to meet with Charles O. Baumann, whose studio had just been contracted to open a new studio in Hollywood for the sole purpose of making westerns. Thomas laid it on thick, passing himself off as a more established filmmaker than he really was. Baumann ate it up. Ince was shocked when the ploy worked, and he was soon making movies in Hollywood, for the princely sum of one hundred fifty dollars a week.

  The town of Inceville, circa 1918.

  Ince went on to change the entire film industry by building the first prototype of a modern Hollywood movie studio. He developed writing and filming techniques that are standard procedure today, such as the use of shooting scripts, and second unit directors to shoot separate scenes simultaneously. He realized that he needed a place where he could have more control over every aspect of filming, so he built a compound in the Santa Ynez Canyon near Santa Monica, that would later be known as Inceville—the first movie studio.

  By all accounts, Inceville was amazing. Several thousand acres were filled with stages along with
whole neighborhoods of multicolored houses; from the humblest shack to the most gigantic mansion. Architectural styles of many countries and periods were on hand, from Japanese villages to French chalets. He even hired performers from a wild west show to live onsite, including an entire Sioux tribe who happily pitched their teepees there. William S. Hart, famed western star, was first coaxed into film by Ince on a tour of Inceville. The story goes that Hart had a fear of horses, and so couldn’t work in westerns, but Ince coaxed him to mount a pony so short his feet nearly touched the ground. This worked for Hart, who started doing westerns, and the rest was history. Inceville was his Ince’s kingdom, over it he reigned, and from the elaborate mansion he had built for himself, he could turn fear into a career.

  Ince sold Inceville to Hart—who fell in love with it during that first tour—building a new studio in Culver City, Culver Studios. Inceville became Hartville, then fell into disrepair after several fires. Today, it is only a memory. Ince kept making movies at his Culver Studios, which still stands today on Culver Boulevard. The administration building is instantly familiar, not only for its likeness to Mount Vernon, but because the façade was the inspiration for Tara’s exterior in Gone with the Wind. Culver Studios had forty colonial revival-style buildings, a fire department, a hospital, and a swimming pool. Royalty and presidents toured it and came away impressed. Ince had the world in his pocket for a little while. And then, well, there are many conflicting and contradictory versions of what happened the night of November 16, 1924, and most are pure speculation. What is known is: Ince’s streak came abruptly to an end.

  William Randolph Hearst, wealthy newspaper magnate, and his mistress, actress Marion Davies, hosted a party aboard Hearst’s yacht, Oneida. Guests included Charlie Chaplin, and gossip columnist Louella Parsons, though both Davies and Parsons later insisted Parsons was not there, and Chaplin insisted for years that he wasn’t either. Also onboard was physician Dr. Goodman. Some said this was a belated birthday party for Ince, but Davies denied this, saying it was just a party that Ince was invited to only at the request of his wife, Nell, who thought he could use the rest. However, there is a photo of Davies on a dock, dozens of giant balloons clutched in her arms, possibly welcoming Ince onto the Oneida, which lends credence to the birthday claim.

  A lavish dinner and much merrymaking followed, but no drinking, claimed Davies. Others said the booze flowed freely. Later, Ince reportedly told doctors that he had consumed alcohol there. Hearst was a known teetotaler, who did not tolerate booze in his presence, but that would not stop guests from sneaking their own aboard, so the truth likely lies somewhere in-between.

  During the night, Ince fell violently ill. He was dropped off in San Diego, and put on a train to Los Angeles. However, Dr. Goodman held that he was up early with Ince on Monday morning to leave the yacht with him, and return home before the others woke up. Ince suffered a heart attack while en route, and was taken from the train to a hotel, where another physician, Dr. T.A. Parker, was consulted. If Dr. Goodman believed Ince was having a heart attack, why didn’t he see Ince to a hospital? Ince’s wife was called, and she rushed to her husband’s side. Again, rather than be taken to a hospital, Ince insisted he be taken home, and so was brought home to Los Angeles, where he died in his wife’s arms the very next day.

  The front page of the Wednesday morning edition of the Los Angeles Times blared “Movie Producer Shot On Hearst Yacht!” Hearst didn’t own the LA Times. By the evening edition, the salacious headline was gone, and the Thursday morning edition read only that Ince had died of a heart ailment brought on by acute indigestion. If not for that single, errant headline, would Ince’s death still pique the interests of people today? Doubtful.

  Rumors said Hearst found Ince with Davies in a compromising position, then pulled out his diamond-encrusted pistol, shooting Ince. In another version, Hearst found them in a dark area of the yacht, and shot Ince, mistaking him for Charlie Chaplin. In another version, Hearst caught Chaplin and Davies together in bed, got his gun, and shot at Chaplin, who tried to escape by running down the gangplank. Hearst missed Chaplin, but hit Ince instead, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chaplin made no secret of his infatuation with Davies, and credible evidence of an affair is extant. In her autobiography, however, Davies denied ever returning his affections, and expressed mild disdain for the director. “I don’t think there was anything wrong with him,“ she said, “except that he was a little cracked.” Allegedly, Parsons, who was elevated from lowly columnist to the top syndicated entertainment writer for Hearst publications soon afterwards, witnessed the entire incident.

