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

Romantic conflictive partners study, Dick Powell & June Allyson love story

20% of suicides between 2003 and 2020 were related to issues like breakups, conflict, and divorce. One in five suicides involved intimate partner problems, according to a new study from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the University of Georgia. Published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine, the study found that mental health problems; life stressors, such as unemployment and family problems; and recent legal issues were more common among suicides related to intimate partner problems. Ayana Stanley, lead author of the study, which grew out of her doctoral research at UGA’s College of Public Health, says: “Romantic partners experience other kinds of relationship stressors, such as general hostility, arguments and jealousy. By sharing resources for seeking help, we send a strong message that every life has value, there is hope, and that seeking help is a sign of strength.” Suicide is one of the leading causes of death in the United States, with more than 48,000 Americans dying by suicide in 2021, according to the CDC. While previous research has shown a connection between suicides and intimate partner problems, the present study is the first to use data from 48 states; Washington, D.C.; and Puerto Rico to examine factors that were associated with intimate partner problem-related suicides. Of the 402,391 suicides of Americans aged 18 years and older during the study period, 20% involved intimate partner problems. Almost half of those individuals were between the ages of 25 and 44. The majority were white and male with at least a high school education. Source: news.uga.edu

June Allyson has sometimes been called “Allyson Wonderland.” The term is only applicable if used in reverse. Hollywood has been but little of wonderland to Allyson. She has not found stardom and greatness synonymous. Perhaps there was a time when June found films a challenge. She proved to herself that Hollywood could be taken, and she took it. A couple of years ago fans voted her their number one choice among feminine stars; the following year, their second. Though appreciative of the honor, June was not obviously impressed. Another star recently said to her, “It’s amazing that you can be so popular with all the bad pictures you make.” June didn’t know whether it was a slam or a compliment. “I never got around to asking exactly what she meant,” said June. She has a childlike quality of acceptance. Her click in movies neither amazed nor exhilarated her. When she wished to learn to dance, she went to see Fred Astaire in “The Gay Divorcee” seventeen times, studied his technique, and landed herself in a series of Broadway musicals that eventually brought her to Hollywood. 

It seems that everyone wants her to be a movie star but June herself. Making motion pictures is to her a job, like selling ribbons over a counter, and she does it well. Two years ago Dick Powell said to me, “June’s the best actress I know. But she’s the most un-actressy actress you’ll find in Hollywood. I honestly think that on a lot of mornings she wouldn’t go to work if I didn’t urge her. It’s not that I care whether she works or not; but I do believe she’ll regret passing up the opportunity later on.” At that time June had an adopted child and was expecting another of her own. She seemed to look at us in amused wonderment as we talked about her career. ‘Tm not a career woman,” she explained. “I don’t like to fight, and in this business to get what you want you have to fight. I’d just as soon stay home and raise babies. I’ve been the happiest since the time I learned the stork was headed my way. For the first time in my life I feel important. I’d like to have more babies. But Richard thinks he’s a bit too old for such a big family.”

Here indeed was a Hollywood phenomenon: a top star who didn’t care about being a star. When I asked if she went to the studio while not working, she cast those innocent eyes upon me as if I’d wanted to know if she wished a trip to the moon and said, “What for? I’ve got everything I love at home.” June’s contract with M-G-M ends within a year. I called Dore Schary, head of production at the studio, and asked him what he would think if June retired at the expiration of her contract. He hardly waited for me to get the words out of my mouth before replying, “She won’t retire.” “What are the qualities that make her such a big box office star?” I asked. “She has a fresh personality, an honest kind of personality,” he replied. “She lends validity to a role. She reminds me of something in a picture we just produced about Hollywood, ‘The Bad and the Beautiful.’ In it Kirk Douglas says to Lana Turner, ‘I know you’re a star, because when you’re on the screen no matter what you’re doing or who else is in the scene the people in the audiences are looking at you.’ That’s true of Junie.”

“What are her strong points as an actress?” I asked. “Any good actress must have understanding of other people’s problems, and June has,” he said. “She also has that curious quality called talent—the ability to project herself and make others believe what she does. You know when you turn out the lights in a big room and start showing pictures, the good actress makes you think, ‘This is really happening.’ She can make one scared, happy, or sad. June has this ability to make others think make-believe is real. This is what we call talent.” “Do you think she’d actually be happy in retirement?” I asked. “Oh, no,” he quickly responded. “She’s much too young to retire. Any personality as vibrant as she would be unhappy doing nothing. It would get tiresome. You know we all say that in a couple of years we’re going to retire, but somehow it seems that we never do.” This is the opinion of the man who’s June’s current boss; and the person who will likely get her signature on a new contract, if she puts one anywhere.

