Nelson Eddy had an amazing baritone voice; from one of his very first opera reviews: “A young singer, scarcely 20 years of age…Mr. Eddy was a star from the moment he appeared on the stage.”
Movie stardom also came “overnight” once he was showcased in a lead role in 1935. Nelson himself scoffed at his acting ability, as did many critics. But none could scoff at his voice, charisma, or the genuine sincerity of this man who in “real life” had a tremendous capacity for love and compassion. This serious young man who dropped out of school at 14 to help support his divorced mother, was highly educated and throughout his life was always reading, learning and searching for philosophical truths. He had a longing and need to understand life and comprehend why it dealt him such difficult hands. That personal tragedies nearly brought him down several times is undeniable, that he was able to pull himself back up by his boot straps and carry on, and re-invent himself and find loyal and loving friends in his life is again, nothing short of miraculous.
The lines spoken by a friend during his eulogy are so very true: “Nelson was a straightforward, simple man yet one of the most delicate, sensitive and complex natures I have known. And he had integrity and a shining honesty in his work and in the way he lived, the like of which I have never seen.”
In recent months we have come to learn about and see the viscous comments, letters and documented actions of some people in Nelson’s sphere, particularly in the Jeanette MacDonald camp. In the years Jeanette was failing, those people did everything they could to negate Nelson, try to write him out of her life and make him feel unwanted. (Here’s an actual example that clearly makes the point…just mind boggling!) It is painful for me (and many of us) to learn these things this last year, how very stressful was it for Nelson to experience living in that hostile atmosphere and to have his help turned away by those who preferred to see Jeanette go down. One can easily understand why at times he had to simply walk away and create life and work and art and close friendships elsewhere.
By nature, he was a man capable of youthful, lighthearted fun and joy, to see the positive side of life and live for the present and future. And yet, the sorrows of the past could drag him down into almost unspeakable pain. Whatever his emotions, they were easily read on his face and in his manner, that naked, boyish honesty that shone through when he was singing or acting onscreen.
In 1948 Jeanette wrote of Nelson to his mother in a letter:
These have been days of pain for me – yes, but the close companionship, the lovely inarticulate hours when his sweet silence alone is a long of love – sweet than all else. No girl was ever so tenderly loved. I thought I knew every phase of his life – but never has he been like this. Now I know the gentle healing power of that love…
Did you ever read Longfellow’s poem “Footsteps of the Angels”? He recited every verse to me and it was indeed the footsteps of the angels to my soul.
And here, fittingly, are the words of the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem written in 1839. Can you imagine Nelson Eddy reading this poem aloud and explaining and discussing its meaning as a comfort to the woman who had just lost his child?
Footsteps of Angels
When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;
He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!
And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.
And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.
Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit’s voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.
Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!
Nelson Eddy was a rare and unique man and we honor his memory today. Thanks to Maria Escano for the photo…and thanks to all who have helped us learn and understand more in this last year.
I would sincerely encourage those of you interesting in learning more to attend either our Sturbridge, MA event or the Los Angeles one – or both. Our “Master Classes” continue because amazingly, the research and revelations continue as well.
Nelson Eddy is pictured above with Sheba, the dog given to him by Jeanette MacDonald, many months before they actually began making a film together in 1934.
I want to give a shout out to Kitty Job for sending the following email:
Hi Sharon, I came across this little ditty sung by Nelson on The Bell Telephone Hour. I was kind of shocked by it, but I guess this is the side of Nelson we don’t like to see – his cynical, depressed side.
Here are the lyrics, as they are a little tricky to catch:
I Loved A Lass – William Franz
Poem by George Wither
I loved a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e’er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,
I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
Her cheeks were like the cherry,
Her skin was white as snow;
When she was blithe and merry
She angel-like did show;
Her waist exceeding small,
The fives did fit her shoe:
But now, alas! she’s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
To maidens’ vows and swearing
Henceforth no credit give;
You may give them the hearing,
But never them believe;
They are as false as fair,
Unconstant, frail, untrue:
For mine, alas! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
As those of you who have read Sweethearts know, Nelson and Jeanette were prone to singing in public certain songs that had private meanings in their lives at the moment.
For Nelson to choose this song during a bitter point in his life, with the reference to “Sheba” which was Jeanette’s first gift to him so many years earlier – is telling.
What was happening in September 1952 when this radio show was broadcast? Well, Nelson was suffering still after the personal breakup with Jeanette. It was now about two years later and professionally, both stars were floundering. But interestingly enough, they were moving step-by-step toward a reconciliation that would occur on national TV during Nelson’s surprise appearance on Jeanette’s episode of This is Your Life in November. And in between his singing “I Loved a Lass” on the radio and This is Your Life, Nelson filmed a TV pilot called Nelson Eddy’s Backyard in which he plays a TV version of himself, he gazes at his own painting on the wall of Lake Tahoe (a meaningful location for them), and looks into the camera and sings “Wish You Were Here.” This was all leading up to the night before This is Your Life when Nelson quietly slipped into the audience of Jeanette’s local concert and slipped out again without even letting her know, although sharp-eyed fans noticed him.
Thank you, Kitty, for showing another bit of evidence to demonstrate how yes, Nelson’s life played out in public if anyone cared to observe.
Above we see two screenshots from the 1938 MGM film, Dramatic School, in which Jeanette’s sister Blossom (billed as Marie Blake) had a good-sized role alongside the film’s star Luise Rainer.
