In case you are visually impaired, that is a frame-by-frame animation of Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald’s dressing room kiss in the 1938 movie Sweethearts.
And, you know, Mr. Eddy is casually teasing the bottom lip of his very strictly business platonic friend and co-worker, the very happily married Mrs. Gene Raymond (you know, the same chick he made out with just as friends when it was her birthday)….WITH HIS TONGUE. And she’s just smiiiiiilin’…………………..
I mean come on, you can see her blinking hard to avoid Gable’s “hangover breath” in San Francisco and looking generally yucked out by Barrymore in Maytime. And here, you can see a sly little smile. Yes you can.
But here, let me clarify:
Please note that the space between their mouths is black. The background is black. Also their mouths are open but we won’t mention that.
Awwwwwwwwwwshit. Nelson slippin’ her the tongue. Bad Nels.
The year is 1938. They are at MGM, working on a movie fully in compliance with the Hays Code. Remember how Jeanette is so blissfully Mrs. Gene Raymond and now Nelson is like…..gay or sexless or wooden (well, maybe after they shot this scene. Heh.)……….I mean, it’s a tiny thing, but here it is. A tiny thing, but DEFINITELY A THING.
Hi, friends. Last blog post was super heavy, and I’m afraid, in the coming weeks, that I’m going to have to cover some more heavy topics, as we are just now starting to reap the benefits of some of our requested research materials. I saw some things this evening that were both incredible and sad, and Angela and I will be working together to share them with you all soon. The fact is, when you set out to study someone’s private life—it no longer is relevant whether or not things are “your business” — certainly, biography is a form of writing that has existed for many hundreds of years. You find out a great many things that aren’t your business. Yet I don’t see the field at large vanishing anytime soon. When a person has been dead for half a century, you can’t just call them and interview them. You have to fact-find, and dig, and research, talk to people who knew them, befriend archivists at the Library of Congress, etc etc—and try to piece together their story. What you cannot do is pretend parts of their life didn’t happen, or ignore things because they aren’t to your taste or they make you personally unhappy. This isn’t, in fact, about you. So while I’m bummed just like you guys about a future that looks a little grey with some sad posts, I won’t apologize for it. I feel strongly that these things need to be heard and read and said and observed and understood, if we are ever to gain a true sense of these tremendously complex beings we’ve decided to love. I do, however, have some ideas in mind for ways to lighten the mood, so stick with me. In the meantime, here are some of my favorite pictures of the Beauty and the Baritone. ❤
Costume Designer Adrian is there and nobody gives a damn.
Nearly ten years into this thing and he still makes her self-conscious.
Y so touchy, Nels? Y so happy, Jeanette?
I just love this picture. Always have. They look so easy and relaxed and happy together.
With Woody, the man who was probably their single greatest friend. Look at the way she’s openly gazing at Nelson. Yeah.
Last weekend at the Library of Congress, Angela and I were able to listen to Nelson’s most elusive Chase and Sanborn radio broadcast from January 22, 1939—three days after his misguided and heavily intoxicated elopement with Ann Franklin.
Before I go into those details, Angela has written up a little piece about her experience at the LOC, so I’m enclosing it here. Thanks, Angela! 😀
June 13, 2014, Washington DC – Library of Congress – My social media status reflects my current location as I add a photo of my research tools: a pen, a Library of Congress reader card, a pink work request slip and a black and white composition book.
“What are you researching and for what reason?”
Somehow that comment from a friend of long gone High School days annoyed me. I had to think a bit on how to answer. Just how did I end up here and why had I cancelled a planned spa day to wake up at the crack of stupid and take a jostling commuter bus from Herndon, VA into Washington, DC?
“Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy.” I answered.
“Should have known – since they are your faves.”
My faves? Really? Does that even begin to describe it? And do you really care? Most of my friends and family certainly don’t. Their eyes glaze over whenever I mention the dreaded names. Except Chris, she understands. She recently told me of the time she took a 12 hour bus ride from her college in Boston to meet up with a fellow Judy Garland fan somewhere in Minnesota. Speaking as her mom, I’m glad I didn’t know it then, speaking as a fellow fan girl, all I can say now is, I raised her right.
So here I am, awaiting my fellow MacEddy obsessive and comrade in arms, Katie, a young girl with an old soul. We’ve been plotting this for weeks but are not nearly prepared enough and we know it. We are frantically texting as she approaches the city by train and each can sense the others nervousness over how it will go. I know my job and set about culling information and targeting available research opportunities as I await her arrival.
