{New Article} 1955: Let’s Just Say She’s a Friend of Mine (And Then They Eloped)

After Clark Gable’s fourth marriage to Sylvia Ashley imploded after less than two years, Clark’s stance on marriage was firm: “NO THANK YOU.” He echoed time and time again that he wasn’t cut out for marriage anymore, didn’t need it, didn’t want it, and was content to wander the planet alone.

But then in July 1955, after years of stating plainly that he would not get married again, he up and married Kathleen “Kay” Williams Spreckels to the surprise of everyone. So was Clark just really good at throwing the press off the track, thought he had them fooled with years of deflection? Not really. The truth is Kay got pregnant. And so they got married. (Unfortunately Kay miscarried a few months later.) So he probably meant this at the time:

It happened on “The Tall Men” location a few months ago. It was down in Durango, Mexico. Clark Gable and a reporter were sitting on the patio of the Hotel Posada Duran, nursing a couple of beers.

“When are you and Kay Spreckels getting married?” the reporter asked.

Gable put down his beer and ran the index finger of his right hand across his mustache. His man had just trimmed it this morning.

“Why don’t you cut it out?” the actor demanded. “Always trying to get me married.” He half smiled. “Why should I want to get married?”

“Because you’re a creature of habit,” the reporter answered. “Your whole life you’ve been a sucker for marriage.”

Gable took another swig of beer and rolled a cigarette for himself.

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But a man learns. From here on in I’m staying single.”

“Stop kidding.”

“On the level,” Clark insisted. “Kay’s a great gal. But we’re both at least three-time losers in this marriage routine. Better we stay friends.”

“Is that why,” the reporter asked, “you’ve been calling her in the States every day?”

Gable finished his beer and got to his feet. “Have to get over to Raoul Walsh’s place,” he announced. (Walsh directed “The Tall Men.”) “Have to talk about tomorrow’s scenes. And with that they fifty-four-year-old king of the leading men picked up his little tobacco bag and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “And I’m not getting married.” He bobbed his handsome head up and down as if to emphasize the point. The reporter was impressed but not convinced.

A week later the same reporter was sitting in a Hollywood night club called the Mocambo when Kay William Spreckels walked in.

Kay is one of the most cheerful, best-natured women in Hollywood. Always smiling, always pleasant, always ready with a quip. She reminds everyone of Gable’s third wife, the late Carole Lombard.

“When the King gets back from Mexico,” the newsman suggested, casual-like, “you two kids tying the knot?”

“You a professional match-maker or something?” Kay demanded.

“Level with me, Kay.”

“I’m leveling with you,” the blonde beauty said flatly. “I really am. Look at my arm.” She held up a well-formed limb. “Full of holes. I’ve been taking shots, all kinds of shots for typhoid, cholera, yellow fever. I’m going on that junket to Istanbul. You know, the opening of the new Hilton hotel.”

“Gable going with you? Maybe on a honeymoon?”

Kay Williams shook her head. “You must be sick, boy.”

Turns out Kay had quite the little reason not to go Istanbul!

There’s a recap of their wedding day in Minden, Nevada, and then this:

The only thing Kay wants, so she says, is to make Gable a good wife. And there is no one who doubts her word. She landed Clark by insisting that all she wanted from him was friendship on whatever terms he cared to give it.

Because she wanted nothing from him and proved it, Gable fell for Kay. In her presence he felt relaxed, at ease, always amused. She has the knack of handling him cheerfully, without his noticing he was being handled at all.

For example, after they came back to the ranch, she suggested a possible press conference to Clark. Now, Gable hates to answer personal questions. They always embarrass him. As a rule he shies away from all but a few reporters. Finally he agreed to talk to three or four reporters from the wire services. Soon the television network asked if they might cover it, too.

Gable has never appeared on any TV show, and he’s wary of the medium. Came the day of the press conference, however, and the TV cameramen were parked outside his estate. They sent a message: Couldn’t they come in?

Kay looked at Clark. “You’re not going to keep those guys out there in that hot sun,” she said good-naturedly. “Not you.”

Gable grinned. “Of course not. Let ‘em all in.”

Clark beamed with pride as Kay wisecracked with the newsmen. “Every time I pick up a newspaper,” she began, “I read that I’m good for Clark because I’m such an outdoor girl. Maybe we should pitch a tent and move outside with bedrolls. That’s a great way of beginning a marriage.”

“Tell me,” a girl reporter asked, “how did you manage to win your husband?”

“In a crap game,” Kay muttered beneath her breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

Gable interrupted politely. “I popped the question a few months ago.”

“We understand your wife is a very good cook.”

“Sure,” Gable nodded. “She makes very good soup, also very good coleslaw, the kind the Pennsylvania Dutch make.”

“That’s true,” the new Mrs. Gable chimed in. “But I always put in too much vermouth. That’s when I’m making a martini,” she quickly added. “I sure make lousy martinis.”

Kay Williams Gable bubbles over with an irrepressible sense of humor. She’s witty and trigger-sharp but she never presses, never pretends.

Hedda Hopper, a few weeks after the marriage, rang her up one afternoon. “Well, dearie,” she began. “Tell me, how did you propose to Clark?”

Kay answered forthrightly. “You’ve got that twisted, Hedda. He proposed to me. I’ve never proposed to a man in my life.”

I am sure it did irritate Kay that it was always said that she “won” her husband, like it was a game. After Carole Lombard died, it was always “who will WIN Clark???” I don’t understand how Kay was all of a sudden painted as this “outdoor girl.” Before she married Clark, she was a model in New York then jumped from one rich society husband to another. She wasn’t exactly camping and roughing while married to sugar heir Adolph Spreckels. She was born on a peach farm, is that where it comes from? And make no mistake–you better believe she never proposed to a man in her life! Geez.

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