The Opposite Sex, Dick Powell's Model Wife: Joan Blondell vs June Allyson

No one remembered exactly when Joan Blondell met Dick Powell, or when she stopped seeing him as a fellow contract player at Warner Bros. and started seeing him as a potential suitor. By the time they made Broadway Gondolier, they had already appeared in four movies together. They were first spotted dating in late September of 1935, less than one month after Joan’s divorce from cinematographer George Barnes. Joan began to see why Dick Powell was one of the most well-liked men in town. Powell was personable and upbeat and a great asset to any party. He had a rendition of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling,” sung slightly off-key, that James Cagney said was “one of the funniest things he’d ever heard.” Dick Powell was born on 14 November 1904 in Mountain View, Arkansas. In 1914, his parents moved the family to Little Rock, where he grew up with two brothers. As a young man he discovered a talent for music. “I started out with two assets,” he once said, “a voice that didn’t drive audiences into the streets and determination. I’ve always worked like a dog.” He mastered the piccolo, sax, trumpet, and the banjo, then joined a number of bands and toured in vaudeville. His dark, wavy hair, dimples, twinkling eyes, high cheek bones, and nice smile provided him with boyish appeal. He was drawn to the spotlight, but his ambitions were stalled by an ill-advised marriage to a Little Rock native, Mildred Maund. They eventually divorced due to Dick’s constant touring.

On contract at Warner Bros. since 1932, his movie popularity had come as quickly and completely as Joan’s. He saved and invested wisely. When he had enough money, he bought a house for his parents in North Hollywood. The only scandal that accompanied him so far was his short affair with actress Marion Davies that had been oddly unnoticed by W.R. Hearst. Just as the Blondell-Powell romance began to simmer, Joan cranked out a team effort with Glenda Farrell called Miss Pacific Fleet. After her forthright letters to Hal Wallis, Joan believed this latest show-girl part was a catalyst for her career. Romance with Powell was getting serious, and it was time to meet the parents. Dick’s mother found Joan to be “a lovely girl and a perfectly beautiful one.” Joan’s parents similarly voiced their approval of Powell. Even her close sister Gloria, currently touring in It’s a Wise Child on stage, thought Dick Powell was really good for her big sister. Compared to George Barnes, Powell seemed nice and easy to live with. Warner Bros. decided to unite the pair in two more movies. 

The first one, Stage Struck, was cursed with Joan’s sprained ankle and Dick’s throat problems. But Joan once again proved amusing as a temperamental actress of marginal talent who finances her way to fame in musical comedies after shooting her husband. (Echoes of Beulah Annan and Peggy Hopkins Joyce were likely to be intentional.) No one was much impressed by Stage Struck. Orry-Kelly declared Joan’s mouth the most beautiful in Hollywood. Significant, too, was the fact that Dick Powell visited her in her dressing room to go over lines. Fan mail for Blondell and Powell increased, and Warner Bros. began treating both of them like proper stars. In Gold Diggers of 1937, she played a chorus girl, while Dick was a dull life insurance salesman. Finally, their newfound mutual attraction translated onscreen. 

As the last Gold Diggers musical, there were hummable tunes sprinkled throughout, including “With Plenty of Money and You,” “Speaking of the Weather,” and the lavish showstopper “All’s Fair in Love and War.” Joan and Dick frantically completed Gold Diggers of 1937 in time to stage their showy wedding. On 11 September 1936, they filed a marriage application amid hundreds of gawking civic employees at the Los Angeles County Marriage License Bureau. On 17 September, they announced that they would be married in two days on the yacht Santa Paula at San Pedro shortly before it was to sail from Los Angeles to New York. Joan’s hairdresser-confidant, Ruth Pursley, was maid of honor, and Dick’s good friend, actor Regis Toomey, was best man. For reasons never divulged, Dick’s parents were not there. The onboard reception for fifty guests was attended by Busby Berkeley, James Cagney, Glenda Farrell, Orry-Kelly, Mervyn LeRoy, and, as a business courtesy, Hal Wallis. Joan gushed, “I’m deliriously happy,” as she lifted her glass of champagne. “This is the greatest event of my life,” said Dick. Dick was a friendly guy, freely giving autographs to fans, but the stress of a fishbowl honeymoon sent him to bed with an ardor-suppressing cold. Dick had orchestrated the refurbishing of an English-style house on North Maple Drive in Beverly Hills to coincide with the honeymoon. Dick was also an attentive stepfather to Norman and won Joan’s affection when he knocked the wheels off of a trailer home in the backyard, set the body on blocks, and filled it with Norman’s toys. 

Joan was thrilled that Dick wanted more kids as Joan had “no intention of letting her one child grow up without brothers or sisters.” Joan was enjoying domesticity like never before, in part because Dick, unlike George, was a fully participating spouse. Joan wanted nothing more than stability without overwork, and to keep a stable address. Dick had other plans, since he saw their house as an investment besides a home and this brought considerable friction to the marriage. There were arguments about where to move, whether to buy or lease, add a wing here, knock down a wall there. In March, the Powells moved to a 1920s Tudor-style house on Selma Avenue near Fairfax, previously owned by actress Fay Wray and her husband, writer John Monk Saunders. It was one block from Schwab’s drugstore and next door to screenwriter Frances Marion’s huge estate known in Hollywood as “the Enchanted Hill.” The house was set among eucalyptus trees, with a broad front lawn framed by low hedges. Joan did not grieve Maple Drive long and got busy applying her eclectic taste. They were by all appearances happy, committed to their children, and delighting in a shared sense of humor. With him in a purple dressing gown and her in lounging pajamas, and coffee percolating on the mahogany side table, they fielded softball questions from high-ranking New York Times film reporter Bosley Crowther.

Dick had recently completed Naughty but Nice and singing royalties kept him awash in money. His ventures into real estate were exceedingly rewarding, as property values rose exponentially during the great twentiethcentury migration into Southern California. Joan appreciated that Dick’s boyish charm belied a clever businessman. As for movies, he was frankly demoralized by seven years of playing the All American crooner. Contract playing in Hollywood held little appeal to him. Thanks to Dick’s skill with savings and real estate, the Powells invested in vacation property. In honor of their love of the sea, they signed a ninety-nine-year lease on an old Irvine Ranch house in Newport Beach. It was not large, just three bedrooms, but it was open and airy, and it included a private dock. The outside was painted in gunmetal blue-gray and adorned with yellow flower pots filled with geraniums. Model Wife was the last movie Joan made with Dick. 