To get another answer, I went to see the popular young miss in her Bel Air home. She and Dick had just finished dinner before an open fire. June, wearing quilted lounging pajamas and red felt slippers, looked hardly more than a child herself. She had on horn-rimmed glasses, but removed them when she started talking. A mannerism she has of hugging her knees in her arms added to her juvenile appearance. Our conversation started with politics; and June began telling a story about Dick. He interrupted her with, “You’d better let me do the talking, because I’ll get the facts straight.” June stuck out her tongue at him and went right on with the story. On finishing, she asked, “Now, wasn’t that the way it was?” “Yes,” he admitted. “But you never give prefaces.”

“Oh, I don’t have to go on and on to tell a story,” said June. Dick looked at her in a patient sort of way, continued his discussion of politics, and stated that he was not a rabid Republican. “Thank God, you’re not a rabid anything,” chimed in June, whose every look and gesture indicated she was head over heels in love with the man. As she sat there with her chin on her knees, one couldn’t possibly conceive of her being among the most popular film stars on earth, with the question of her quitting pictures causing many a producer and exhibitor to tremble in his boots. “In his new picture, Richard co-starred with Lana Turner,” said June. Then as if suddenly recalling the event, she looked around with a very wise, impish expression on her face, and exclaimed, “Lana Turner! I was on that set every day Richard worked.”

Unlike most Hollywood stars, she appears bored with talking about movies. That’s one reason I believe she actually would like to retire. “Okay,” I said. “Now comes the $64 question. Why do you want to retire from pictures?” June settled back into a lounge as if accepting the inevitable. “It’s really very simple,” she said. “I love my career, and I’ve been very fortunate in movies. But I don’t see why I should waste time doing something not worthwhile. The studio sends me a script. I read it and say, ‘I don’t want to make the picture.’ The studio insists that I should. So I do. Then I’m told by studio officials that the picture wasn’t very good. I knew that before I started working on it. Actually I want to retire from bad pictures. People don’t want to see run-of-the-mill films. Take somebody making fifty dollars a week.” “Who do you know who makes fifty dollars a week?” Dick interrupted. “My father,” said June. “He does better than that,” said Dick. “You’re thinking of my step-father,” June corrected. “If my father wants to take his wife and three children to a movie, he has to spend seven dollars. He doesn’t have that much money to spend. He can’t afford it. 

That’s the reason I don’t want to waste either the studio’s or my time by making mediocre pictures. I’m married and have two children. I’d rather spend the time with my family.” She said: “My children need me. When little Pammy falls down and cuts her leg, the nurse tries to help her. But Pammy won’t let her. She says, ‘Oh, no, mummy will come downstairs and fix it.’ So I go downstairs and fix it, and everything’s all right. When I go to work that little thing is always in the driveway to see me off.” Mimicking the little girl’s voice, she continued, “Pammy says, ‘Will you be home before I go to bed, Mummy?’ That’s not easy to take. I want to spend time with my children. “But, as I said, I’m not a fighter. When anybody pats me on the head and asks me to do something, I’ll do it. If I go into a store, and a clerk shows me something, I’ll buy it. I don’t want anybody to be unhappy. But most of all, I don’t wish to be unhappy when I’m working. It makes me nervous. So I bring the state of mind home with me. I get mad at Dick and the kids. I grumble a lot, and that’s not right. I can’t blame the studio. 

If M-G-M had a good script suitable for me, I’d get it. I’ve had about everything a film actress could expect except an Oscar; but don’t get me wrong. I have no burning desire to own one. However, if I were ever nominated for an Academy Award, I’d be down sweeping out the theater so it would be clean for the ceremonies. And I’m not saying to M-G-M, ‘Give me a good picture, or I quit!’ That would be childish. For my birthday two years ago, the studio gave me an $18,000 dressing room. The boys said, ‘You’ve been a good girl, so here’s a present.’ “Although I’ve turned down scripts, I’ve never been suspended. A classic example is ‘The Stratton Story.’ When I read the script, I saw there was very little in it for the girl, so I said I wouldn’t do it. M-G-M told me I wouldn’t be suspended for refusing to make the film but I was still wanted for it. Then I put up the argument that studio officials—not me—claimed I was one of their biggest stars and asked why they didn’t protect their property. ‘Well and good,’ they said, ‘but we want you for the picture,’ So naturally I gave in. Then I went to Sam Wood, who was to direct the film, and explained that doing the picture was no wish of mine and that I’d have to depend upon him. “My part in that film was strictly Sam Wood. He and Jimmy Stewart would come to my dressing room after working hours and cook up whole scenes for me. Jimmy would say, ‘June’s my wife. She’s the big star. Moviegoers won’t want to look at me; they want to look at her.’ So we rebuilt the whole picture around that idea. Now it's my favorite film.