Phyllis, the research volunteer de jour, gives me the lay of the land and recommends the reading room providing detailed directions. The Madison building is a large rectangle and color coded she explains, I nod. “What are you researching?” Phyllis asks. I tell her and guess what? She actually knows who they are and even a bit about them. This is promising. I love retiree volunteers.
“Go to Reading Room 113,” she tells me. “Performing Arts, that’s where you’ll find the radio programs.”
So I scamper off. There I meet and befriend Jan M, maybe a few years older than me, hard to tell. Jan is the archetypal librarian, frumpy skirt, support hose, no nonsense shoes; her steel grey hair is pulled back into a low pony tail. Only the kohl rimmed eyes bespeak of the girl she once was. I glance at her younger self staring at me from the name badge she wore clipped to her neat sweater. Yes, I knew that girl, I could picture her walking my High School halls. She wore jeans and Birkenstocks, her long hair parted in the middle, no makeup except for black lined eyes. She spoke very precisely, was serious, focused and knew what she wanted to do with her life, unlike the rest of us.
Jan helps me find what I’m looking for and it’s just dumb luck that the January 22, 1939 Chase and Sanborn program is already digitized and available for listening. Oh, I had to spell Sanborn for her; Jan must not be a coffee drinker but she is very anxious to help. I set up an appointment for later that morning and text my co-conspirator to alert her of our rendezvous location. I love research librarians.
Katie arrived overheated from her three block hike (Blogger’s Note: “Sweaty and disgusting” is more like it! The cab let me out too early and I had a huge purse and super heavy backpack and I found out which building I was supposed to be in and ran the 3 blocks in 95 degree heat. Yuck.) but anxious to get to work. We queued up our recording in Booth 15 and began. All I can say is I was gob smacked (thank you my British friends for that lovely word) as I listened with St. Anthony and the Blessed Mother jangling away on my wrist as I furiously wrote in my composition book, Katie scribbling out a bit of mumbled dialogue I’d missed. I love bright young researchers.
Two days later, I am back in Connecticut, at my real job. “Did you have a nice vacation?” My colleague asks me. I whip out my Library of Congress official reader card and show her. A fellow bibliophile and longtime book club member, she looks at it longingly and sighs.
“Yes, I had a wonderful time.”
So that takes us up to where we were in Booth 15, getting ready to listen to newlywed Nelson on Chase and Sanborn. Sharon had told us that it was going to really mess us up, and boy, she wasn’t kidding. Right from the beginning, you sense that something is “up” with Nelson—anyone familiar with his radio work (and he did a TON of it) knows that his style is easy and affable, interspersed with the great singing that made him famous. Only, on this day, he doesn’t want to come to the microphone. You hear the other people trying to improvise to make up for the fact that he didn’t jump in when he should have, and then, finally, he mutters, completely audibly, “I must have the wrong script.” What, in real life? You sure do, brother. To me, that sounds like a sideways way of saying he doesn’t want to participate in any of this wedding talk. The playing of the wedding march, in this context, sounds brash and horrible. The idea that they’re all having a good laugh and talking about throwing rice (and maybe they did, the studio audience is laughing)—while he is totally silent—is just a great big helping of awkward sauce. And then the normally yakkity-yak Nelson doesn’t say ONE WORD. Just goes into his first song. Weird, weird, weird.
Is this a good time to point out that absolutely nobody likes Ann Eddy? Because…absolutely nobody likes Ann Eddy.
Then he sings the lament from the opera Boris Gudounov, usually sung by a basso; a favorite role of Nelson’s idol, Feodor Chaliapin, so on a normal day in normal context, it is understandable that he’d be interested in singing it. Sort of the same reason why I can only ever make Baked Beans using Jeanette’s recipe. Boris was done in English at the Met in 1963, sung by Jerome Hines. This particular selection can be heard at this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UGIy-wdAqI for anyone wishing to compare the legit Metropolitan translation with what Nelson sings.
I have, to the best of my ability, transcribed Nelson’s lyrics. One wonders where they came from. Did he do this translation himself? It is entirely possible; he spoke Russian. He frequently did this sort of work with his songs. To say this is a dark-as-hell piece is putting it mildly. Let us remember that Nelson, while a great singer, was no actor and never claimed to be (check him out in his movies without Jeanette sometime. Oy. I love the guy to the ends of the earth, but….oy.). What he was, was a seriously professional musician. Dramatic interpretation of a piece is one thing—singing off key is something else. Nelson would never have done it on purpose, and the fact that he does–repeatedly in this selection—really speaks to his highly heightened emotional state.
