Marilyn received dispiriting career news: early in 1957, when Oscar nominations for 1956 were announced, she wasn’t on the list. Even worse: fellow Actors Studio actress Carroll Baker was nominated for Baby Doll, a role Marilyn had wanted. Perhaps the coup de grace: Don Murray, the newcomer launched to stardom thanks to being Marilyn’s leading man, was nominated for Best Supporting Actor. Poor Marilyn! “I never understood why she wasn’t nominated,” reflected Murray in later years. Both the movie and director Logan were also ignored by the Academy. “Marilyn had defied the system,” noted David Brown, “and you needed the studio behind you all the way to get nominations.” Don Murray felt that not only should Marilyn have been nominated, she should have won. “I thought Marilyn’s performance was so much richer, had so much more variety, and it was so much more interesting than Ingrid Bergman’s character in Anastasia,” he said.
Unknown to many, Marilyn Monroe became a temporary but rather unstable member of the Rat Pack. Columnist Dorothy Kilgallen, an enemy of Sinatra, wrote that he dated some of the great beauties and stars of their day, including Lana Turner, Ava Gardner and Marilyn Monroe. “Others,” she claimed, “were fluffy struggling dolls of show business.” Although Joe DiMaggio socialized with Sinatra, he never completely trusted him, especially around Marilyn, causing a rift in the trio. Marilyn wanted to film What a Way to Go with Sinatra, but one night she decided that she preferred Gene Kelly as her co-star. At 20th Century Fox, executives wanted to co-star Marilyn and Sinatra in Pink Tights, a remake of Betty Grable’s 1943 Coney Island. Marilyn was open to the idea of co-starring with Frank in a film in which her character evolves from a prim schoolteacher to a torch-singing cabaret artiste. Frank’s moods—testy, difficult, unpredictable, rebellious, stubborn—were part of the package, as were Marilyn’s. Lauren Bacall, with her born-in-the-Bronx traditional Jewish upbringing, had been accustomed to far less volatile behavior when it came to relationships. Bogie had been “a pussycat.” Bacall had been romanced by Sinatra, but they broke up their announced engagement.
Since marrying Marilyn, Arthur had bought a second farmhouse in Roxbury, Connecticut, an upgrade from his previous home, where he and his ex-wife had lived since 1947, after the success of his play All My Sons. Pleased that Arthur’s property lent itself to improvement, she had an idea. Since she’d once met fabled architect Frank Lloyd Wright, she contacted him with a request—would he be interested in designing her “dream home”? He traveled to the site and came up with a rendering of a home that perhaps a Joseph Schenck or a Darryl Zanuck could afford. She loved it. But it was hardly Arthur Miller’s idea of a “dream home.” And the cost! The pool alone would have been $250,000 ($2.2 million in today’s dollars). Marilyn faced reality: since Wright’s dream house was out of the question, she suggested to Arthur that they make some improvements: raise the roof of the house, add a guest bedroom, get a TV set, and she would do some inexpensive redecorating that would require very little reconstruction. Miller was agreeable. He was handy, describing himself as “a born carpenter and mechanic.” He’d been building things since he was seven.
When Glenn Ford announced Marilyn as the winner of the Golden Globe, there was prolonged applause as she made her way to the podium. When Ford handed her the statuette, she smiled broadly, turned to the audience, and clutched the award to her bosom. In a breathy voice, she said, “Thank you with all my heart.” According to Peter Lawford’s manager, Milton Ebbins, whose comments echoed those of Sinatra’s crony Jilly Rizzo, Frank was in love with Marilyn. Frank thought Marilyn was a great beauty in the same league than Ava Gardner. Marilyn confided in those closest to her that Frank was a skillful, unselfish lover. When they asked how Frank and DiMaggio compared, she purportedly replied: “He’s no Joe.” Frank dared to employ a highly dangerous tactic: he began having sex with Pat Lawford—Peter’s wife, RFK’s sister—hoping he could get her to use her influence with her brothers to let up on the mob. What he got was the undying enmity of Robert Kennedy, who learned about it when J. Edgar Hoover played him audiotapes of a Sinatra's phone conversation with Sam Giancana, during which the information was disclosed. Bobby demanded that his brother sever all ties with Frank.