They play employees of a hoity-toity salon run by an imperious biddy who prohibits her staff from being married. But Joan and Dick secretly are—and to each other. All’s tidy until the boss’s son woos Joan and enrages Dick. After rumors spread about Joan seeing Broadway impresario Mike Todd, Dick Powell went to see Broadway musical comedy Best Foot Forward at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre and was taken with sprightly young cast member June Allyson, who sang the praises of the barrelhouse, blues, and boogie-woogie in the “Three B’s” showstopper. Dick went backstage to meet her, and she was agape that a star of his rank would single her out. Joan began going solo to the exclusive Cub Room of the Stork Club, that see-and-be-seen nightclub on East Fifty-third frequented by the café society of Broadway, Hollywood, and Washington. Mike Todd frequented the Stork Club as well. The man was singularly charismatic. He could walk into a room and suck up all the available oxygen with his bear-trap mouth, ubiquitous cigar, and rattling voice. Beat the Band was an incidental moment in an outsized life, except that it offered him an introduction to Dick Powell’s wife. Mike Todd was used to getting what he wanted. 

And right now he wanted Joan. Dick usually kept a sunny disposition at home. He tinkered around the house, helping the kids build model planes or play musical instruments. Dick had installed an advanced music system and alternatively played ’78s of classical music or the up-to-date Bing Crosby and Sammy Kaye.The unraveling of the Powells marriage began in early 1943, when Joan ventured to New York. Mike Todd’s pursuit of Joan had been delayed by the onset of the war, but when she wound down her work in the North Atlantic, he made his next move. Born Jacob Hirsch Goldbogen in 1907 to Polish immigrants in Minneapolis, Todd was part P. T. Barnum, part Houdini, and part huckster. He was one of nine children born to a poor rabbi, but somehow his powers of fund-raising and risk-taking were astounding. He once bet a man that he could raise one hundred thousand dollars in one night. He won the bet. Abel Green of Variety noted, “He may parlay himself into the poorhouse or Fort Knox, but in either case he will sup on caviar and champagne.” When he came to show business producing, he had transformed into the Gentilesque Mike Todd. 

The Powells were nearing the crucible of their marriage, and both knew it. Certainly, Joan looked guilty of carrying on a torchy affair during those long months back East, leaving Dick feeling justified in pursuing his own extramarital agenda. According to next-door neighbor Frances Marion, Joan was informed by thirdhand sources of “a certain young lady, dressed like a prim and proper school girl though she had long since emerged from her school days, who came for dinner and left just before the milkman arrived.” She was June Allyson, the Bronx-born hoofer who bewitched Dick Powell on the stage in Best Foot Forward. Mike Todd phoned constantly, telling her that his love and the road show of Something for the Boys would cure her anguish. She was not ready for the 20 January opening of the show in Philadelphia, and the backers were impatient to recoup, so Merman stepped in for three weeks. Dick meanwhile followed the Hollywood wisdom that says a marital split should be accompanied by Dionysian revelry. 

In the early months of 1944, he was seen with June Allyson at Romanoff’s, Ciro’s, Chasen’s, and Mocambo. Joan announced publicly her separation from Dick: “I am going to file against Dick as soon as he returns from the East. . . and after I have talked the matter over with him. The matter of a divorce is final, however.” Dick had moved out, Mike was hot on her heels, and a showdown seemed inevitable. June Allyson further complicated the romantic geometry. While Joan was touring Boys in early 1944, Dick made Meet the People at MGM, conveniently featuring his girlfriend in a supporting role. Later Allyson said it hurt to play the heavy in a marital split, telling Dick, “I didn’t think I was taking you away from anybody.” Powell comforted her by saying that he had been “a chump. Joan came home with a fur coat and she said Mike Todd gave it to her because he couldn’t afford to pay her a salary.” Once again Joan's behavior suggests that she wanted freedom from Dick Powell, who now seemed drab and tightfisted compared to Mike Todd. Whoever was first unfaithful indeed will never be known. 

In one of the great miscalculations of her life, Joan told Norman the truth of his father on the eve of her second divorce. She believed telling Norman that Dick was not his “real” father would soften the pain of a split home. This decision was a tactical catastrophe. Todd was spending time at the Selma house, and whenever Dick intruded, there was screaming and slamming doors followed by the screeching of car tires. On 15 July 1944, Joan went to court to win her freedom from Dick Powell. Dick did not fight for custody, choosing rather to settle out of court to prevent further hurt to the kids. He agreed to pay one hundred dollars each for Norman and Ellen every month and Joan’s divorce settlement money was over $100.000. Joan marveled at Mike Todd's bedroom stamina. In contrast, love making with Dick had been affectionate but somehow routine-like. She had admitted that Dick “made me feel secure,” but Todd brought about her erotic awakening. As a result she rationalized a certain neglect of her children, and a certain burden on her mother. According to Art Cohn, Todd did not gamble to win, he gambled to gamble. “He was a psychopathic loser. He had no card sense,” he wrote. “Why is it that three of the shrewdest gamblers in show business—Sam Goldwyn, Jack Warner, and Mike Todd—are probably the three poorest card players in town?” 

With Joan’s career attenuated, the family had to rely exclusively on Mike’s earnings as a producer. Todd was gripped with an irrational possessiveness, perhaps because fluctuating professional success threatened his identity, selfesteem, and manhood. He and Joan still generated tremendous passion; a casual glance could trigger a blood rush to the loins. But she dreaded having a child by him. In contrast to the George Barnes's multiple (six or seven) abortions, Joan was diligent in practicing conventional birth control, wearing a gold IUD recommended at the time. Norman was given a .22-caliber pump-action rifle and a motor scooter by Dick Powell for his fourteenth birthday, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was supposed to use the rifle on Mike Todd, then flee on his new set of wheels. Joan socialized only with already established friends, including actresses Betty Bruce and Glenda Farrell. She was still close to Gloria in California, they talked at least once a week, and she was thrilled when her sister met, courted, and wed handsome ad man Victor Hunter. 

But Joan’s world was narrowing. By 1949, Todd’s rages were occurring at least once a week, and the children were witnesses. “I am sure he never struck her, but his verbal abuse was so loud that it seemed more intimidating than a physical assault,” said Mike Junior. As the Girls Go company manager David Lawlor noted that she did not always negotiate Mike’s temper. He said, “In my book each gave the other the devil’s due.” Lawlor was in the Irvington kitchen before a Broadway opening when the Todds had a huge altercation, and Joan finished it by shoving her homemade cheesecake, which was reputed to be delicious, into Mike’s face. She then plastered the mess into his dress shirt and tuxedo. She left the room, he followed, changed, and then got into a waiting limousine with Lawlor but without Joan. When Joan believed she caught Mike fleetingly leering at Ellen’s newly adolescent body, at that moment she knew it was time to leave him, she said. 