“I’ve repeatedly told June that as long as I can walk and breathe, there’s no necessity for her making a picture she doesn’t like,” said Dick. “But she’s an actress; and not only a hausfrau. And to an actress there’s nothing more gratifying than doing a job well. June wouldn’t be happy in retirement, because she’s got acting in her blood. An actress simply hasn’t the quality in her make-up to be indifferent to seeing herself fade from the public scene. If June had a substitute, got busy doing something else, I would think retirement would be okay for her.” “Busy!” exclaimed June. “I’m busy doing things that I want to do. I want to stay home.” “Then we’d better get off that subject,” said Dick. “But I do get sick of hearing actors talk about how nerve-wracking their business is; and how they hate it. Sid Luft gave the best answer to that I’ve ever heard. We were dining with him, the Edgar Bergens, and Judy Garland in San Francisco, when the players began to complain about the hardships of show business. Sid said, ‘Well, you’re either equipped for it or you are not. If you're not equipped, you should get out.’ ”

“I don’t mean that I’m neurotic,” said June. “I just can’t relax when I work. I love the film industry, and 1 think it’s been very kind to me. But Richard and the children are the most important things in my life. I want to continue in pictures if I find the work interesting, enjoyable, and rewarding—but not for the simple sake of being a movie star. So far I’ve never learned to lake it easy while making a picture. I never go into my dressing room to read or write letters, for instance. I work from the time I enter a sound stage until I leave.” “If you should retire, what would you do?” I asked. “I’d have another baby right away,” she said. Then she looked at me with sudden astonishment at the question. “What would I do!” she exclaimed. “Did you ever run a house and take care of two kids? We have a nurse, a butler, a cook, a gardener, and two secretaries. But they all have to be directed. I take charge of the children myself. Having a nurse is wonderful; but children also need the help of a mother. I teach Pammy to read, write, and draw. Then we go to the beach and on hikes. Passing on to them what little knowledge I have and seeing them discover new things for themselves is really thrilling. That’s why I insist on quitting pictures before I get too old for them. If I find good stories, I wouldn’t mind doing one film.”

On January 24th, 1961, June Allyson sued Dick Powell for divorce. “Did he (Dick Powell) ever hit you?” asked the judge trying to get to the root of the trouble. “Never!” snapped June. “He could never do a thing like that. It was just that he was always too busy.” On January 31, 1961, she won an interlocutory decree which, in California, means that if hubby and wife cease and desist living under the same roof for one year, they are, at the termination of said period, kaput! The decision made June very happy. And that evening, by way of celebration, she and a date really did the town. After a whirlwind round of many of cinema city’s favorite eating and watering spots the wee hours of the ayem found them at Junie’s front door. Two minutes later they were inside. Neither was seen until the morning. And who was the guy that June celebrated her divorce with? None other than Dick Powell, the hubby she had jettisoned that very afternoon. But the minute they set foot in the same house the ex-hubby became the ever-present hubby once again. That was the first time Mr. and Mrs. Powell ever brought their differences to a divorce court. However, it is by no means the first time they have ever had marital difficulties, nor is it the first time they’ve ever aired them. The public first got wind of the fact that all was not well at the house that Allyson and Powell built about seven years ago. It was the night of the Photoplay Awards and the banquet room at the Beverly Hills Hotel was jammed to capacity with the greats, the near greats and the ingrates of Hollywood. Some had come to receive awards, others had come just to be seen and still others were there for no other reason but to gawk. Dick Powell was there too. 