Frank needed some breathing room, and he began a highly publicized “romance” with twenty-five-year-old dancer/actress Juliet Prowse. They even became “engaged.” She later stated emphatically that the whole affair had been strictly for publicity, for both of them, never anything more. Prowse would later date her co-star Elvis Presley while filming GI Blues, with everyone waiting to see what Elvis would do next in his career after military service. Elvis's one and only meeting with Marilyn Monroe also took place backstage at the Paramount lot in June 1960. In GI Blues, Elvis played Army Specialist Tulsa McLean opposite her nightclub dancer Lili (Juliet Prowse), and their onscreen romance was mirrored behind the scenes. Prowse later said: "Elvis and I had an affair... We had a sexual attraction like two healthy young people, but he was already a victim of his fans. We always met in his room and never went out." Frank's affair with Juliet Prowse apparently did not fool Marilyn for long, because she and Frank got back together.
It was around this time that Sinatra consulted his loyal attorney for an opinion on what he was now contemplating: marrying Monroe. Meanwhile, when the lawyer realized that Sinatra wasn’t joking about marrying Marilyn—he wasn’t acting on a whim or an impulse; he was dead serious—he pointed out to his client how marrying her could be problematic. However, Frank’s mind was made up. If Marilyn was his wife, he said, chances were that everyone would back off, give her some space, and allow her to get herself together. They wouldn’t dare do otherwise. Frank told his lawyer Lew Wasserman that he wanted the marriage to take place in Europe (probably Paris); that way he wouldn’t have to deal with DiMaggio. He told Wasserman to make inquiries about where the best place would be to get married quietly and assured the attorney that he was going to give the whole matter a lot of thought. He likened this decision to a film project in development and said that he was going to talk to Marilyn about it. “And then we’ll see what happens…” No one knows whether that discussion between Marilyn and Frank—did she really want to marry him?—ever took place. According to Jilly Rizzo, Frank did propose before the year 1961 was out, and he was surprised when she said no to him.
Frank was completely supportive of Marilyn’s imminent return to the screen, although he, and the rest of the industry, knew Fox was drowning. Peter Levathes, the executive recently appointed head of production, was “a dark and brooding man,” recalled David Brown. Eventually, Marilyn had won not only the battle with Fox but the respect of the industry. Norma Jean had proven her point: Marilyn Monroe was not a “disposable” star. It’s unlikely that so many questions would have been raised surrounding her untimely death if her efforts at resuscitating her career had failed. According to Arthur Schlesinger, Bobby Kennedy, “with his curiosity, his sympathy, his absolute directness of response to distress, in some way got through the glittering mist as few did.” Bobby certainly seemed to have a crush on Marilyn. She denied rumors of the affair, although she knew it was the talk of Hollywood. According to columnist Victor Lasky, "The White House was shaken by Marilyn’s death. The truth was that there had indeed been a cover-up, one designed to protect the Kennedys by hiding their relationship with the actress."
During the course of that ill-fated July weekend at Cal Neva, several disturbing incidents took place. In her bungalow, number 52, in front of Frank and the Lawfords, Marilyn removed several syringes from her purse, placed them on a table, and, with the cool precision of a surgeon, calmly filled them with the contents of a few “vitamin” capsules she had broken open. They all gasped as she proceeded to inject herself in the arm. Sinatra couldn’t believe what he just saw. “Don’t worry,” she said airily, “I know what I’m doing. It gets into your system faster that way.” Frank immediately phoned Dr. Greenson: Marilyn was a mess! What the hell was Greenson doing? She ought to be in a sanatorium! Frank had done everything he could to make her stay at Cal Neva comfortable, including issuing special orders for healthful meals to be sent to her bungalow. That was Mama Dolly’s cure-all: eat, you’ll feel better! The food, though, was hardly touched. Things seemed to spin out of control and Marilyn overdosed on barbiturates. The Lawfords were panic-stricken, but Frank knew what to do—along with Peter and Pat, he walked her around the room, keeping her awake with coffee. “She wants to kill herself,” said Frank, “I’ve been there…”
Late in 1963, Angie Dickinson—whose friendship with Sinatra would stand the test of time—arrived in New York to promote her MCA/Universal film Captain Newman, M.D. Interestingly, the picture was based on Dr. Ralph Greenson’s World War II experiences with soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Ms. Dickinson said how proud she was of the picture, saying that it was one she would like the president to see (there was no question that she wasn’t talking about the president of Universal). Ms. Dickinson’s relationship with JFK was very much a topic of conversation within the inner sanctums of MCA/Universal. Ms. Dickinson spoke openly. She’d liked Marilyn, and had seen her not long before she died. “She looked gorgeous,” she said, “but when I spoke with her, she didn’t recognize me. There was no expression in her eyes. Her eyes had a blankness.”
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