Mike Todd was in the midst of a grand movie experiment in widescreen projection called This Is Cinerama, which became the third-highest-grossing movie of all time and made Todd a multimillionaire. Dick Powell was enjoying success on an equally high level. He was one of the founders of the pioneering Four Star Television Production Company and was living in show-business splendor in Bel Air with June Allyson. Joan was currently unemployed, visiting New York after the Brooklyn tour and apartment-sitting for a friend in Manhattan. She found an apartment with a terrace for $395 a month on the nineteenth floor at the corner of Sutton Place South and East Fifty-seventh Street along the East River. It was in a large and weighty building, with a facade of red brick and pseudo-classical detailing of the quoins. She gave Ellen the master bedroom and bath, while Joan’s wardrobe, makeup, business file folders, and various other professional necessities were well organized in the second bedroom. Joan also found a captivating group of friends and companions. There was talk of marriage to millionaire sportsman and architect Hal Hayes, but nothing came of that. She was seen repeatedly in the company of lawyer Charles Mintz, and was delighted when he secured more child support from Dick Powell. She went out with the great New York Post sports columnist Jimmy Cannon, occasionally double dating with heiress Gloria Vanderbilt and Frank Sinatra. 

Vanderbilt recalls the conversation was always all about Sinatra, leaving her and Joan to do little but smile over their cocktails and cigarettes. Cannon’s open adoration of Joan was not returned. “Jimmy Cannon has a big crush, but I haven’t,” Joan wrote to Gloria. “Talks an ear off me and is a short fat bore—but a gent in good standing around town, so I go out to dinner with him a couple of times a week.” Joan was hurt when Ellen announced her wishes to live at the huge Mandeville Canyon ranch of her father and stepmother. Ellen could exercise her love for horses there, but it was excruciating for Joan to let her go. She was most afraid of Todd’s anger, but her second greatest fear was June Allyson’s potential to undermine her mothering. Ellen’s departure was also a demonstration of an unhealthy dependence Joan had acquired for her daughter. If they were apart, Joan would call daily, express her worry, and unwittingly instill guilt in Ellen for developing independence. On January 10, 1956, it was announced that the company formed by the Powells, Pamrick Productions, would adapt the Robert Wilder novel And Ride a Tiger into a film. Allyson would co-star and Powell would produce and direct with the film distributed by RKO. In the meantime, she returned to MGM to play the top-billed role in the Metrocolor musical comedy The Opposite Sex (1956) for producer Joe Pasternak. The film was praised by Variety; Bosley Crowther in The New York Times wrote that Allyson did an excellent job, but the film was not a box office success. 

Allyson has group scenes and a one-on-one scene with Joan Blondell who plays Edith. Allyson reported that the latter scene was very awkward since Blondell had called Powell to say his wife had tried to keep her out of the film. Allyson said this was not true; she didn’t even know that Blondell wanted to be in it. Allyson thought Blondell was great in the film. Blondell was also reportedly insecure because she had not been in a film since 1951’s The Blue Veil, having only worked on TV in the meantime. Members of the publicity department prowled the set for days but it turned out that all the women liked one another (except Joan Blondell's irrational dislike of Allyson), boosting each other in private and praising each other on the set. David Miller told Allyson that they were going to use the first take, no matter what happened. It seems Allyson's slap knocked Joan Collins out cold and she fell to the floor with a black eye while Allyson burst into tears and ran to her dressing room. Joan Collins was a long time coming to, but when she did, Allyson approached her diffidently and they cried together. 

Allyson reported that Ann Sheridan was lovely but since she was also friends with Joan Blondell, Allyson kept away from them when they were together. Blondell also asked that Allyson not be on set to read lines off-camera for her in their scene together. Allyson insisted that she do it, and later Blondell thanked her for it. Despite June Allyson's good intentions towards Joan Blondell, Joan would prove to be losing touch with reality and she would try to justify her loneliness convincing herself Dick and June also had serious problems or extramarital affairs; the latter Allyson denied in her autobiography, claiming Dick never gave her motive for suspecting of unfaithfulness. However, when a crisis gripped their marriage and Allyson thought of divorcing Powell, Allyson's lawyer Giesler got in touch with Powell’s lawyer and worked out a deal. Powell sent word through his lawyers that the divorce would not be contested. She was unaware of the property settlement until she saw a cartoon in the newspaper: A husband told his wife, “I don’t know why they’re worrying about the national debt. Dick Powell just settled four million dollars on June Allyson.” That was an exaggeration because, with the aid of transatlantic phones and cables, the lawyers worked out the agreement that she would get $2.5 million. 

When Powell flew back, Allyson met him at the airport with the children. She kissed him as if nothing had happened, the children clung to his hands, and he smiled benignly. Allyson and Powell went home and made love half the night, after which the man told her that was what she would be missing, since he insisted "there is a lot of lovemaking but real love like ours is rare." On January 18, the Powells were photographed at their Beverly Hills home with Powell saying, “If people will only leave us alone, maybe we’ll be able to work out our situation.” The Powells then reconciled and had their delayed second honeymoon with the family sailing his boat to Mexico. In the summer of 1962 Dick Powell was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph glands. When he resigned as president of Four Star and accepted the less demanding post of chairman of the board, it was common knowledge in Hollywood that the cancer was probably inoperable. Powell was ashen but cheerful when Ann and Norman visited with their infant daughter, Stephanie, born on 26 September. During his decline, Dick and Joan enjoyed a convivial if not close relationship. Old animosities were retired. Dick scribbled a note to Joan on Four Star stationery: “Dear Joan: Loved your card. You know somethin’?—I’m gonna fool ’em and make it! Best as ever, Dick.” Three days later, he wrote to her again: “Dear Joanie-Poo, the doctors tell me the tumor in my chest has shrunk about 85% and that in two more weeks I’ll be just as obnoxious as ever. Lots of love, Dick.” As a favor to Joan, he cast her in an affecting episode of The Dick Powell Show, even though her role would have been better served with a plain-faced actress.