And why is he so emotional? Well, for starters, he’d basically been blackmailed into this marriage with Ann. Trustingly naive Nelson had unburdened to this older woman, whom he thought was merely a friend of his mother’s, during the many nights she was a guest in their home when Nelson was having trouble in his relationship with Jeanette. He talked way, way, way too much. Ann got him into a compromising position and essentially forced his hand with everything she knew about Jeanette and their relationship—the depths of exactly what she knew that was so very, very damning may never be fully realized. The bottom line is, she had him just where she wanted him: emotionally broken, beaten down and blackmailed over a barrel. According to Isabel Eddy, his mom, after he passed out from whatever substance he was on for the very brief, very clinical ceremony, he asked what they were doing on a train. Well, shit. Ann Eddy won that round and she would have him painted into a corner for the rest of his life.
Here is my best transcription of Nelson’s lyrics of the sad tzar’s lament. Please note how vastly different they are from the English translation used at the Met. The meaning is essentially the same, but some of the word choice is very, very interesting (and yes, this is very dramatic, very flowery language. This is opera, people.):
I stand supreme in power
Five years and more my reign has not been troubled
Yet happiness eludes my sad and tortured soul
In vain I hear astrologists foretell long years of life in power
Peace and glory
No life, no power, no promises of glory
No praise from the crowd
Can soothe my aching heart
I look among my children to find comfort
And soon to see a brilliant marriage feast prepared
For my Kseniya, my dearest daughter
But cruel death has struck the one she loved
How heavy is the hand of God in His wrath
How merciless a doom awaits the sinner
In gloom I walk, grim darkness surrounds me
No single ray of light bring solace
My heart is torn with anguish, it’s hopeless and weary
Naught avails me
A secret terror haunts me
I wait, I tremble
With all my heart I implore saints above
And a God I beseech to grant me mercy
And I with all my power; all of Russia I feared and envied
In tears have vainly begged for pardon
[Cannot make out this line]
Pestilence, disloyalty, starvation!
Like a beast of prey the hungry peasants are prowling
The land is bare, Russia weeps
[Nelson’s voice is breaking on this next line and I can’t understand it, maybe something about a flood?]
And groaning under the weight of the burden
And awful and great pain inflicted
I’ll throw the flame on me
They who loved me, they hate my very name
Openly curse me
And now my sleep has fled, at night I see visions
A blood be-spattered child appears to me
Sobbing in anguish, writhing, lamenting
Praying for mercy and mercy was not granted
Blood from his wounds is falling, loudly he cries
With death he struggles…oh God in Heaven….oh my God.
Let’s not forget that July 26th of the previous year, Jeanette had lost their son at about six months of gestation (newspapers reported her hospitalization, and the subsequent one in September, but cited ear problems as the reason). She was, by her own admission, a “bleeder”—very thin blood. She had difficulty with bleeding after several surgical procedures, including her somewhat botched tonsillectomy. On that occasion, Nelson had “never seen so much blood in his life” …sad, yeah, but it had to have been on his mind. The man is crying at the end of this selection.
Some wise-ass decided, the day after Nelson’s elopement, to run onto the set at MGM where Jeanette was winding up filming on Broadway Serenade, and loudly announce that Nelson had eloped in the night. Jeanette screamed, ran off the set, locked herself in her dressing room and downed a bottle of sleeping pills. Woody Van Dyke, beloved pal and frequent director of our Sweethearts, got wind of what had happened and, finding Jeanette’s dressing room door locked, kicked it in and found her on the floor. L.B. Mayer himself arrived on the scene and carried Jeanette to the car, cursing Nelson the entire time, saying he [Nelson] had killed his beautiful star. Jeanette’s stomach was pumped and she recovered, only to attempt suicide again a week later. The source for this information? Woody Van Dyke’s wife, Ruth. This story was verified by Eddy associate Marie Collick, two people who worked in wardrobe, Ken Hollywood (studio guard) and Isabel Eddy, whose letters of that time indicate that she was spending time with Jeanette, whom she adored, basically keeping suicide watch.
News of this had to have gotten back to Nelson. Having an easier time understanding his mental state now? Damn, the poor man.
