{New Article} 1947: The Gable I Know

Okay, this article is terrible. I said that right off the bat so you don’t have to read the whole thing and then come back and leave me comments about what a waste of time it is. I know it is a waste of time. I can think of a thousand things I would have rather done than spend my time typing, scanning and uploading this ridiculous article. But this website is “Everything Clark Gable.” So here you go anyway. You’re so welcome.

This complete fluff is written by Hedda Hopper, so I suppose we should not be surprised it is utterly pointless. Her autobiography is the epitome of false advertising: called “The Whole Truth and Nothing But,” it provided no earth shattering revelations about any of the dozens of celebrities she knew over the years and dragged on and on into a self absorbed pit of pointlessness. But I digress.

Clark was chummy with both Hedda and her arch rival columnist, Louella Parsons. This may or may not have just been for self preservation.  You can find pictures of him happily getting along with either of them and they both claim they were the first called for this Gable story or that one.

The first time I fell for Gable all I saw was his back! I was sitting twelfth row center at a Broadway play called “Machinal.” Although I leaned in my seat and craned my neck like a hick I never did see his face. Just his back. But that was enough. It had strength and vigor and the comforting maleness that women adore.

“Who is that?” I whispered to my companion. He peered at his program. “Let’s see—it says, ‘Clark Gable.’ Never heard of him.”

“Neither have I,” I sighed, “but you can wrap him up and send him over!”

Hollywood took care of that. Soon afterwards I was acting on a picture set right beside the glamor-back guy.

Clark played a laundry truck driver in that picture. Me, I was a sassy baggage, as usual. Neither of us was a star. In fact, we were both VUP’s—Very UNimportant People—then. But the star was a VIP—definitely! And did she know it! She didn’t deign to speak to the rest of the cast.

Pretty soon Clark got disgusted. One day when Miss Temperament sashayed by without even a nod, he raised his black eyebrows and then gave him a puzzled knit. “Say,” he asked me, “what’s eating her, anyway?”

“A common Hollywood affliction,” I cracked. “’Big-head’ we called it back in Altoona.”

Clark whistled and shook his head. “If that ever happens to me,” he said, “I hope somebody kicks me right out of town!”

So Hedda could tell just by Clark’s back that he would be a big star. Of course she did. The movie she mentions here is The Easiest Way and the leading lady is Constance Bennett, who was known at that time for her diva behavior. No surprise there.

No one could have been nicer to his coworkers than Clark. One day I was on the set of Jean Harlow’s picture, “Red Headed Woman.” It was just another picture for Clark. He already was Mister Hollywood then, as he is now. Jean had made “Hell’s Angels” and proved a one-picture sensation. She was anxious to come through again and very nervous about it.

When I arrived, Jean was in tears. She’d been blowing take after take in her nervousness. The director was at his wits end. After spoiling another take, Jean finally gave up and ran to her dressing room. Clark followed her, put his arm around her like a big brother and I heard him say: “Listen, honey, that’s just a little bit of film running through a camera. It doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. They’ve got plenty more, so take your time and don’t be nervous. Let’s try it again,” he grinned, “while we’re all worked up, hot and bothered.”  Jean laughed and the ice was broken. He’s as comforting as a doctor when he wants to be. On the other hand, if you’re gone on him, Gable in the flesh can be very upsetting.

I’m thinking of Judy Garland, who toted a teenage torch for Clark that was a lulu. Clark was her god. That’s why Judy got such a thrill when Roger Eden wrote that song for her to sing at am MGM exhibitor’s convention in Hollywood. You remember—“Please, Mister Gable?”

I happened to be lunching on the MGM lot with Clark when he got the idea he’d like to meet Judy and hear that song in person. “Come on,” he grinned. “Let’s go over to Judy Garland’s set and say hello.”

Clark walked in, beamed his most charming smile and draped his arm down over the canvas chair that said, “Judy Garland.” Judy was in it and her eyes opened up as wide as saucers.

“Judy,” Clark pleased in his most persuasive voice, “will you sing my song for me?” Judy didn’t answer, she couldn’t. The crew gathered around sensing an occasion and Judy, little trouper that she was, climbed up on a table, a piano player twirled his stool and she went into “Please Mister Gable,” singing right to Clark. She sang it as she never had before because Judy Garland was singing to a very special audience.

When she was through, Clark stepped up, lifted her down and gave her a great big kiss. “Thanks, honey,” he smiled. “That was a real thrill.”

There are quite a few things wrong with this excerpt. First of all, Clark Gable was not in the film Red Headed Woman with Jean Harlow. So either she’s mixing him up with Chester Morris or she’s mixed up the film with The Secret Six or Red Dust or Hold Your Man.

Judy Garland, by her own account, was not in love with Clark. Found him charming, but never had a crush on him. She was assigned to sing the song and so she did. The song in question is “Dear Mr. Gable,” unless I am mistaken and then I should promptly change the name of my website to “Please, Mister Gable?” which I don’t think is even a line in the song.  I have heard enough accounts of Clark Gable’s birthday party on the set of Parnell in 1937 to know that that occasion was the first time he heard Judy sing “his song” in person. I cannot imagine Clark marching onto a set and pretty much demanding an impromptu performance of “his song.” How rude. I think that whole thing is made up.

Clark can’t look at a woman without a marriage rumor. I suppose in his Hollywood career, Clark has had his name linked with as many women as Errol Flynn. But there’s a difference. In Clark’s case, there has never been one drop of scandal.

In fact, the only scandal I know about my old friend Clark Gable is an item I doubt if even Clark himself knows. I’ll just have to tell it on him before I let him off the hook, so he won’t look too much like a saint.

There was a little girl in Hollywood, the daughter of a producer, who trotted off to a movie matinee one Saturday afternoon. Her mother thought she was going to see a Walt Disney Silly Symphony—obviously harmless—and when she came home they asked her how she liked it.

“Fine,” said the little girl. “Norma Shearer’s so pretty!”

They didn’t get it. What was Norma Shearer doing in a Disney movie? They questioned the child and found she’d seen the burning adult drama “A Free Soul” with Shearer and Gable instead.

But the kid had another question. “Mother,” she asked, “is Norma Shearer sick?”

They said no—what made her think so?

“She must be,” insisted the tot. “Because in the picture she was lying down all the time!”

That set the producer and his wife to thinking—and talking—and that’s when the Hays office was born. So I guess that makes Clark Gable the first real swoon king whether he knows it or not. For my money, he always will be.

Not a drop of scandal huh? Loretta Young might have a different opinion!

This little story is ridiculous. It’s Clark’s fault these people let their small child go to the movies by herself?

You can read the article in its entirety in The Article Archive.

Sincerely,

Webmaster of PleaseMrGable.com