Just a couple of weeks ago, my own sister Arlene was visiting me in New York in February 2016. While I was on the phone basically being interviewed about certain Mac/Eddy facts, incidents and dates regarding Blossom in particular, Arlene overheard some of the conversation (the call was on speakerphone) and piped up that because of my father she also had worked at the Motion Picture Country Home (MPCH) in the accounting department, and that I had introduced her to Blossom.
Well, folks, we squealed and laughed…I didn’t remember that!…and I was amazed because while Blossom knew my other sister Julie, my mom and my first husband Tom, I did not recall introducing Blossom to Arlene at the Home. Funny, isn’t it? I expect every one I interview to know exactly what they were doing on such-and-such a date 40+ years ago with complete accuracy, and yet here I am having forgotten such an interesting tidbit of information. Oh well, such is life!
So Arlene told us the following: also as a teenager she worked after school there in the main building, in accounting. Remember that my father was the accountant for some executive in charge of hiring there. This man’s name escapes me at this point (and mom doesn’t remember either, nor does Arlene) but this is the fellow who called me into his office to say that Gene Raymond didn’t want me around anymore after I told Gene that Blossom had asked me to write a book about Jeanette. The man told me that I did excellent work and that that the residents there praised me – but that it was politics in regards to Gene Raymond (then on the Board of the MPCH) and his hands were tied.
Arlene worked part-time for our dad for school credit and pocket money… originally in dad’s office but for a time at the MPCH. We’ve since discussed this more and don’t know whether our dad was doing basic accounting for the Home itself as well as his other client. (Our dad was not in the film industry but his clients included many industry folks and this was how I was able to get interviews with some of his actor clients and others quoted in my book. Dad also helped package some film deals.)
Arlene recalls that I stopped by to see her one day in the main building, dressed in my Candy Striper uniform, and took her over to the Lodge to meet Blossom. Blossom was “a nice old lady” sitting in a chair in her room, was very pleasant and the two of us filled Arlene in on the book and research project, and I showed Arlene some of the photos Blossom was providing me to use.
Arlene was now interviewed on the phone and was asked about Blossom’s speech. Arlene said she had no trouble understanding her. Arlene observed that Blossom and I had a close friendship and were working together on a project that was meaningful to us.
In recalling again the events at the Motion Picture Home and the subject of Blossom’s speech, I mentioned one of the times that her speech was perfect and normal for a few days, and the circumstance that triggered it. I did publish this back in a 1991 article and here is an excerpt:
I’d like to clarify here that there were times when her speech suddenly returned, perfect. There was no predictability on this, it just happened. Once it occurred after we were looking at the Bible and I started to read the 23rd psalm. She recited it with me, and by the end of it, her speech was perfect and remained so for a couple of days before it slipped back. I have no medical explanation for this but it did happen. That evening Blossom, I and some “cute guys” (Blossom’s term) who worked in the Home sat with her in the dining room until the wee hours, drinking wine [they drank, I didn’t], and listening to her talk about Clark Gable, Hollywood’s golden days, etc. This happened infrequently at other times as well.
Blossom, similar to her sister Jeanette, was a religious and spiritual person but not necessarily in the traditional sense. Like Jeanette, she felt that mind over matter could at times produce great results. I was asked and will answer here as well; yes, at later times we read more out of the Bible, reciting together in hopes that Blossom’s speech would revert back to normal as it had once before – even if temporarily. But it only happened this one time after reading the Bible. Other times her speech came back unexpectedly or after I worked with her on speech therapy.
I have to say that the only time I ever saw Blossom cry was when her speech slipped back after this particular incident.
Each year, Blossom attended the annual Jeanette fan club Clan Clave finale. Her last one was 1977, just 6 months before her death. That was my last one as well, since our own club began in the fall of that year. But in Sweethearts I wrote about surreptitiously screening one of my sources, Sunny Griffin, by taking him over to see Blossom at this event when he first showed up in June 1976. I wanted to see her reaction to him. That she embraced him and they talked excitedly and that Sunny lit two cigarettes like in Now Voyager and put one in Blossom’s mouth, told me what I needed to know. Sunny attended both 1976 and 1977, but in the 1976 one Gene Raymond was not there. According to the Jeanette fan club publication, his new wife Nelson (that was her actual first name, folks!) had badly injured her hand. That was Gene’s reason for not attending. No, I don’t know any circumstances about that, how it was injured, did he hurt her, was it a self-injury… no data, folks. I just know that back then we were told by Clara Rhoades, that club president, that the marriage wasn’t happy. Why did Gene marry her? She was wealthy, pretty, maybe her ironic first name? Who knows. I was told that she was a religious woman and made it her mission to help Gene handle his drinking problem but obviously that was a failure as he got visibly drunk at these Clan Clave meals, to the dismay of some of the rather prim Jeanette fans there. And if his wife “Nels” had any concerns about other aspects of Gene’s life, it’s evident that it was status quo. In the page reproduced below from the 1977 Jeanette fan club journal, we learn that Gene’s friend Buddy Rogers was still very much in the picture after all these decades.
Here is that magazine cover:
And the write-up inside of the first event, which I have marked for interest:
Re: Sunny Griffin who talked about his adventures with Jeanette, Blossom and Gene in New York. I heard Jeanette’s secretary Emily West introduce him to Clara as “an old friend” of Jeanette’s and that’s why I wanted to check him out with Blossom.