“Joan was a standout during the long days and nights,” June Allyson wrote diplomatically. “Once she stood talking to Norman, she sobbed and said, ‘I should never have divorced Dick.’ The words cut like a knife.” Now Dick was dying, and June accommodated Joan’s visits for a time, but eventually barred her from their apartment. The actress didn’t want to give up one minute of precious time with her husband, and when Blondell saw the look on Allyson's face, she headed for her car without speaking again. Powell was fading away before Allyson’s eyes, his lucid moments interspersed with confused states and periods of morphine-induced coma. Powell would hallucinate, once reminding her to get Marion Davis’ clothes off the foot of the bed, and she went through the motions. He wanted a normal Christmas so June wrapped presents and made the children deliver them. He was pleased she had found things he could use, and not the usual wild ties. There were gadgets to make it easier for him to read by holding books and papers. January 2 would be his last day. As Powell seemed to be coming out of a coma, Allyson sat on the bed and cradled his head against her shoulder, he hanging onto her sweater. Suddenly she was aware that the room was full of people and she became angry. At the foot of the bed was Ellen, her face wet with tears. Powell opened his eyes and Allyson moved him a little so she could look at his stunning blue eyes for the last time. Powell took a deep breath and said he loved her and he was sorry. ―Sources: June Allyson: Her Life and Career (2023) by Peter Shelley, Joan Blondell: A Life between Takes (1993) by Matthew Kennedy and Confessions of a magazine writer (1981) by Jane Wilkie

Dick Powell (From Emcee to Philip Marlowe), Marion Davies (Captain of Her Soul)

In Pittsburgh, Dick Powell was a stage show emcee — a now defunct species that flourished during those halcyon days of the American movie palace, from around 1925 to 1932. In those frenetic years, the city's "super deluxe" theaters were invariably "vaudefilm" houses, patrons getting for their money not only a first-run film together with assorted celluloid featurettes but from four to seven "live" acts of vaudeville. In point of fact, what brought Dick Powell to Pittsburgh early in 1929 was the decision made by Warner Brothers' zone headquarters to revamp the weekly vaudeville bills at their Enright Theater in East Liberty. They had in mind incorporating them into stage shows over which Powell, as the resident master of ceremonies, would preside. And though Powell considered his very first show a disaster, he was "going strong" the second week. What was the secret of his success? As expressed a critic from the 1930s:"We all had fun with Powell" — and this because "he painted the clouds with sunshine." 

No mean feat in a Depression-haunted America. His efforts and energies had gone into singing in several local church choirs and into playing the saxophone, the cornet, and the clarinet. Indeed, Powell's decision to put school behind him seems to have been prompted by a desire to transform an avocation into a professional career. Toward this end, he joined the Peter Pan Orchestra in Little Rock in 1923, playing the cornet and singing with the fourpiece group, which played dance engagements locally and between the reels of silent movies at The Majestic Theater on Main Street. Then, in 1924, Powell graduated to a review unit that was appearing in small-time vaudeville houses in the St. Louis suburbs. Returning home to Little Rock, he went to work in the commercial department of the Southwestern Bell Telephone Company. Presumably, he was determined to be a prudent professional man in his father's image. What he had not counted on was the appearance in Little Rock of the Royal Peacock Orchestra, playing an engagement at the Rainbow Gardens Ballroom in December 1924. 

Powell, who had come to dance with a girl from the phone company (Mildred Maund, who would be his first wife), was given the opportunity to sing with them on more occasions. His days at the phone company are recalled by Vera Harvill, a retired employee. She describes him as a happy person who had dated another company employee, Blanche Hart. According to Mrs. Harvill, they went to the movies and out dancing frequently. By February 1927, Powell was back in Indianapolis. He did get the chance to sing at the Apollo Theater, but his financial situation and professional prospects seemed so bleak that he took to selling insurance with determination, if little enthusiasm. Charlie Davis, not unaware of Powell's plight, at length relented and took him back —but at a reduced salary. At first, Powell displayed some early awkwardness, but in his Pittsburgh years Dick Powell matured into a poised personality —one a national audience would soon be applauding on their movie screens. Powell had his big opening in the Stanley Theatre affiliated with Warner Brothers studios on November 4, 1929. The downtown audience, enchanted with Powell, literally took to their hearts his opening song, "You Were Meant For Me." 

Afterwards, he was Hollywood-bound, destined to appear in more than thirty musicals in the next thirteen years. Films like Cowboy from Brooklyn (1938), Going Places (1938), and Naughty But Nice (1939), were made toward the close of his association with Warner Brothers. However, it was Powell's good fortune at the very outset to be featured in what movie historians number among the finest musicals made at Warner Brothers — 42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933, and Footlight Parade all released in 1933. Of course, it was not only Powell's presence that made them "amazing pieces of entertainment" but rather the kaleidoscopic production numbers of Busby Berkeley, the epitome of the Warner musical of the 1930s. Fully aware that he was at a career crossroads in the late 1930s, Powell began importuning Warner Brothers to cast him in straight dramatic roles. 

Then, in the face of the studio's reluctance to do so, he purchased his contract release. Subsequently, he signed with Paramount, only to find the roles offered him were again singing juveniles. Determined to break out of the stereotype, Powell lobbied hard in 1944 to get the lead in James M.Cain's Double Indemnity. When Paramount turned him down, he quit the studio, signing with RKO only after they agreed to his playing the cynical detective in the 1945 screen version of Raymond Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely, which was released as Murder, My Sweet. Audiences took to the "tough" Powell, for he was wonderfully convincing as the glib, sardonic Philip Marlowe. So, too did Edward Dmytryk, the film's director. In his autobiography Dmytryk speaks of trying to work the actor into his character, saying Powell accepted direction "competently and effortlessly." 

Indeed, in Dmytryk's  judgment, Powell comes closer to the essence of Marlowe's character than Humphrey Bogart, Richard Montgomery, and Robert Mitchum — other distinguished portrayers of Chandler's fictional creation. By way of explanation, Dmytryk wrote, "I wanted Marlowe played as I believed Chandler visualized him — really an Eagle Scout, a do-gooder, with a patina of toughness only skin deep." The director goes on to identify this "good-guy" characterization with Dick Powell himself; and if his point is valid, it suggests interesting affinities between the tough detective and the stage show emcee. In the late 1940s, Powell would reinvent himself as a producer and executive, becoming the president of the prestigious Four Star Productions. 

