{New Article} 1934: Why I Like To Be Alone

Here is another article from 1934. This one is a typical “Clark Gable isn’t into the glamour and glitz of Hollywood! He is an outdoorsy, simple man just like you!” piece.

 

“Hollywood is over-civilized! A man could go soft in this place in a month. I had to fight like the devil during the first year or so to keep my perspective. Too much chatter. Too many parties. Too much bunk! That’s why I took to going off the backwoods by myself. I had to do that or go crazy…” This was Clark Gable—the last of Hollywood’s Great Untamed—speaking.

“The Last of Hollywood’s Great Untamed”—oh brother.

He looks you squarely in the eye and says: “The glamour of this town? Hooey! It’s a racket…”And he says it in a tone that means you-can-leave-it-or-lump-it. As a matter of fact, you like it. You pray for more—and you get it! “It’s cock-eyed, that’s all. Sure, it got me—when I first came out. I didn’t know how to relax on the set and I couldn’t relax off of it. It’s like being Exhibit A in a glue factory. You’re stuck! Only I wasn’t going to stay stuck. So, every chance I had, I skipped out.”

He skipped out to the wilds where even rumors couldn’t penetrate: where the Old-Timers could spike a beetle with tobacco juice seven yards away and thought Baby LeRoy was a new menace to Babe Ruth.

Not long ago a famous feminine star, to whose romantic maneuverings Clark had been stone-blind and deaf, asked plaintively: “Would you call him a savage gentleman—or a gentle savage?” Hollywood didn’t know the answer. It can’t understand a chap who wants to be alone occasionally, away from the handclasps and hullabaloo.

Not “Doing a Garbo”

 “But,” he points out, “get me straight on this solitude stuff. Old Man Gable isn’t doing a Garbo! If Hollywood mobs like to get out and hunt, why I’d be the ringleader. But Hollywood mobs don’t. They play bridge, they get steamed up over anagrams, they dance. I do a little of it because Mrs. Gable enjoys it, but if I was on my own I’d never show my face at a party. After all, I’m a Pennsylvania Dutchman—did you ever see one who could go in for frills and this lah-dee-dah business?

“I suppose it goes pretty deep with me, this wanting to get away from the crowds. Down to the roots, so to speak. And my roots are right in the ground. Earthy. I was born on a farm. I’ve bummed around a lot—ridden the rails, been a lumberjack, known very little of home life since I was sixteen. But the two things that can give me the darnedest homesick feeling are the warm, spicy smell of tomato ketchup cooking and a whiff of damp sagebrush…It must be the rural in me!”

Like I said, this is a consistent theme that MGM liked to push, push, push. I’ve often wondered if the fans of this era–suffering through the Great Depression at the time–were a bit taken aback that this rich actor guy can’t be bothered with all his glitz and fame and glamour. Guess not, judging on his popularity!

There isn’t one Hollywood rule that Clark follows. He caters to no one, asks no favors. But like other reclaimed lost souls, he’s a big softie at heart. For example: he’s dashed off the stage, while he was making “Chained” with Joan Crawford, as soon as the noon whistle blew, grabbed a sandwich, skirted the gate on two wheels and spent his entire lunch hour popping away with a gun at flying discs. It’s called “skeet-shooting” and it’s supposed to perfect your aim for bird-shooting. But does Mr. Gable intend to go after birds? He does not! “Don’t think I could get a kick out of that,” he says.

That’s funny as there are pictures of Clark with birds he’s shot for years afterward. Guess he changed his mind?

You can read more about Clark wanting to be alone in The Article Archive.