Then, Samuel Griffin, attending his first Clan Clave, took his turn. He was so enthusiastic that he held the audience in the palm of his hand.
And as for Blossom:
Blossom received her standing ovation which she acknowledged with a broad smile. She is looking very well and seems to grow younger each year.
The following June of 1977, Gene was in attendance, as was Sunny and Blossom. Gene welcomed Sunny as a good friend of theirs and laughed with the group as Sunny stood at the podium and related more anecdotes. It was written up here:
With comments from the page below:
Jeanette’s sister, Blossom Rock, acknowledged her standing ovation with a broad grin. She’s looking as chipper as ever and just sparkled at being present.
Patricia Dale Beaumont and Samuel Griffin each took a turn speaking about “their” Jeanette….Samuel, his usual jovial self, entertained with a little story about Jeanette and a parrot.
Never mind that Blossom began first talking to me in 1970, even up till six months before her death she was on public display at a public event and interacting with Jeanette’s fans.
And no, I don’t remember the parrot story. We later videotaped many hours of Sunny Griffin but that incident doesn’t seem to be on the later tapes we did in 1982.
I’ve said it before and will again: we are lucky to have had such an ally in Blossom, who was a kind and social person. Her determination to have her sister’s story told is why we’re all here today.
Below, three wonderful photos of Blossom that are new to me but that certainly show what a spunky lady Blossom was. The first one is from the Masquire’s St. Patrick’s Day dinner honoring Donald O’Connor, also with Emily West – March 1964.
The one below is from Blossom’s birthday, August 21, 1965. Not sure but this might have been taken at her house.
This last one is from a community breakfast at the Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel, 1966, also with Emily West, who worked for the Gene even after Jeanette’s death till her own health finally failed.
Thanks to Angela Messino for sending us these great photos of Blossom!
I want to reach out here to anyone who has a story to tell about Jeanette MacDonald or Nelson Eddy and has not yet contacted us. Please do. Whatever your age, if you know something, it’s time to share. If you’re getting on in years, don’t delay. Or if you have a parent or grandparent who knew something or had an anecdote to tell, please share. Photos, letters, information, personal experiences, whatever…
If you think there isn’t more to learn, you’ll see otherwise when you read the story below. It’s new information that I learned this very week. And one of several interviews done over the last weeks and months. Don’t think that new folks aren’t always coming forward…because they are. I spend literally hours and hours talking with people, learning new facts. Some of you can vouch this because I answer your texts or emails, or phone call very late at night my time. Thankfully the world is a very small place now that we can easily chat with anyone, anywhere. Whatever continent you’re on, it doesn’t matter.
For some, it takes a certain degree of COURAGE to come forward and speak publicly. I understand that, I’ve been through it. I’ve helped others with it. If you have sensitive data, I understand that it’s a matter of wanting to ensure that Jeanette and/or Nelson are presented as the good people that they were. Their kindness toward others and their good deeds outshine any human frailties. But many people still ask why this or that happened. We are still filling in the pieces, the nuances, understanding beyond basic facts that they were at this event or that on such and such a date. There are layers to knowledge. As always, your anonymity is ensured if that is your preference.
Only when we understand the adversities that they faced over the decades can we understand the level of caring and the love that endured, perhaps differently than we would have wished if we were writing the scenario, until Jeanette’s death.
The following story is a summation of an interview with a woman who lives in Houston, Texas. She allowed me to tape her and told me to share it as I chose. During one of Jeanette’s hospital visits in Houston, this woman was on the same hospital floor. Not for a heart condition, but her son worked with Dr. DeBakey and so she was a patient with her room near to Jeanette’s.
The woman had occasion to see Jeanette a few times, she reported that Jeanette was very thin and looked to be in pain, and that she was so pale that her freckles were clearly visible.
One day the woman was alerted to the fact that she should stay out of the hallway, as Nelson Eddy was there literally running up and down outside their doors, and if she ventured out he might run right into her! Of course she had to check it out and indeed, there was Nelson, periodically bursting out of Jeanette’s room to go find a nurse or someone because Jeanette needed something, they were waiting too long for a nurse or whatever. The woman described Nelson as silver-haired (note: he didn’t use a color rinse when he wasn’t working), it was flopping over his forehead, and during that day he was very agitated and emotional, his face red, even in tears.
I asked how long Nelson was there; she said a few days and that he stayed in a private room there in the hospital, used for family members. Was Gene or Blossom there, I asked? Yes, she remembered Blossom but Gene was not there at the time Nelson was in residence.
When I asked what was happening and why Nelson was upset, she answered that DeBakey was doing what he could for Jeanette but it really did not help, whatever treatment was not going to make a difference or prolong her life much. The needed research and procedures came a bit too late for her.
And by the way, the woman commented, only two of Jeanette’s visits to the Houston Methodist Hospital and/or to consult with DeBakey made the newspapers. But there were a few others and she knew for a fact that Nelson was there with her on other occasions, though it was kept quiet. But this was the one instance that she came face-to-face with Nelson.
When I asked her if people didn’t think that was strange, after all, Nelson Eddy wasn’t married to Jeanette MacDonald in “real life” so wasn’t it a scandal? What was he doing there? Didn’t people talk or wonder? She answered that no one cared, they accepted and understood there was a relationship there. You didn’t talk about those things. No one made a fuss.