Quite evidently his was a talent for all seasons. The point is surely worth making, but the Powell we are most apt to remember is not the ambitious businessman, but that friendly young fellow, that fine, decent, and wholesome man —full of life and fun— who is with us whenever his classic films of the 1930s and 1940s are revived. Powell made the audience believe that they too could succeed with hard work and diligence and a little good luck. But then it was his particular genius to make a generation experience anew from week to week the possibilities as well as the fun of being smart and optimist. They may not have succeeded but, remembering Powell, they believed they might have done just that. —"Remember a Local Singer Named Dick Powell?" (1976) by Howard Caldwell and "Dick Powell: The Indianapolis Years" by John L. Marsh (Indiana Magazine of History, December 1985)

Marion Davies’s Warner Bros. contract was reminiscent of most at this studio in the 1930s. The practice of extending time on seven-year agreements was found illegal in 1944, when Olivia de Havilland toppled the procedures at Warner Bros. in the landmark De Havilland Decision. In this ruling, the Supreme Court of California clarified that a seven-year contract meant seven calendar years, not seven years of time worked, under California law. But for Marion, and others at the studio in the 1930s, refusal to make a movie meant extra time was added. In early April 1935, Marion began work on her first Warner Bros. film, Page Miss Glory. She took to co-star Dick Powell right away, and he to her. Powell felt that Marion might be developing a crush on him, and with W.R. Hearst on the set constantly, he feared what this might mean for his career. 

As with all of Marion’s flirtations, it is difficult to know when the line crossed between a romantic friendship and a sexual interest. Marion was very tactile and demonstrative in her affection, hugging, kissing, and touching freely. Despite of it, it was clear for the crew who worked in her films with Powell that they didn't misinterpret their romantic relationship. Also, however harmless Marion’s potential crushes were, they frightened her co-stars, who were all too aware of the power that Hearst wielded over their careers. As at MGM, elaborate lunches for the cast were held at Marion’s bungalow. Much like the picnics at San Simeon, there was chicken and champagne, and W.R. kept a watchful eye on Marion throughout. At one of these lunches, given for some Hearst higher-ups from the East Coast, W.R. was busy talking to guests when Powell entered the bungalow. When Marion caught a glimpse of Powell coming through the door, she gleefully welcomed him by blowing exuberant kisses across the room, beckoning with both her arms for him to come over and sit in the seat she had saved next to her. Powell, afraid that W.R. Hearst would turn around and catch the whole scene, gestured to her in no uncertain terms that she should be very careful. In addition to the fear that Powell had of W.R. Hearst’s jealousy, he also knew that “the Chief” had the power to ruin his career in a single blow if Powell displeased him. 

“You always felt Mr. Hearst’s possessive attitude toward Miss Davies,” Powell recalled for the Hearst biographer W.A. Swanberg. “I remember feeling that he had a possession complex—that Miss Davies was his possession and had to be guarded.” Given W.R. Hearst’s all-encompassing need for control, Powell was allegedly approached once about what was going on between Marion and himself. W.R. just laughed at the insinuation that he was jealous of Powell, but still he warned him, "just watch your steps, Richard." To Dick Powell, Marion Davies was the “best-hearted woman in the world,” whose interactions with him on the set were "endearing." Marion, in turn, remembered Dick Powell with tenderness. “I really adore him,” she said. “He’s a darling, a gentleman. He’s one of the sweetest persons I’ve ever met.” Hearts Divided, co-starring once more with her beloved Dick Powell. 

Hearts Divided was set during the Napoleonic era, with Marion playing Elizabeth “Betsy” Patterson, the wife of Napoleon’s brother Jêrome. With many emotional scenes and plenty of comedy, the movie appeared to be headed toward success. Marion looked young and beautiful in her Napoleonic garb and hair that seemed more platinum with every passing movie. Marion and W.R. planned to leave for San Simeon as soon as filming was finished, but those plans were held up when Dick Powell came down with laryngitis and couldn’t complete his final number. After several days of inactivity on Hearts Divided, Powell finally consulted with doctors to see what they could do. One put a tincture of silver on his vocal cords, allowing him to sing the final number and get Marion and W.R. off to San Simeon. However, Powell said that he developed a vocal cord nodule due to the silver, and couldn’t sing for four months afterward. —Captain of Her Soul: The Life of Marion Davies (2022) by Lara Gabrielle

June Allyson, Dick Powell, Alan Ladd

In late 1944, Allyson and Powell tried to stay out of public sight and, one night, went for dinner and dancing to an out-of-the-way nightclub where L.B. Mayer’s spies were not apt to find them. Powell drove her home and they sat in the car while they kissed. Powell told her he loved her very much but he had no intention of ever getting married again. Allyson burst into tears and said she didn’t think they should see each other again. Allyson wouldn’t even let him walk her to her door. Do you have any better offers?, he called out. Two, she said defiantly. The phone rang at the usual time and she answered sobbing, which made Powell hang up. Later there was a pounding on her door and he said that if she wanted to get married, they would get married. Allyson felt it was an odd proposal until he added, “You know I love you.” She threw her arms around him, saying, “I love you too, Tommy,” not realizing her gaffe. Powell asked who the hell Tommy was and when Allyson explained, he roared with laughter and so did she. 

Allyson and Powell lived in a big house in Bel Air but Allyson wasn’t a good housekeeper. She didn’t know how to order food or plan meals or how to handle personnel. Once, instead of one cord of fireplace wood, she ordered seven; they sat around looking like a beached whale until Powell sent back six. When he had to go to New York to make a speech, Allyson packed for him but forgot the pants. Another time she forgot to get a pair of pants to the cleaners that he needed for the next day. Allyson found Powell a joy to live with, always either whistling or singing. He talked a lot and cried with happiness, and also cried over the deaths of people he did not know that were struck down in their prime. If Powell felt anger coming on, he would say “God is love” and just slow down, or work on his boat. Humphrey Bogart was determined to own the boat and his persistence paid off when one day he caught Powell in the right mood. Powell said his friend had worn him down and the Bogarts invited the Powells on the new maiden voyage. Bogart was all smiles but Lauren Bacall told Allyson in a low sour voice, “Thanks a lot,” because she hated the boat. Allyson learned how her husband did everything better than she—swimming, playing tennis, golf and skiing—though when they went to Sun Valley ski lodge, he broke a shoulder while Allyson was still unpacking in their suite. They had agreed to meet for lunch at the Round House but she got a phone call from Powell, who was in the hospital. 