And, as a Hollywood star of long and good standing, he was asked to say a few words. The one-time musical comedy favorite made the usual thank-you comments and then snapped the big room to attention with a remark no one had anticipated. “For those of you who were worried,” said he, “everything’s okay again at the Dick Powells.” Those words came out of the blue. Some of the people who were retrieving their jaws from the vinicity of their knees had no idea there was or ever had been anything wrong with the Allyson-Powell merger. Others, however, knew that Dick had a problem with his petite, goodie-goodie blonde mate. They suspected too, that Dick had been getting her out of flirting with other men for the better part of their married life. But this was the first time they had ever heard Dick even hint that the marital knot wasn’t as tight as it could have been.

But then, what could he have said? He was stuck with the image of June Allyson that the Hollywood press agents had created. She was typed as “the girl next door,” “cute as a button,” “too nice to be naughty,” “all sweetness and light.” Why, if he had even hinted that sweet little Junie was a bit spaced, her fans—and they number in the millions—would have howled their heads off at the charge and, in the end, made him the “heavy”. But what those fans—and a lot of the hipsters in Hollywood—didn’t know was that June had, long ago, pushed the sugar bowl aside and reached for the spice shelf. It even reached the stage where she was admitting it. Sitting at a cocktail table with a few other Hollywood beauties, she flipped a pretty finger at the little-girl frock her bosses like her to wear and declared: “I’ve had enough of all this. I’d like to land in the middle of a nice juicy scandal—just to prove I’ve graduated into a woman) but no one was believing her. But just so no one would think she was a doll given to idle chatter she set out to prove there was a lot more to June than a goodie-goodie personality and a Peter Pan collar. And the first guy she proved it with was the old swinger himself, Dean Martin. Rumor has it that he was even sober at the time. Junie first met Dean when he and his zany ex-sidekick, Jerry Lewis, were appearing at Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom’s in Hollywood. After the meeting, June became a regular ringsider at the club night after night. And she finally capped the caper by going right along with Dean when he moved from Hollywood to a nightery in Las Vegas. The citizens of that so-called sin-suburb are supposedly used to anything, but their raised eyebrows, as they watched June and Dean rocket around the town, proved that the Las Vegas natives weren’t as blase as they were cracked up to be. As one gossip columnist itemed it, “Dean Martin and June Allyson are having a ball in Vegas where they’re spinning faster than the roulette wheels.”

Mr. Powell did a lot of hollering about this secret liaison that the tabloids made public, and the betting around Hollywood was two to one that Junie would be given her walking papers. But it never happened. Dick may have been sore but he wasn’t sore enough to call the whole thing off. Just what he had to say to Junie when she returned from her Vegas adventure isn’t known, but it must have been quite a storm. During his Gotham safari, a good friend met Dick Powell outside Hollywood’s Brown Derby. “How’s June?” politely inquired the friend. “You mean Stupid?” Powell snapped. “I don’t know how Stupid is. Ask me another question.” This was all Dick said publicly about the affair. About another chapter in her life, June recently had this to say, “About five or six years ago there were many items in the columns linking me with Alan Ladd. What actually happened was that he was having problems, and I was sympathetic. Because of the nonsense in the columns Dick and I stopped seeing Ladd. Funny thing, he was also Dick’s friend, not only mine.” After the Ladd affair, Dick decided that a short leash on June was in order. And he figured the way to keep that leash tight was to spend more time with her. And how best to do that but to direct her pictures. So he got himself the job of director on A Night To Remember starring June Allyson and Jack Lemmon. “When they (June and Jack) were on the set, the phonograph in her dressing room would play for hours while the two of them were in there,” one of the co-workers recalls. “They must have been talking, because that dressing room was too small for dancing.” Dick held his temper as long as he could but finally, when Jack flubbed his lines, he blew up and told him what he thought of his acting. June leaped from her chair and flew at her husband, screaming, “Don’t you dare talk to him like that!” The movie making ended on a note that was becoming familiar to the Powells in general and June’s playmates in particular. Lemmon and his wife got a divorce. They didn’t say why, which left the matter open for the gossips to have a field day in the press.