By the way, I have verified from another source the fact that Nelson was in Houston with Jeanette more than once for her health issues, just as the woman above claimed.
This just an example of tidbits of info that come our way. The Houston-based gal was actually speaking with my husband when he handed me the phone and said, “I think you need to talk to this lady.”
While she prefaced her encounter with Nelson with a “It’s no big deal…” I let her know that in the Mac/Eddy universe, this surely WAS a big deal and I thanked her for sharing her story.
The great comedienne was honored tonight with the Screen Actors Guild 2016 Lifetime Achievement award. As she accepts, she mentions her childhood of watching movies and about 2 minutes in she mentions Nelson and Jeanette.
Cora Sue Collins is one of the last surviving child stars of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She had a small role as Felice in Naughty Marietta (Cora Sue: “I love puppies!” Jeanette: “Oh, you do?” And gets her the puppy. Cora Sue: “Thank you, Princess!”) Ironically, Cora Sue also played the young Moonyean in the 1932 Norma Shearer version of Smilin’ Through. In 2015 she gave a very informative interview for the website cinephiled.com about her MGM days, the entire interview is fascinating to read (at the link) but perhaps of most interest to us is an incident involving a confrontation between Norma Shearer and Louie B. Mayer which is quoted below:
Q: Did you have much to do with studio head Louis B. Mayer?
A: Well, I used to go to his house every Sunday to have brunch with his three granddaughters and go horseback riding with them. They were perfectly nice, but it was a command performance so it felt like a job. I did it because I was told to. Oh, and there’s one story about Mr. Mayer that I don’t know if I dare tell you.
Q: Well now you have to!
A: Okay. I was about six or seven and my mother and I were sitting in Mr. Mayer’s huge outer office in the Thalberg Building with his secretary, Ida Koverman. We were waiting to go into to talk to Mr. Mayer about something. Suddenly this woman I knew quite well opened the door and starting backing out of Mr. Mayer’s office screaming, “Don’t tell me that, L.B., I f**ked all those bastards on my way up!” And with that she slammed the door, and spun around. When she saw me she literally gasped and said, “Oh, hello, Cora Sue, how are you?” She was so embarrassed. We had worked together in the film Smilin’ Through with Leslie Howard where I played her as a child. And, of course, she had been married to Irving Thalberg.
Q: Oh my God, Norma Shearer?
A: Yes! So after she ran off, I asked my mother, “What does ‘f**k’ mean?” My mother got all flustered and wouldn’t say anything. So I went over to Mrs. Koverman and asked her and she got just as flustered. I looked at both of them and said, “It’s okay. She said it to Mr. Mayer so I’ll just ask him what that word means!” As much as they begged me not to, they couldn’t shut me up and I did ask him!
Q: Egads! What did he say?
A: He got very addled and said, “Cora Sue, some day someone will explain that word to you!”
We missed this one when it was published last year but it’s very complimentary to Jeanette and Nelson:
….While many moviegoers instantly fell in love with Greta Garbo’s husky, Swedish accent in her 1930 “talkie” debut Anna Christie, MGM and Garbo’s favored leading man, John Gilbert, didn’t fare as well. A combination of his flat, affected delivery, high tenor voice and subpar recording equipment of the time made this once celebrated sex symbol of the 1920s box office poison.
Two actors of the day who faced slightly different, yet equally challenging adjustments, were Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald. The two were crossover acts — singers, who transitioned from the live venues of opera houses, to actors, starring in motion pictures; Eddy, an accomplished, classically trained baritone, and MacDonald, a stunning beauty and talented soprano with a three-octave range. Between 1935 and 1942, the two singers would star in eight successful movies together, each incorporating their vocal talent with a commanding screen presence as well as an exceptionally natural comedic ability.
It’s difficult to pin down a single production by either artist to spotlight as their “best”. Nelson Eddy had nearly 30 successful opera performances under his belt before his appearance in film, in addition to various TV/radio appearances and albums throughout his career. Jeanette MacDonald was quite accomplished in her own right, having a successful run on Broadway before her film career and, like Eddy, a noteable catalog of recordings. Furthermore, is there such a thing as a “bad” Jeanette MacDonald movie? In my opinion, there simply is not.
With many fans of Eddy and MacDonald, the movie Maytime remains an all time favorite. Taking into consideration the outstanding musical performances in this film, as well as the undeniable chemistry these two shared, it’s one of my favorites as well. ….The intimate connection these two shared was unmistakable. Scenes such as these would be fodder for Hollywood gossip, for decades to come. …This performance is one of Eddy and MacDonald’s best collaborations, and of great significance to anyone who’s familiar with Nelson and Jeanette’s real-life, 30-year, on/off again, alleged affair. In “Czaritza”, the two pour their hearts out to one another, lamenting a union which cannot be. As the number climaxes and comes to a close, a tear falls from Nelson’s eye as he embraces Jeanette. To whom did this tear belong, Nelson or the Czar? Was the Czarina grieving…or was Jeanette? This aspect of Eddy and MacDonald’s relationship is an entirely different story, an offshoot to two extraordinary careers of very interesting personalities. Movie buffs who’re interested, may find the book Sweethearts by Sharon Rich an intriguing read. Other notable performances in Maytime for suggested viewing would be Nelson Eddy’s comical rendition of Ham and Eggs, Jeanette’s interpretation of the Leo Delibes classic Les Filles de Cadix and the duo’s soulful Carry Me Back to Old Virginny. Whether you’re a fan of musicals, operettas, or movie classics in general, Maytime is a must-see. Young and old fans alike, may you always “remember the day”.