For his final selection, Nelson changed gears completely and will effing tear your heart out and step on it with his rendition of Little Grey Home in the West. Angela and I played this for Di on Skype Sunday afternoon and all three of us were in tears. It’s just so sad, and so unfair. Here, have a sad graphic:
He wasn’t talking about Ann, kids. He just….wasn’t. There’s no way. And of all the songs he could have picked to end this hour of despair, this choice is one of the most poignant he could have made. There are dozens of songs he could have sung and we would have been all “OH EM GEE He’s singing to Jeanette!” but seriously….this sweet little song they had sung together in happier times just aches with romantic simplicity and longs for domestic bliss….two things that nobody has EVER accused him of having with Ann.
Here it is, guys—all of Nelson’s parts of the radio broadcast from January 22, 1939. Please listen for yourselves. Angela put the video together.
People are so quick to over-simplify their situation. The truth of the matter is that Ann held all the cards that Mayer didn’t. After their tenure at Metro was over, Jeanette COULD HAVE divorced Gene. Nobody has ever said Gene wouldn’t let her out. Sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t—what was the point of her getting a divorce when Nelson couldn’t? Nelson could not/would not stand for Jeanette getting tarred and feathered in the public with the dirt Ann had on her. For someone as willful as Nelson to be that gun-shy about Ann…well, she must have had a hell of a hand of cards to play. We only know some of that data. For Jeanette’s part, at least, at minimum, being married to Gene gave her the “protection” of being Mrs. SOMEBODY—I can’t think of her wanting to deal with being gorgeous, unmarried and in love with a married man. I can’t think that she was in any mood to deal with the eligible bachelors of Hollywood. On some level, it worked. Some of the time, anyway, at this point in their lives.
Believe what you will about Jeanette’s love life, but the woman’s political affiliations are no secret: homegirl was a great big fat wealthy crusty old white square patriotic-as-hell do-your-duty American Way Republican. (And she didn’t start out wealthy. She was born into a lower-working class family. She estimated that her dad’s highest salary check was never more than $25.00. She made the most of her God-given talents and worked her ass off and climbed the ladder and was wise with her money. That, kids, is the American Dream.)
……..one of the 39845723445 reasons I love her, in fact. Go ON with your bad self, Jeanette.
Here is a great picture of Jeanette with President Eisenhower in 1960, at a Meet & Greet she was hosting. Thanks very much to fellow blogger Kayla, who is both my chum and sworn enemy, for the loan of the picture–I’d never seen this shot before and it’s great! (Check out Kayla’s blog here: http://cinemadilettante.wordpress.com/ for more Old Hollywood goodness and, if you subscribe to the Gene Raymond side of all things Jeanette, that’s the place for you!)
How fricking cute, right???
And here she is yellin’ it up on the campaign trail:
So, with that, I will tell Nelson to go hang out in the commissary for a hot minute; his redhead and his blogger will be back with him in the next post.
I think it’s cool as shit that Jeanette was asked to come and perform in Washington, D.C. for BOTH Eisenhower inaugurations. (See? She used to be Beyonce, for those of you needing some modern-day context.) In 1953, Jeanette gave the Pre-Inauguration Concert (Ethel Merman did it in 1957). That occasion also provides the opportunity to share one of my favorite Jeanette anecdotes. She sang the National Anthem in a chiffon dress of red, white and blue…..under which our delightful little fruitbat made the occasion uber festive with coordinating bra and panties. She had a quick change after the National Anthem into white satin strapless for the rest of her performance. Generally, speaking as someone with some experience in theatrical quick-changes….you wear underwear that suits ALL your costumes if you possibly can. Not this girl. Stars and stripes forever, baby. Mary, the housekeeper, was pinch-hitting for MIA secretary Emily, and someone dropped the ball on the packing: there was no white underwear to go with the white dress. Seeing that it showed through, Jeanette handed off her underoos to Mary, saying, “I guess I’ll have to go without panties…but heaven help me and Ike if I fall down the stairs!” and thus, dear readers, she performed in our Nation’s Capitol. Bahahahaa.
So, at the 1957 inauguration, Jeanette showed up in a variety of places/roles. Friday before, she attended a Pre-Inauguration Tea and Fashion Show (wut.) and sang the National Anthem. During the actual inauguration, she was seated ON THE PLATFORM RIGHT BEHIND IKE. She recalled in a letter to her fans (Feb, 1957) that the weather was extremely overcast and misty but just as they were playing Hail to the Chief, the sun broke through the clouds and shined right on Ike, as if God in His heaven were saying, “That’s my boy!” So we need to find news footage of Ike on the platform in ’57, because the J-Mac Attack is right behind him. Super cool. Then on Tuesday, she was one of the guests at an exclusive luncheon for women who had done great work for the Republican party. At that luncheon, she sang Hello, Young Lovers, the Indian Love Call and Giannina Mia.