Once again, however, the Powells weathered the storm. But though Junie has been a bit of a gad-about she is not the only one who contributed to the plights and plagues of the Powells. Dick, too, has done his share to keep the marriage on the rocks. And though his straying has not manifested itself in another woman his way of life has, nonetheless, been pretty hard on June. In the Powell household Dick is the dominant figure. He chose the house they live in. He decorated it. He hires the domestic help. He even plans the meals. An example of Dick’s disregard for June’s opinions came when he purchased their sixty-three-foot cruiser. The boat cost $103,000. “I must have looked at a hundred and fifty boats with Richard,” says June, “yet he wound up buying one I’d never even seen.” His work keeps him away from home more than is good for any marriage. When June calls to ask what time she can expect him, she’s usually told, “I’ll be there when I get through.” “Once,” she told a reporter, “I said to our houseman, Frank, “I haven’t heard from Mr. Powell this afternoon. I guess he’ll be home for dinner.’ Frank said, ‘Oh, we’re having fifty people for dinner tonight. Mr. Powell called and told me what to serve.’ ” Out of the fifty June knew exactly two. Dick is a man not given to emotional outburst. He is never too sad or too happy. He rides a middle course. This is the direct opposite of June’s extremely sad or extremely happy personality. But despite the weaknesses on both sides, the Powells plod on. They’ve had their differences, their separations and even a divorce, but they’re still together. Some say they’re together because of the children. Still others say it’s because they’re used to each other. It could be for any of the above reasons. It could also be because they dig each other. It’s possible, you know. —Harold Monroe, Inside Story magazine, 1952 and 1962. Source: vintagepaparazzi.com

Bring Them Down, Mammal, Calm with Horses

Christopher Eccleston has said it would be impossible for him to become an actor in today’s world, in an impassioned interview after the closure of Oldham’s Coliseum theatre. The British actor spoke about how the closure of the historic theatre would affect the acting community and people from working-class backgrounds. Eccleston reflected on his start in the industry and why he felt it would be “impossible” for people from a working-class background to enter acting today: “If you grow up in the north-west, you don’t feel culture and the arts belong to you. You don’t believe if you come from a council estate you can be an actor, a poet or a painter. I had no qualifications… Acting is not an academic pursuit. It’s a pursuit of the heart and the gut. You don’t need to have gone to Oxbridge... What you need is imagination and emotion and passion.” Eccleston said he would “keep banging on” about the promise of a new theatre in Oldham. Source: www.theguardian.com

I'm guessing I am one of many Americans who can't discern between rich and working-class British accents most of the time, but I understand it must be obvious to their fellow Brits. I've been watching Star Trek: TNG a lot lately and since Patrick Stewart has the air of a mannered Shakespearean actor—something like a real-life Frasier Crane type, except less off putting—I assumed he may have grown up wealthy. But it turns out he grew up quite poor, it turns out. Next, my mind went to Ian McKellen. I'd have guessed he was less 'posh' than Stewart but that he must have grown up well to do, since I know he went to St. Catharine's College of the University of Cambridge. I can't find much explicitly about his economic class during his upbringing, but it seems like he didn't grow up rich either. 

I guessed incorrectly about the class backgrounds of many. I suppose, because the American super-rich class historically has been limited to a few families like the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts, the Carnegies, the Kennedys, more recently the Hiltons and similar corporate-brand families. People who are very impoverished likewise used to be a very small share of the US population overall, and the vast majority fell within a broad-ranging middle class. But that is changing and I suppose we are bound for a more UK-like system in which socioeconomic class really defines a person's limitations and economic mobility. British actors who are really posh: Cara Delevigne descends from the Barons of Redesdale (aka the Mitfords), Helena Bonham Carter's family background has connections with the Bank of London, Benedict Cumberbatch is related to aristocracy. Damian Lewis (Homeland), Tom Hiddleston, Dominic West, and Eddie Redmayne went to Eton, the famous elite prep school. Barry Keoghan is salt of the earth Irish 'from the wrong side of the tracks' working class.

On the other hand, Julie Walters (Billy Elliot), Anthony Hopkins and Helen Mirren have working-class roots; Ian McKellen and Judi Dench came from middle class. Florence Pugh grew up upper-middle class with a successful restauranteur father but her family claims working-class roots. James Norton's (Star Trek: Picard) parents were teachers and then he went to Cambridge. Carey Mulligan is solid middle class. Kate Beckinsale went to a private independent girls' school. Does that mean she's posh? In the US, it would mean upper middle class. Ralph Fiennes: by his accent, I would have guessed working class, but he grew up connected to generations of family who have been knighted. I was struck when Fiona Hill—who has a lovely manner of speaking to my ear—testified that her working-class regional accent would have prohibited her from any important advancement in the UK and it's why she moved here to the US. But although I do hear what defines northern accents, which sound to me like they're nearly Scottish at times, I guess I can't always discern them because Ian McKellen is from Lancashire in NW England and Patrick Stewart is from Yorkshire in NE England and both sound refined and upper class to me. Michael Caine is totally non-posh, in fact he’s Cockney. The Eton actors, such as Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Redmayne, actually are upper middle class and are only posh-adjacent. Source: medium.com