As we know, Betty White is an avid fan of Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. Here’s an excerpt from a 2012 New Zealand interview in which she discusses her film The Lorax:
Q: Do you ever wish you were someone else in Hollywood? You have always been successful, you’ve been working your whole career, but has there been any point where you wished you had the career of someone else?
BW: Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. I would not be in this business if it weren’t for them. I know people laugh and they like to make fun of it, but I saw Naughty Marietta 48 times, and I didn’t just like Jeanette MacDonald, I was Jeanette MacDonald. I just thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I did Summer stock [summer theatre festival] one year, many years later, and Jeanette Mac Donald and I we were doing the same play. She closed [the show] on Saturday night, and I was opening the next day, so I was introduced to her and my chin just dropped. I was old enough to know better than to do that, but she said, “Betty, I have so many beautiful flowers in my dressing room, would you take them and would you take care of them? I don’t want them to die.” So the whole week I was there, I was thinking, “These are Jeanette MacDonald’s flowers!” Those flowers never got such good care their entire life! She was so lovely. Meeting Nelson Eddy was just the end of the world, for me. One day I was over at NBC, and Nelson Eddy was standing down at the other end of the hall, as if he was waiting for someone. I saw him and I turned around and ran. That was as close as I got to him. He had no idea what a deep impact he had on my whole life.
Note: The play referred to above is Jeanette’s 1959 starring in the play Bitter Sweet at the Packard Music Playhouse Hall in Warren, Ohio, for the Kenley Players. Betty White had the subsequent show starring in The King and I.
“I used to think that Love was the most powerful emotion. But I found out it wasn’t. Pride is the greater emotion.” – Nelson Eddy
Today, January 18, marks the anniversary of Jeanette MacDonald’s funeral in 1965. Pictured above is a grieving Nelson Eddy. He looks shell-shocked and he told the press that this was the worst day of his life and “I didn’t know she was so sick.”
Hard to believe that he didn’t fully realize what was going down; after all, he and Jeanette generally spoke daily on the phone and he admitted to the press that they had talked just a few days earlier.
It’s not certain when the last date was that he saw her in person; certainly he accompanied her to the UCLA hospital when she was admitted just before Christmas 1964. Her private duty nurse verified that Nelson visited Jeanette during the hospital stay – although not on her shift.
Once Jeanette was released from UCLA and the private duty nurse was let go by Gene Raymond (and replaced with no one) on January 4, 1965, there was a period of 8 days before Gene finally sprang into action, putting his dying wife on a COMMERCIAL plane to Houston, Texas. Her life was in such jeopardy at this point, it boggles the mind that he did not instead drive down Wilshire Blvd where they lived and take her right back to UCLA where at least they might have tried to stabilize her. And only then, since her husband was an Army Air Force pilot, perhaps Gene could have called on a friend to use a private plane instead if she had to be flown anywhere.
There is the other issue of Jeanette’s phone being removed from her bedroom which the private duty nurse, Susan Nelson, verified…but of course the the logical thinking was that Jeanette was weak and having a phone added undue stress; according to Mrs. Nelson there was no phone in Jeanette’s hospital room for that very reason.
Nelson complained when his phone calls were diverted to Gene’s apartment but his last phone call with Jeanette (made from the living room, not her bedroom) reassured him that she was doing okay and recuperating.
The timing of Gene finally taking Jeanette to Houston cannot be a coincidence as all this went down while clueless Nelson was heading to Anaheim to open his nightclub act. What would have happened if Gene called Nelson instead and said, “Hey, old man, she’s in rough shape, can you come over and help?” If Gene wasn’t going to get a private plane to Houston, Nelson certainly could have quickly arranged it by calling a friend…he had connections everywhere. I think the reason Gene didn’t do this is obvious – for when the dust settled, Nelson would have understood what we now know to be true – the degree of neglect and abuse that went on under everyone’s nose.
In the end, Nelson did learn some of these details and he turned in anger to Jeanette’s sister Blossom for not alerting him. But Blossom herself seemed to be somewhat clueless. She was busy working on her TV series and she expected her sister was being cared for by those whose job it was to do exactly that.
In the years that I knew Blossom, she never expressed anger or lashed out against Gene Raymond regarding Jeanette’s final days…her only comment was finding a single can of soup in the cupboard but her assumption was – just like Nelson, that everything was being attended to with food made or brought in and Jeanette being carefully cared for and fed as best as she would eat.
But even as a teenager, my learning about this for the first time and trying to ask Blossom non-accusatory questions regarding Jeanette’s last days was frankly difficult…Blossom did mention the topic of some arguments Jeanette obliquely referred to in her 1963 diary about the “same old thing”…namely, Gene’s efforts to convince Jeanette that Nelson no longer cared for her. For decades I have said little about this subject, not wanting to judge either Blossom or Nelson because I felt I had to be missing some of the facts. But the discovery of Jeanette’s desk diary put into perspective that yes, this is exactly how things went down to its sad ending.
Below, Nelson standing on the left of the photo as Jeanette’s casket is carried out of the church. Note that all the honorary pallbearers are looking at the casket, Nelson is looking down.