Now that Allyson was married, there were no more money worries. Powell would say to have any store send their bill to the house and he would pay for it. Allyson had dreamed of having an Adrian suit but was afraid the elegant salon might ask her to leave, as Tiffany had the time when the girl first came to Hollywood and went there wearing pigtails and flat shoes. But now the salespeople made her feel at home, congratulating Allyson on the success of Two Girls and a Sailor. She ordered a suit made of white cashmere. At home she modeled the suit for Powell. Powell thought he knew the woman he had married but now learned of her desperate feeling of inadequacy. She was afraid of everything—cats, people who didn’t like her, being alone, the dark, and illness. She was always going to Powell to dispel some specter that had been raised. Allyson confessed she was afraid of Hedda Hopper because she had said mean things about her, as when Hopper blamed the actress for Powell giving the news of the marriage to Louella Parsons and not her. He advised her to just smile and be sweet in return and let the people who were mean shame themselves. 

Allyson needed constant reassurance of Powell’s love, wanting to be with him every moment. He wanted to be with her too, but he was aiming to get to be so successful that he could finally relax, saying it was as much for her as it was for him. Powell drove Allyson to their new home in Copa de Oro. It was an estate done in English Tudor with a two-acre yard behind a big iron gate. Powell rebuilt the house and had the walls covered in silks and tapestries. This time Allyson was determined to have a hand in the decoration and ordered furniture which he sent back because it was Early American. Allyson invited everyone she could think of and sometimes the guest number was 75. Powell manned the phone to pull the evening together (including a small band for dancing) and she would get all the credit. Half of the Hollywood colony was entertained at the Powells: the Bogarts, Louis B. Mayer and his daughters Edie Goetz and Irene Mayer Selznick, Merle Oberon, Lana Turner, Louella Parsons. Judy Garland was always the center of attention and, when she sang, Allyson sat on the floor worshipping her. For Allyson, it was fun to venture out into Hollywood society as Mrs. Dick Powell. One evening they attended a party at Mary Pickford’s Pickfair. When they arrived, they saw that everyone was dressed to the hilt while Allyson had just thrown on a Peter Pan dress and wore no makeup. She felt like the ugly duckling in a room full of swans. But it didn’t bother Pickford, who made a big fuss because she had heard so much about the little girl who had been compared to her. 

Powell took his wife to visit Marion Davies, who was an old flame. When they arrived at Marion’s mansion, it almost broke Allyson’s heart to see that Marion had been drinking. Allyson could still see the beauty in her face with enormous, very sad eyes. The Marion in the photos with Powell that he had shown her no longer existed. Janet Leigh wrote in her memoir There Really Was a Hollywood that she had first seen Allyson in June 1946 in the MGM makeup room when Leigh was waiting to be made-up for her first screen test. She described Allyson as sweet and adorable and one of her favorites. Leigh said that when making Little Women Allyson was the ringleader of the four actresses, though they blended beautifully to weave the web of sisterhood. Leigh turned 21 during filming and a surprise birthday party was thrown on the set with Jerry Lewis, Dean Martin and Gloria DeHaven as Allyson’s guests. Mary Astor reported that Allyson giggled a lot, which distracted the older actress and did not amuse her. She also said that Allyson chewed gum constantly and the young actress’ silliness wore her down. 

James Stewart and Dick Powell chuckled as they compared notes on their helpless wives and how they had to fix everything around the house or it would stay broken forever. Powell gave June a new wedding ring, similar to the old plain one but gem-encrusted, and Allyson wore both of them. Allyson wanted to continue playing serious roles and not be typecast in light romantic comedies or as the plain girl next door, the one men took home to meet their mother and always got her man. The actress complained that MGM fell back on typecasting and was not choosing her vehicles as well as she would have liked. Allyson’s mother Clara also came to live nearby after Powell gave her husband a job in transportation and maintenance. Allyson blamed Howard Hughes for the emerging strain in her marriage. 

Powell had made The Conqueror for RKO, which was run by Howard Hughes, and the two men met in the dead of night, rather than in the day during standard business hours. This was to accommodate Hughes’ eccentricities since he was going deaf and preferred the quiet of nighttime. After the film was made, Hughes continued to be important in Powell’s life and in Allyson’s by osmosis. But she continued to resent the amount of time her husband spent away from her in conference with Hughes and working on Hughes’ projects. According to Beverly Linet’s book Ladd—The Life, The Legend, The Legacy, Allyson found him to be very quiet and rather sad, his poor morale said to have been due to a less than tranquil home life. Ladd was the man described by Linet: withdrawn and somber. Allyson tried to make him laugh by clowning around on the set, because the man certainly looked like he needed cheering up. Ladd soon found the actress’ exuberance contagious. When she was passing him one day at rehearsal, Allyson stumbled over her own feet—maybe by accident, maybe for fun—and he grabbed her. Ladd said, “Hey, small fry. One accident-prone person in a movie is enough” and laughed for the first time since Allyson had met him. After the rehearsal resumed, he showed up at her dressing room asking if he could come in. She replied, “Only if you stumble in,” and they laughed together. When the couple got to talking, Allyson noticed how alike they were.

They never had any problems with their scenes and, when she would tell Ladd how good he was, the man couldn’t accept it. He could be a very funny man with a wry sense of humor and they always found something to laugh about. But even as his mood changed, Allyson sensed an underlying sadness in him. In the past, Ladd felt uncomfortable in love scenes and kissing—but he didn’t object to those with her. He was impatient to get to work in the morning, let down when shooting ended for the day, and invariably disappointed on the days the actress was not on call. Ladd found excuses to spend as much time as possible with her between setups. They talked about everything—their families, the way the film was going, acting—but nonetheless she felt he was a very private person and never discussed their past. Together they drove everyone else on the set out of their minds since they were both crazy about music and had it blasting, which helped keep anyone from overhearing them. The music would be turned off when Sue appeared. Ladd could not keep his eyes off his co-star and the infatuation did not escape the notice of cast and crew. 

Rumors of a hot romance began to spread and blind items appeared in several Hollywood columns. Ladd was so disturbed by his feelings for Allyson that he had difficulty sleeping but he never became ill or had more accidents. The man even began looking forward to Carol Lee’s wedding, to which Allyson and Dick Powell were invited. At the Powell home, nothing had changed or improved. Powell was still on the telephone, preoccupied with his work, and out late. Allyson bore a haunting resemblance to the first Mrs. Ladd, Midge, who was his first great love. This was a marriage Hollywood wanted kept secret so that the actor could maintain the Hollywood fantasy of romantic availability, much like Powell’s marriage where his wife was also kept secret. Allyson and Ladd were both good at picking up accents and would carry on hilarious conversations, each of them using a different dialect and pretending not to understand the other. They played the game of “What if?” a lot, speculating what would have happened if the pair had met when they were younger and created a whole life together in their reveries. Ladd asked her repeatedly how she could always be so cheerful and she replied that she was not. 