  The press went wild, at least those not controlled by Hearst Corporation, and the rumors spread like a grass fire. At least one eyewitness, Chaplin’s secretary Toraichi Kono, reported seeing Ince carried off the boat with a bullet wound in his head. The San Diego District Attorney’s office was finally forced to look into it. At least thirteen people were aboard the Oneida that night, not counting crew and paid performers. Yet, the investigation consisted of a single interview: Dr. Daniel Carson Goodman, who stated that Ince was not shot, but suffered from indigestion, or a heart ailment, or both. Why shouldn’t the good doctor be taken at his word? That he was no longer a practicing physician, but was the head of production for Hearst’s film company was irrelevant to the DA. The case was closed, the death ruled a result of “natural causes.” Nell Ince immediately had her husband’s body cremated, and left for Europe. She didn’t leave empty-handed, however. For decades, rumors of a substantial Hearst-funded trust for her and the kids persisted, and say that he even paid off Ince’s mortgage on an apartment building, the Chateau Elysee, still standing today at 5930 Franklin Avenue. The scientologists currently inhabiting it will be happy to give you a tour if you ask.

  In a bizarre twist, Abigail Kinsolving—Davies’ secretary—told police that Ince raped her that night. This sounds preposterous at first, but Kinsolving was not married, and did indeed give birth to a child nine months after the party, and then died in a mysterious automobile accident just a few months after that, an accident that occurred very near to Hearst’s San Simeon castle. Hearst security guards found her body. A strange suicide note was also discovered, and some said it appeared to be written by two different people. Her child was placed in an orphanage, and was supposedly financially supported by Davies for years.

  Did Hearst kill Thomas Ince, deliberately or otherwise? Did he shoot Ince for raping Kinsolving? Ince was a well-liked man by all accounts. Marion said of him, “There was nothing wolfy about him, not a bit. He wanted to be friendly with everybody, and he was jovial and good-natured.” Doesn’t sound like a rapist. But then, there was the rumor that Ince had a secret room built in his new Benedict Canyon home, for which only he had a key. It connected to a passageway, and a secret viewing space from where he could observe his famous houseguests engaged in intimate activity undetected. Allegedly, this chamber was discovered after Nell Ince sold the home following his death. There are so many unanswered questions about this case that just won’t go away. Why would all the physicians who attended Ince, including those that were never aboard the yacht, and therefore not subject to Hearst’s influence, insist that he was suffering from a heart ailment? His own family physician listed the cause of death as a heart attack on the death certificate. A bullet wound is hard to miss, and he had nothing to gain by lying. It’s not surprising that Hearst would try to help widowed Nell Ince, as he was known to be extremely generous, and probably felt partially responsible for her husband having fallen ill while being his guest. There is actually no real proof that he did provide for her, however, only speculation. If he did, it wasn’t enough to ensure her financial security past the stock market crash of ’29, and forestall her subsequent life as a taxi cab driver.

  What is often lost when discussing the ‘Thomas Ince Affair’ is Thomas Ince himself. His contributions to the film industry, and his pioneering development of the first modern studio cannot be overstated. Ye
t he is little remembered today, save as a brief footnote in countless other publications. He will always be remembered as the man who was possibly murdered by William Randolph Hearst. What a sad legacy for such a remarkable and talented man.

  The Chateau Elysee, Hollywood.

  Alma Rubens

  There once was a beautiful, delicate girl who enchanted everyone who knew her. She lit up the screen, and quickly became a star. Her name was Alma Rubens, and her story is beyond sad.

  Alma got her start in the world of show business at a very young age, first as a chorus girl in musical comedies. Soon, she was acting in the new medium of motion pictures. Quickly achieving success and recognition in such films as Birth of a Nation and Intolerance, she then made three high profile films with the extremely popular Douglas Fairbanks, launching into real stardom.

  With her captivating beauty, the doors of the Hollywood elite swung wide open. The parties glittering and decadent, the company intoxicating (in more ways than one), and the lifestyle exhausting. She was required to work nonstop during the day, and then to attend one social event after another in the evening. Soon, the endless schedule took its toll, and Alma showed signs of serious drug addiction. The offers slowed, and her lucid periods shrank, until it all came to a head one bizarre morning. People reported a crazy woman running down Hollywood Boulevard, tearing her clothes off, and screaming she’d been kidnapped. Two men in white lab coats chased her, and when they finally caught her, she stabbed one of them viciously in the shoulder with a concealed knife. Thus, Alma’s secret was out. She had escaped while being transferred to a mental facility for treatment of her heroin addiction. With her worrisome fall from grace, the motion picture studio doors slammed shut to her, and her career was over.