Why did Jeanette not complain to either her sister or Nelson? It seems she confided in no one as to certain challenges in her life. We have learned that to be sadly true this last year…in her 1963 desk diary where she writes about the abuse and neglect going on in the final years of her life – which started earlier than I even understood. This has been covered in detail but honestly, there’s no joy in “being right” about what happened. It’s frankly inconceivable…. Maybe Jeanette didn’t think anyone would believe the truth after all the years of cover-up, maybe she could not muster the strength to deal with an ugly scene which, after all, she brought upon herself and blamed herself for. Her weight fell at times to below 100 pounds and she was suffering constant dizzy spells, fainting, migraines, etc. as her heart was failing.
I discuss in Sweethearts several “reasons” Jeanette gave for not wanting Nelson to see her as an aging sick woman. Getting old is no fun for anyone, having to scale back financially, being less able to work or do projects, having a body that fights your mind with its aches and pains, etc. But imagine what it’s like for someone who was once a great film star, idolized and on a pedestal to your public and to one certain man. When you have wielded such power, how hard is it to reach out for help in your low moments?
Was she simply resigned to the way her life was, tolerating it as abuse victims are sometimes prone to do?
While we are outraged over Jeanette’s story, there are other stars who have suffered unbeknownst to their fans… Mickey Rooney, for example, who finally spoke out but much too late. Rooney died in 2014, worth only $18,000 according to press reports. In October 2015, The Hollywood Reporter ran this article:
He was one of Hollywood’s greatest actors, someone whose estate could have been worth hundreds of millions when he died in summer 2014. Instead, he endured beatings, humiliation and poverty at the hands of his eighth wife and one of her sons, both accused today of elder abuse and destroying a legend.
Mickey Rooney shrieks in pain. Is he OK? “No, I’m not,” he says, choking back tears. It’s July 2010, inside The Grill on the Alley in Thousand Oaks, and in the midst of an interview with one of the authors of this piece, the diminutive 89-year-old has been kicked under the table by his eighth wife, Jan, as confirmed by his stepson, Chris Aber, who also is at the table. “She kicked him real hard,” says Chris with a laugh. Rooney’s offense? Rambling in his answers.
This meeting took place because the interviewer (who, as a then-freelance writer, was gathering material for a book) agreed to requirements set forth by Jan and Chris and conveyed to him over the phone by Kevin Pawley, Rooney’s Kentucky-based manager: Bring a check for $200 and slip it to Chris when Rooney wasn’t paying attention (ostensibly because financial transactions made him uncomfortable) and treat the three of them to lunch at the restaurant (Jan later ordered dinners to go for each of them).
A flip cam at the end of the table rolls as Jan, theatrically seeking the source of what caused her husband’s pain, peers under the table for a moment and then turns to Chris and scolds him for confirming, in part, what the general public only would learn later: In his final years, Rooney was the victim of ongoing elder abuse.
The alleged wrongdoing and how it went on for so long has been a mystery — until now. Five years after that interview, and more than a year after the star’s death, an investigation by The Hollywood Reporter (uncovering legal documents, witness testimony and financial records that never before have been publicized) indicates Rooney’s life was more abusive than he let on while he was alive.
My daughter Juliet and I went to see Mickey Rooney’s show during one of the last times he performed in New York state. He was still an entertainment powerhouse, a born vaudevillian who you sensed would die with his boots on. But I watched him carefully during a segment when the room went dark and some film footage was shown of him and Judy Garland as kids. He stood to the side leaning against a table; I ignored the movie footage and studied him. He looked very tired and frail and tried to catch his breath, he was gasping a bit. The footage of Judy brought tears to his eyes, he wept unabashed for a moment before wiping his eyes. My heart broke watching him, why did he have to be trotted out like this? Was this fun for him? Did he need the money that badly?
Well yes, apparently he did. After the show, Juliet and I dutifully bought something so we could meet and greet him, then we stood to the side just to observe. The wife and the son in particular were running the whole show and Mickey was very meek and compliant and honestly, something seemed very off about the whole setup. Juliet and I finally left and discussed our fears about his health during the entire drive home.
How much courage does it take for an older celebrity to reach out when help is needed?
I have written before about attending Eleanor Powell’s birthday party, 1978 I think it was. To walk in and meet her and have her do a dance for her guests – just to show that she still could dance like a dream – was a thrill. She was as gracious as could be but the first thing I noticed was that her clothes and shoes seemed a bit worn. This was a red flag to me but I said nothing. I also had a few phone conversations with her and twice we had long talks – or rather, she did most of the talking – and I realized then that she must be a very lonely person. She hardly knew me, she loved to reminisce about Nelson Eddy and she clearly adored him as her eyes filled with tears while discussing him with me at her party. Other than the politics between fan clubs, I don’t remember exactly what she was chatting about on the long phone calls. Only that I sensed her life was not all rosy.
When Peter Ford finally wrote a biography of his dad, Glenn Ford, only then did the facts come out that Eleanor suffered financial challenges in later years after her divorce from Ford and her life was difficult. I had observed something was not right and was saddened to learn that my observation was accurate. She was such a kind lady…no, it wasn’t fair.