Sometimes she would sit and brood, or read her favorite cynic Oscar Wilde. Ladd told her that now that he had found her, he would never have to feel lonely again. He would know that somewhere there was one person who had seen the world as he saw it. She knew the same thing applied to her and that wherever Ladd was, she would always feel an invisible tie to him. They clung to every minute they could have together. He asked how it would feel to wake up next to her and she said she slept in flannel pajamas. He told her she had taken the place of sleeping pills: Since he had been working with her, he didn’t need anything to put him to sleep. He grabbed her and jokingly pretended he was going to give her the spanking of her life. They were like puppies, wrestling, growling at each other, then marching off the best of buddies, arms around each other. Even on the set they walked that way, knowing perfectly well that they were setting tongues wagging. They didn’t give a damn. When they were alone, Ladd sang to her, breaking into some Gilbert and Sullivan. She told him she liked to sing “Clair de Lune” with lyrics she had written for it and calling the song “I Remember.” The actress believed she was falling in love with Ladd. One time, Ladd kissed her and she didn’t fight back. It felt almost like they were married, with that special awareness two people develop when they felt that they belonged together. But Allyson told Ladd she belonged to Powell.

Allyson suggested they both tell their mates that it was just a warm loving friendship that would not turn into a clandestine love affair. By now there was more gossip, which made Sue Ladd call Powell to say that Alan Ladd was in love with his wife. Powell’s reply: “Isn’t everybody?” To demonstrate that there was nothing to the gossip items, the four went to Trader Vic’s for dinner. Powell talked about his favorite subject, The Conqueror, and Ladd and Allyson talked about their film. But Ladd couldn’t take his eyes off Allyson—and Sue noticed. Sue decided to confront the actress once Carol Lee and Richard were off on their honeymoon, but the Powells escaped to the safety of home. When Ladd heard about Sue’s call to Powell, he packed his clothes and moved out of the house. Louella Parsons had been at the wedding and saw the looks between Ladd and Allyson. Now she heard about the separation and telephoned Sue for the scoop, then filed the story for her January 28, 1955 column. Ladd phoned Allyson to tell her he had moved out and the actress told him she had told Powell they were in love. But Allyson didn’t want a divorce. Maybe if things were different—if there was no Pammy or Ricky—but there was. She was sad for Ladd and the actress hoped she hadn’t hurt him too much. Ladd didn’t feel hurt. Rather, Allyson had brought a little sunshine into his life at least. Allyson would always love him in a special way.

Alan Ladd played the role of the repentent husband admirably but Beverly Linet writes that his smile looked forced in the photographs, and that the light was gone from his eyes. Allyson tried to get over Ladd and to seem carefree, but a lot of laughter was now gone from her life. One day Ladd sent a gift, a record of “Autumn Leaves.” She played it over and over, and missed him. They had telephone conversations—sometimes hurried, sometimes long and loving. Ladd said he missed her and was back to having insomnia and accidents. Allyson heard rumors about him drinking but she refrained from scolding the man and they cheered each up by doing their funny accents. When Powell answered the phone, he and Ladd would have long conversations and Allyson wondered about what was said. Ladd would call late at night and she would start by sitting on the floor of her dressing room and then lie on her stomach when she got tired. 

Ladd said she was lucky to have a man like Powell who was wise and full of understanding. Allyson was offered the leading role in The Three Faces of Eve (1957) but Powell talked her out of it, believing she would be miscast. Joanne Woodward took the role of the woman suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder and won the Best Actress Academy Award. On the night of November 1, 1957, Alan Ladd called from his ranch to have a long conversation with Powell. Ladd urged Powell to drive out there to talk to him; Allyson did not ask if they included her. Powell did not go to confront Ladd, and the next day came the news that Ladd had been shot. He was found near death in a pool of his own blood, his gun beside him, a bullet hole next to the heart. A .38 caliber bullet had to be removed. Powell was beside himself with grief because he had not gone to see Ladd as Ladd had begged him to do. ―June Allyson: Her Life and Career (2023) by Peter Shelley

June Allyson: Her Life and Careeer (2023), a new biography by Peter Shelley

According to studio biographies, she was born Jan Allyson to Arthur and Clare Allyson in Lucerne, Westchester County, New York. Actually, there’s no such town. The truth is that Allyson was born Katrina Ann Eleanor Van Geisman aka Eleanor “Ella” Geisman on October 7, 1917, in a three-room tenement on 143rd Street in the Bronx. Her father enrolled her in a local tap-dance school but after three lessons, she was barred from attending for non-payment. She was then confined to a wheelchair, having to wear a heavy steel brace to support her spine and a girdle with straps under her arms to hold the back straight. The one good thing about her hospital stay was that Ella had her first crush: a doctor who made her want to live again. She learned to walk again with the aid of Marie Spinoza, a swimming instructor. Therapy was expensive and her mother married Arthur Peters, manager of the transportation department for the Loft Candy Company. They now lived in a new apartment at 1965 or 1975 Bryant Avenue. Ella paid in advance for a dance course, but when she arrived for her first lesson, a sign on the door read “Closed for Bankruptcy.” 

She enrolled in the Ned Wayburn Dancing Academy and entered every amateur dance competition in the neighborhood with the stage name of Elaine Peters. By this time, Allyson had acquired a boyfriend, Tommy Mitchell, a tall, lean singer who resembled James Stewart and had appeared in Sing Out the News. His old conservative family in the South frowned on him dating a chorus girl but Tommy loved her too much to ask her to give up her ambitions. Allyson bought him an inexpensive camera—her first gift to a man—because he was also a photographer. She also gave Tommy her virginity. She told her roommates that it was like sitting on a telephone, which ended the conversation. Because audiences liked Allyson in the role of Florrie, Richard Rodgers offered her the role in the national road company and she accepted. But she would not do the tour. Casting the new musical Best Foot Forward, George Abbott needed a funny little girl to ham up some scenes with the budding comedy star Nancy Walker and offered it to Allyson. The show centered on a self-centered actress (Rosemary Lane) who peps up her career by attending a college prom.

One night the cast heard that in the audience was Dick Powell, who had come to see Rosemary Lane. June Allyson saw him when she peeped through the curtain. When he appeared backstage after the show, Allyson was too shy to join the crowd around him and watched from the spiral staircase above. She noticed that Lane and Powell were both looking up at her with Lane later reporting that he had noticed the little blonde, the cutest thing anybody ever saw, with veins that stuck out like a garden hose and who boomed with a big, husky, funny voice. He had guffawed through her whole routine. Lane called to June to come down and she did; Lane said Powell had asked to meet her. June Allyson put out her hand and he held it as Powell grinned. Her mouth was open but nothing would come out. So she broke into a smile before the moment passed and someone else grabbed Powell to talk to him. 