Mubi shared a first-look image of Barry Keoghan and Christopher Abbott in the upcoming drama Bring Them Down, the debut feature from writer-director Chris Andrews. The film is in the final stages of principal photography in Ireland. Keoghan and Abbott have replaced Tom Burke and Paul Mescal who were previously attached to the film. The plot follows Michael (Abbott), the last son of a shepherding family, who lives with his ailing father, Ray (Meaney). Burdened by a terrible secret, Michael has isolated himself from the world. When a conflict with rival farmer Gary (Ready) and his son Jack (Keoghan) escalates, Michael is drawn into a devastating chain of events, forcing him to confront the horrors of his past, leaving both families permanently altered. Keoghan changed the game in The Killing of a Sacred Deer (his range as an actor is on full display) and Abbot has been around for years, most notably in Possessor, and Black Bear. The film is a European co-production produced by UK-based Wild Swim, Ruth Treacy and Julianne Forde from Ireland’s Tailored Films, Jacob Swan Hyam (UK), and Jean-Yves Roubin and Cassandre Warnauts from Frakas Productions (Belgium). Mubi financed Bring Them Down with Screen Ireland and the UK Global Screen Fund. Source: deadline.com

Barry Keoghan started his career as a critically acclaimed young Irish actor working on indie movies in his home country. These movies picked up notice thanks to festival appearances and he soon branched out into the United States, where he was able to slowly start to show his worth by working alongside some acclaimed directors before eventually picking up roles in both the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) and DC Universe (DCU). Since coming into Hollywood, he has worked alongside directors like Christopher Nolan, David Lowery, and Martin McDonagh. He also gained a lot of mainstream attention when he picked up a role in the MCU movie Eternals. While the movie was one of the MCU's lower-rated releases and didn't set the box office on fire, he could possibly return down the line as the Eternal Druig. He also had a minor role in the DCU movie The Batman, where he took on the role of Joker, the most infamous villain in that film's world. However, the best Barry Keoghan movies don't always deal with superheroes.

The landscape of grief encompasses both universal and very personal territory, realms that Dublin-set drama Mammal (2016) explores with curiosity and compassion, although not always with narrative precision. Margaret (Rachel Griffiths) lives a solitary life and seems to like it that way. She works in a second-hand store in a nondescript corner of the city, but barely has a word to say to her shop assistant and rarely socializes. Her routine is unexpectedly disrupted by the reappearance of her ex-husband Matt (Michael McElhatton), who’s come to tell her that their 18-year-old son Patrick has gone missing. Margaret takes the news without much apparent emotion, since hasn’t seen Patrick since leaving the boy with Matt years before. 

At about the same time, she befriends Joe (Barry Keoghan), a homeless young man about the same age as her missing son, whom she assists after finding him injured and unconscious in the alley behind her shop one night. A bit like the feral cats that Margaret adopts from the streets, he’s wary and standoffish at first, but decides to move in with his few possessions after checking out her small two-bedroom home. Margaret begins molding the young man into a stand-in for her deceased child. Is she merely trying to be a mother again? Or are her intentions more driven by passion? As they spend more time together, sharing jokes, beers and smokes, their relationship begins to take on new dimensions that neither has anticipated. 

Margaret attempts to manifest a parental relationship with Joe as a substitute for the son she never knew and attain some measure of redemption in the process. For his part, Joe keeps trying to reconcile his painful decision to leave home with his inability to survive on the streets, even as his frequent late-night forays with the loose-knit gang that he used to run with threaten to destabilize his situation at Margaret’s. Keoghan here gives an intense performance as a tortured young man on the verge of utterly destroying his life before it’s even quite begun, never really settling on a predictable path to stability.

A tense crime film, Calm with Horses (2019), also known as The Shadow of Violence, is about a former boxer turned organized crime enforcer named Arm who is asked by the head of the family to kill someone. Joseph Murtagh creates a believable atmosphere of toxic masculinity and its hold on those that indulge in it. The box that they lock themselves in, intentionally or not. Barry Keoghan plays the role of Dymphna, a member of the crime family and friend of Arm. The character is complex but violent, and Keoghan's often subtle portrayal of the figure grounds him in reality. He is intimidating and brash, but has deeper layers to him, which the actor communicates ambiguously in this bleak thriller. Source: www.hollywoodreporter.com