Susanna Foster…It was obvious that she needed help when I first met her in 1983. She was living in a tiny place off Hollywood Blvd. with one of her fans. (Before that she was kicked off welfare and was living in her car.) There was no food in her refrigerator (just a bottle of wine) and I offered to take her shopping and/or to give her some money but she was too proud to accept help. Besides, she told me, she was taking on a job as a switchboard operator so she would have a salary. My God, this talented singer with a genius IQ working as a switchboard operator? She called me to pick her up when she was quickly fired and it was only then that I realized that her acting skill cleverly covered up what was obviously mental illness. She had spunk and stubborn pride and since she was proud of her singing voice still (she sang for me to prove it), I arranged for a singing gig – just a few numbers – that would have paid her a couple hundred dollars… as she wanted no charity. But – no, it was beyond what she could deal with. She did agree to have me take her out to eat at Musso and Frank’s. She ordered freely, assuming Paramount Studios was paying for this meal. Whatever. I happily paid and was glad she had leftovers to take home. I met one of her sons at the apartment, Philip (named after England’s Prince Philip), who was emaciated and strung out on drugs. Her other son Michael, wrote me the details of Philip’s death two years later:
On that November evening in 1985 Philip lapsed into hepatic coma (liver failure) on my mother’s living room floor and died three days later in Van Nuys Hospital. He was deeply steeped in the disease of alcoholism…he was an ‘alcoholic’, a very very sick one. Our family was literally wracked- to- death by this and mental illness. As you know my poor mother had a very sick mother was also alcoholic AND mentally ill. Both of my mother’s sister were heavily afflicted by mental illness and alcoholism. The majority of their children are fated with this dilemma. My son is schizo-affective as well as alcoholic and my daughter is alcoholic. This is a family disease….and you’re right it is “truly a miracle” that I can even write this note to you.
Michael Evans prided himself on being the only sane person in his family…but he admitted that even he struggled. He spoke at a club event in New York City and went into uncomfortably graphic details about what Susanna Foster endured during her childhood. And I questioned him separately about WHY Susanna and her two children lived sometimes in near-poverty in the years after her divorce from baritone Wilbur Evans. Why did Evans not realize that his children were at risk or that Susanna was not capable of taking care of herself or her children? Again – it was pride.
I also asked Michael why he or his brother did not confide to their father the sufferings they endured in their childhood… but they were numb. They didn’t want to rock the boat and perhaps upset their dad or their precarious lifestyle.
Michael was grateful that I understood the problems with his mother because some of her fans blamed him for not “helping” her when she refused all help. Eventually, though, he moved her to the East Coast where he lived and made sure she was safely taken care of in the Actors’ Home in New Jersey. When Susanna died I spent literally hours with Michael on the phone as he discussed the tragedy of his life and legacy.
I’m sure there are many more stories of film stars or celebrities who kept quiet about suffering in their later years – when any fan off the street would have been more than happy to help them in any way they could.
No wonder Jeanette leaned on her fans to the degree that she did, even in her declining days.
Below, Jeanette in her Houston hospital room about a year before her death.
Bringing this article back around to the subject of Jeanette’s own PRIDE, it appalls me to see how right up to the end, Nelson Eddy was treated like the “black sheep” of Jeanette’s life. Except by her sister Blossom, Nelson was considered a thorn in their side, “he who must not be named,” the outcast. Case in point: Jeanette being rushed to the hospital on December 21, 1964 but Nelson was unable to sign as a family member for the necessary surgery so what did he do? He had to find the husband of record and he called Jeanette’s secretary, Emily West, for Gene’s whereabouts. And after he located Gene and the surgery was done, what did Emily West do? Write a letter to Clara’s fan club president, Clara Rhoades, postmarked December 28, 1964, in which she notes that her Christmas plans were spoiled, she had planned a dinner for “J and G and Blossie and Gene’s brother and wife…”
But did Emily bother to invite Nelson to said dinner? Never, of course not! Probably he would have declined anyway, preferring to spend time privately with Jeanette rather than having to play social friends with people who didn’t like him – excluding Blossom. That’s probably why he had his own apartment in the building right next door to Jeanette. (This did not become public knowledge until after Nelson’s death, when his widow eventually chose to move into it.) Or maybe Ann had made plans for him with her family. But that’s not the point. My God, the man had been a fixture in Jeanette’s life for over 30 years. And yet to the bitter end, they only had stolen moments together. And lived with constant disapproval around them, whether voiced loudly or not at all.
Does Emily mention that Nelson was the upset, traumatized one who went to the hospital with Jeanette, that Nelson was even on the scene? Nope – that’s all conveniently rewritten out of history! Instead, Emily is quick to point out that on Christmas Gene “managed to make it to dinner and THEN (underlined) returned to the HOSPITAL IMMEDIATELY (underlined). “So our Xmas wasn’t too gay this year!” writes Emily. And Gene Raymond comes off looking like the very devoted husband diligently putting his wife first. “As ever – Emily” she signs this letter and yes, it was as ever, always spinning the correct PR.
For some reason, it seems far more painful this year to contemplate the events leading up to Jeanette’s funeral on January 18. The rejection and pain that Nelson endured – on so many levels – must have been devastating.
Today we remember Jeanette MacDonald…but instead of the normal tribute to her life and career, I’d like to quote from a Nelson Eddy fan report of a concert given by Nelson on April 22, 1942. This was during World War II and on this Wednesday evening, Nelson was singing in El Paso, Texas to a crowd sitting on folding chairs. The female fan wrote:
When Nelson Eddy strides out I am almost electrocuted. He is a very different Eddy in concert than the one I had been seeing…. “Star Spangled Banner” – his voice ringing out deep and clear above everybody’s…. He is not merry tonight; in fact, rather sad. sad, quiet, poised…
Mr. Eddy had as his guests 100 soldiers from the hospital. They requested him to sing “Danny Boy” and he said that as he didn’t know the words very well he would sing it with different words, “My Love of Londonderry” and we could just imagine he was singing the other ones.