At the Ball that night, she sang the National Anthem again and noooowww I have a surpriiiiseeee foooorrr youuuu guuuyyssss… (the good stuff is at about 2:45)
One of our discoveries from the Library of Congress last weekend, straight out of mothballs, 57 years later. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t she?? ❤ ❤
I’d apologize for the excessive birthday spam that you’ve seen from me in multiple mediums if we’re friends, but I’m not sorry. My favorite human turns 111 today, okay? Get off my case.
Just spent two days in the Library of Congress with fellow MacEddy sleuth Angela, trying to cram what could easily have been weeks into a number of hours. Already planning a return trip for more, because we turned up some amazing stuff. I have inquiries out for a number of archived television interviews/appearances/news coverage that we have to pay to view, but I think we’ve about decided to just bite the bullet and do it.
She’s worth it, you know? They’re worth it.
I’m excitedly awaiting a few things, not the least of which is a 500ft reel of footage of Nelson being interviewed the day after Jeanette died. The file notes say that the grieving Eddy reminisces about her and discusses how they met at a party. Guess who else has always reported that they met at a party? She was coming down the stairs and he was standing there and she saw him and “gasped in awe at the size of you and that head of hair.” It will be heartbreaking to watch Nelson this raw, but fascinating and insightful. We have other interviews of him after her death, but even Sharon hasn’t seen this one. Hot damn. Get back to me soon, archive lady!
Also worth reporting: We found the radio broadcast Nelson did right after his marriage (1/22/39 Chase and Sanborn) and it is…appalling. He won’t come to the mic when they are touting him as the happy bridegroom and you hear him in the back muttering that this is “the wrong script.” He then doesn’t say anything when he does get up to the mic, and they introduce his first song. His song choices are odd, too. He sings a marching song from White Eagle (not one he was famous for), then towards the middle of the hour-long broadcast he comes back to sing The Czar’s Lament in English—the words are really powerful and speak of his desolation and destroyed life, begging God for mercy, dead children, etc etc. He is noticeably sharp and flat SEVERAL times throughout, his voice catches and by the end he is decidedly very, very emotional. Call it a “performance” if you wish, but Nelson Eddy, while not serious about acting, was deadly serious about his music. It is inconceivable that he would sing badly and off-key on purpose. After that, he returns to the mic one more time and offers the saddest rendition of Little Grey Home in the West that has ever been heard. That brought us to tears more than once over the weekend. This man was married 3 days before this broadcast. He should have, in theory, been honeymooning and in a great mood. Instead, you are left with the very distinct impression that the “lips I am burning to kiss” and “two eyes that shine just because they are mine and a thousand things other men miss” have nothing whatever to do with Ann Franklin [Eddy]. But please, don’t take my word for it. I’ll be providing recordings for you to listen to for yourself in short order. They are quite something.
And I found Jeanette singing the national anthem at Eisenhower’s 1957 Inauguration! That was really cool! I’ll give y’all a recording of that, too, as soon as I can get organized.
I have inquiries out on a few more pieces of TV footage, including a segment on Jeanette’s Vegas nightclub work. THAT should be a riot. Can’t wait. And I got to view her two 1951 appearances on Toast of the Town with Gene. The August one was an utter delight, the December one was fun too but not nearly as long or involved. Gene MC’d the first one because Ed Sullivan was away and I thoroughly enjoyed him and Jeanette–separately and together. They did a great job.
I also exported nearly 600 articles from the newspaper room at the LoC–and I only was able to get through the first thousand. There are over eleven thousand articles in one system alone—so I definitely need to go back just for that. We have a call slip out for several files of unpublished photos which we should be hearing back about soon. So you see, dear readers, I have not been idle, even though I have not been blogging. I just am in a phase of information gathering right now, so that my blog posts are as informed and up-to-date as possible. I think that I can best serve Jeanette and Nelson and what I’m trying to do here by providing the best information that I can.
In the meantime, here are some fun pictures of babygirl for her birthday. Happy day, Jeanette. You are loved.
Ahahahahaa. Maybe my favorite thing in the history of ever.
❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤
Back when the world was still possible. Lake Tahoe, during the making ofRose Marie.
The Case for Jeanette and Nelson 