{New Article} 1941: She Knew What She Wanted

From 1941, this article, taking its title from her recent film, boasts the triumphs of Carole Lombard, a gal who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it!

What makes Carole Lombard different from Ye Average Woman is that she knows what she wants. What removes her to another planet entirely is that she goes after it—and gets it.

Most women lead lives of noisy desperation. They ask everyone, including the corner cop, just which man to marry, what dress to wear today, what car to buy, which recipes to use, and in the end what cemetery to choose for the final collapse. They haven’t the faintest idea of what they want, ever.

But not Carole.

The average woman should be named Jane C. Doe—C for Compromise. Because if she does (by any freak of fate) discover that she wants a career or Clark Gable, she does nothing more than talk about it. Instead, she makes for the most convenient husband in the most convenient rut—and complains. 

But as for Carole, no!

Ever since she climbed out of her crib, Carole’s known what she wanted, quickly and precisely. She always aimed straight for it—and got it. Not by trickery or devious means—just by doggedness and, oddly enough, by being natural. This is another miracle for the female of the species. “Natural” is a word that jars on most women’s sensitive ears.

Her most spectacular achievement was Gable—the biggest and most elusive catch in Hollywood. The road to Gable was littered with the bodies of women who had tried and failed. But Carole succeeded—with the same methods she used on every other goal in her short and progressive life.

I think I’ll overlook the awful sexism here, considering it’s 1941 (but this article is written by a woman! Mercy!)…

Every night, when she descended to her dainty drawing room and the waiting Gable, she was dressed in one of her favorite chic black frocks and clouds of veiling. Lily Dache and Schiaparelli and the brilliant designers of Hollywood all labor mightily to create her stunning outfits.

Clark would say, “Hi, there!” and escort her out to his car—the old and un-bathed Ford, with the top down. Carole would climb in, in her perishable clothes, and be blown into Hollywood. When they alighted at the Beverly Hills Brown Derby or the swank dinner party toward which they were headed,Carole looked as if she’d battled singlehanded with a typhoon. Her hair hung like a matted curtain over her eyes, her hat was decorated with oil and tire marks (of course it blew into the road halfway to town) and her smart black frock was covered with a fascinating film of dust, straws and insects. Carole had two beautiful sedans in her garage, which she could easily have maneuvered Gable into using.

But she didn’t. She did things his way.

Haha, can’t you just see Carole all mussed up in her glamorous black evening gown!  I think that it is a big exaggerated. Clark also had a nice car or two. And he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t have forced her to ride in an old Ford and get dirty on their way to a night on the town, I don’t think.

Carole had decided that she liked Gable…so she went to work to like the things he did. How many average women…? But you know the answer. None.

However, there was a lot more to it than that. There was naturalness. This was another astonishing discovery to Gable. For years women had mobbed him, in the same old way. They flattered him, clung to him, attempted to draw him out—and were a relentlessly cooing audience to his every word. He was used to this, mildly amused, and deeply disinterested.

Now he found himself with Carole. On their long drives toward hunting, fishing and skeet-shooting, she didn’t act like the platoons of women before her. She acted like herself. She talked and talked and talked—about politics, baseball, books, and everything but Hollywood. And when Carole talks, she doesn’t talk—she shouts. To vary the shouting, she screams, and also she swears like a trooper.

Clark loved it. He drove along in the old Ford, his teeth clenched on a pipe and wearing a continual grin. Meanwhile Carole shrieked beside him—her latest opinions on everything but Carole. Never once did she mention herself. She was stimulating, she was entertaining, she was first-rate company. She was, in a word, natural.

 I think this is very true. She was very natural with him and I think that is one of the reasons he was so in love with her and vice versa–they could be themselves around each other, without pretense or game-playing. And can’t you just see her gabbing along in a high pitch to him as they drive down the road in the mud!

You can read the article on its entirely in The Article Archive.

Check out 10 new, just-uploaded pictures of Clark and Carole in the gallery!