At this point Nelson proceeded to sing the “Danny Boy” melody but with different lyrics. It should be noted that Nelson had, in fact, sung this song several previous times on the radio, in 1936, 1937, 1939 and 1940. He would sing it at least six more times on radio and record it twice on record. On his 1936 tour, it was one of his standard encores after every performance. Here are the original lyrics:
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
It’s highly unlikely that Nelson Eddy “didn’t know the words very well.” Granted, this song has been sung with different lyrics over the decades but certainly Nelson was quite familiar with it. What stands out is that after singing “Danny Boy” in September 1936 and September 1937, Nelson did not sing the sing the song the following autumn – of 1938.
So what happened in 1938? Why did the song drop out of his repertoire altogether in the fall of that year with a future lame excuse that he “didn’t know the words very well?”
I’m sure some of you are a few steps ahead of me here… aware that in 1938 Jeanette MacDonald came the closest she would ever come to having a baby with Nelson Eddy…a too-premature boy that did not live but that they named Daniel, in honor of her deceased father.
In 1937 and 1939, Nelson sang on his radio show the different lyrics found below. The alternate version that Nelson sang was called “My Love of Londonderry.” In his intro to singing it (in 1937), Nelson says: “Inspired by the old and familiar ‘Londonderry Air’, Helen Vordemann Knox made it into a romantic love song. Through her re-setting of the music, she added a beautiful and poetic lyric. Then very appropriately she called it, ‘My Love of Londonderry’. ”
This is the version that Nelson chose to sing when not wanting to do the standard “Danny Boy” lyrics. He’s referring to the blue-eyed girl that he loves. This cannot be coincidental because in 1937 he was facing making a new film with Jeanette after her marriage to Gene Raymond…and he wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending he was over her. And as for October 22, 1939, Nelson was again trying desperately to make peace with Jeanette so they could work together in New Moon. These were highly personal lyrics, proclaiming his love for her. Did it soften her up? Remember also that Nelson told Jeanette to sing “One Kiss” just for him, writing her that “my love for you is indestructible.” So what did Jeanette do? She sang “One Kiss” on a radio show exactly one week later, October 29, 1939.
In September of 1940 Nelson sang it again – on a show called “We Think of England.” Not his normal radio show. And then he skipped 1941. Then sang “My Love of Londonderry” at this April 1942 concert and and less than a month later the same melody on the radio again – but instead with the original “Danny Boy” lyrics (we have the show here to verify).
Truly this was a sad song for Nelson after 1938 with the “Danny Boy” lyrics…but when requested to sing it by an audience of WWII servicemen, he sang the more personal lyrics instead about a beautiful girl with sweet blue eyes…and “the love that never dies.” Though even with that version, the fan writing about Nelson’s concert in April 1942 noted how subdued he was.
Actually, folks, there WAS a reason that Nelson chose not to sing “Danny Boy” that evening and it had everything to do with what was happening in his life and in Jeanette’s at that time. But that is another story. The audience accepted the excuse he gave.
So on this 2016 anniversary of Jeanette MacDonald’s death, here is an obvious tribute to her life, beauty and love sung by a man who knew her better than any of us ever could. Here are the lyrics for “My Love of Londonderry”, a song that at times had a private, special meaning when Nelson sang them:
‘Twas in the dear old town of Londonderry
‘Twas in the merry, merry month of May.
‘Twas there I found my own, my blue-eyed darling.
In one short hour she stole my heart away.
“Will you be mine?”, I asked her, gently pleading.
“Sure it was heaven that made you just for me.”
Only one look she gave me from her sweet blue eyes
But in that glance, I saw the love that never dies.
‘Twas in the dear old town of Londonderry
‘Twas in the merry, merry month of May
The blackthorn buds were bursting into flower
The birds were singing blithe and gay.
Sure my own heart itself with joy was bursting
God ever bless the merry month of May
For it was then I found my blue-eyed darling
And wooed and won her heart to be my own always.
As a postscript, the fan wrapped up her narrative:
The Liberty Hall – where the concert was held – was 7 blocks from “our” hotel…. I rushed [to get back to the hotel] for it was blowing and raining…. When I got there I sat on the big majestic chair which was near the elevators – a tall, straight backed carved Spanish affair. In about two minutes a party came marching in the front doors, a pair of broad shoulders being the most dominant element…How different he looked from that concert apparition! Maybe it was that big grey overcoat, but he looked rather huge, very tired and quiet.
Note: Nelson did write the lyrics to a new song about Jeanette; the 70th anniversary of his singing “My Wonder One” on the radio is explored here.
Today we celebrate Jeanette’s life…and also remember and honor her older sister Blossom Rock (aka Marie Blake, pictured below) who, ironically enough, also died on this day exactly thirteen years after Jeanette on January 14, 1978.
By the way, you can listen to Nelson’s radio rendition of this song at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npqMilMRCkk. Note that the video says 1938 but once it starts playing the correct date is flashed on the screen, it’s the 1937 version that Nelson sang on September 19, 1937. Thanks to Kitty Job for spotting this and providing the correct link.