Allyson wrote that his wife Joan Blondell was with him but the women were not introduced. Blondell wrote about the meeting in her book Center Door Fancy, claiming Allyson simpered and cooed that she slept with a fan letter from Powell under her pillow every night. But Allyson had no letter from him and had never written to him or any other star. Blondell also wrote that Allyson was a tramp dressed as a little kid and had worked as a call girl in New York with exhibitions being her specialty, all these claims rather dubious that seemed to come from unfounded rumors. Actually, there is not anybody who has supported this kind of vicious slander Ms Blondell threw over Allyson. Powell’s backstage visit raised Allyson’s status in the show’s company. Rosemary Lane had previously been kind but now drew closer, fascinated at how he had singled Allyson out and insisted on meeting her. She shared many confidences about the actor, who was her dear friend and a nice man, unlike the usual arrogant movie stars.

Allyson felt she was not good enough for Hollywood, but she would be proved she was wrong. Even the very wise and experienced experts in Hollywood would not be able to explain just what she had. 20th Century–Fox had her make a screen test, which Allyson thought was terrible and which made her weep in despair when she saw it. Fox sent it to other studios. MGM producer Arthur Freed saw it and he ordered her to be signed immediately. The film version of Best Foot Forward (1943) was praised by Bosley Crowther in The New York Times and by Pauline Kael in 5001 Nights at the Movies. The Variety reviewer described June Allyson as a “looker and good vocalist.” Powell moved in with his father at Toluca Lake and took Allyson to meet him, telling his father this was the girl he loved. Allyson discovered that Powell was a take-charge kind of man and as a result her whole lifestyle changed. Allyson's co-star Peter Lawford in Good News (1947) was said to have been crazy about Allyson, describing her as "a little China doll, sweet, nice and intelligent". According to James Spada's biography of Peter Lawford (1991), June Allyson was annoyed by Lawford's British witticisms and managed to elude his repeteaded advances, ending with ill feelings on both sides. Lawford’s later manager reported that the actor then hated Allyson (who allegedly had hurt his feelings) and used to say the most uncomplimentary things about her. 

June Allyson assured she was not having an affair with Alan Ladd, at least not in the way that people was saying. Allyson loved her husband but he was always going away and never came home from the office on time. One night, Powell rocked his wife against his shoulder. He trusted her and understood how she felt, but the man was also trying to build something worthy for the future. Someday they would have all the time together Allyson wanted and they would be relaxed enough to enjoy it. Powell described the ultimate dream house he wanted to design and build at Newport Beach and this time Allyson would be completely in charge of the décor. Allyson said that would be fine and her husband took her hand and led her to the bedroom where they made love passionately. The couple still felt the same passion for each other and Powell told her to remember that he would never let her go. But she had to be careful not to make more mistakes.

Howard Hughes had wanted Dick Powell to run RKO but he had declined the offer, which was just as well as this would have given her even less time with his wife. Then Powell said he was finally ready to build their ultimate dream house, the retirement house on land in Newport, though Powell was delegating more rather than retiring from his business. June said she missed his attention and tenderness and felt lonely. And the jilted actress threatened not to be there when he got back from a business trip to Europe. Her women friends thought the actress was crazy—Powell took care of everything and wasn’t seeing other women. When he came back, Allyson and Powell went home and made love half the night, after which Powell told her that was what she would be missing. However, Allyson felt disillusioned and filed for divorce. Although Powell had not come to court to shout “Stop this divorce!”, the actress found him at home, sitting in front of the fireplace having a sandwich and a glass of milk. He asked his future ex-wife if she was satisfied with the court settlement (2,5 million) and Allyson asked what he was doing there as they were just divorcing. Powell suggested if they kept co-habiting, the legal action would be null and void. Suddenly life was very sweet again and they made love. 

Powell joked to the press that the real truth was that the man missed her stew. His wife was generally a lousy cook but stew was the one thing she made well. The Powells then had their delayed second honeymoon with the family sailing his boat to Mexico. On January 3, 1962, Allyson’s interlocutory divorce decree was declared void since the Powells had reconciled. When the actress overheard Blondell tell her son Norman that she should have never divorced Powell, the words cut Allyson like a knife. In his last days, the Powells grew very close. She would sit beside his bed talking and laughing and keeping him company for hours. They never spoke about death but went over their lives together. They reminisced about Marilyn Monroe, Dwight D. and Mamie Eisenhower and the fun they had at Palm Springs and Firecliff. Powell talked about the retirement house, saying this time his wife would have the best dressing room yet, including the sunken tub she had always wanted. The actress wanted the house be done in her favored New England style and she wanted all her braided rugs back. At Powell's funeral (January, 4, 1963), Allyson commanded to play every song that Powell sang in his career—the songs he loved. There would be no eulogies or any fancy words said about him but rather the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments because that was his wish. Some of the people said it would be sacrilegious to play popular music in church and wouldn’t be allowed. But Andy Maree, the son of Morgan Maree, Powell’s friend and financial manager, said if this is what Allyson wanted, this is what she was getting. The memorial service was held on January 4 at Beverly Hills’ All Saint's Protestant Episcopal Church. Some of the attendants were Jimmy Stewart, Jack Benny, George Murphy, George Burns, Danny Thomas, “Buddy” Rogers, Edgar and Frances Bergen, Ronald Reagan, Jane Wyman, Jimmy Cagney, Richard and Pat Nixon, Walter Pidgeon, Ann Blyth, Johnny and Bonnie Green, Barbara Stanwyck and Joan Blondell. There were also those who waited outside the chapel listening to the service. 

They played Powell’s signature songs “I Only Have Eyes for You,” “42nd Street” and “Hollywood Hotel,” and ended with “Don’t Give Up the Ship.” Sometimes when he had to go to New York to make a speech, Allyson packed for him but forgot the pants. Another time she forgot to get a pair of pants to the cleaners that he needed for the next day. Allyson found Powell a joy to live with, always either whistling or singing. He talked a lot and cried with happiness, and also cried over the deaths of people he did not know that were struck down in their prime. If Powell felt anger coming on, he would say “God is love” and just slow down, or work on his boat. ―June Allyson: Her Life and Career (2023) by Peter Shelley