1936: Gable the He-Man Talks

Gable the He-Man Talk…and says “I’m Shy!”

By Reginald Whitley

The Daily Mirror, June 22, 1936

A man with a very dirty face. A man in a grimy, tattered suit. A queer-looking cove with blood-stains all over him, sitting patiently on a rickety old camp-stool.

Don’t look round now, but it’s your old friend, Clark Gable.

Want to know what he’s really like?

If he’s really and truly the Tall-Dark-and-Handsome he looks on the screen? If he’s really so tough as the pictures make him out to be?

I’ll tell you now.

Better still, Clark Gable will tell you himself.

He said this:

“I’ve had my share of luck. I’m not so much a fool as not to admit that. Luck, actually, is my so-called success…”

And this:

“I’m merely one little cog in a machine which is so much bigger and stronger than any one man that it makes me feel pretty small when I think about it…”

Modest?

Yep. And he means it, too.

Clark Gable has more natural modesty and sincerity than a gross of social workers. He’s on top of the world—and he says:

“Whitley, even today I can’t get used to big crowds. I was self-conscious as a kid, and believe me I’ve just never been able to get over it.”

I wondered why.

“It’s my hands and feet,” he said. “I never seem to know what to do with them!”

Clark’s big ears are famous today even in Tibet, but it’s his big feet that make Hollywood laugh. You see, he takes size ELEVEN in shoes!

I love listening to this man. His calm voice—his pleasing manner—his smile—his frankness.

“The other day, miles away from the studios, I had a puncture,” he said. “The weather was terrible—drizzling rain, all that sort of thing. I started changing the tire, and when I looked up I saw a crowd had gathered round me.

“They wanted to change the tire for me. Said that to me—who once worked as a driller in an oilfield!”

We were talking on the set at Culver City. He was waiting to go on a scene which was being prepared.

Now it was my turn to wait—the scene was ready. But watching Gable work was an education.

Temperature—90 in the shade.

Background—a portrayal of San Francisco after the earthquake.

Under a fallen building, buried among tons of debris, lay a young girl, her eyes and hair covered by dust and dirt. She was an ordinary “extra”: it was her job to be rescued by Clark Gable.

Ninety in the shade is not my idea of ideal conditions for carrying out work like this. But that girl just liked being rescued; she wanted to be rescued—and rescued—and rescued.

And she was lucky. Director W.S. Van Dyke insisted on shooting the scene FOUR TIMES.

Current rescue work over and done with, Gable and I continued our talk.

“How did you like my portrayal of Captain Christian in ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’? I wondered how British audiences would accept an American’s interpretation of a typically British role.”

“No complaints,” I said, and Clark smiled his famous smile; the one that goes all over his face.

See, he likes to give filmgoers their money’s worth, likes to give them a good show. It’s not so much that he cares about personal success.

“Success?” He dismissed it with a gesture and a grin.

“What is success, anyway?” In this game you go up and up and down and down with such speed that no one knows what will happen next. And you certainly don’t know yourself.”

Chances are an English visit for Gable are slender.

“Sure, I’d like to,” he said. “But ‘Cain and Mabel,’ in which I play opposite Marian Davies, is to be my next picture, and then I return to MGM to do ‘Parnell.’

“If I manage a vacation at all I shall probably slip up to the mountains and get in a little trout fishing. I like trout fishing. Fishing and flying are my pet hobbies.”

We parted. A real he-man handshake…

As I nursed my crushed fingers the famous lady-killer jumped in his antiquated flivver, waved, and then drove off. Which flivver reminds me…

Clark was surprised in the studios one day by a tremendous crate, all nicely done up with yards and yards of white silk ribbon and rope.

Unveiled, it brought forth a car—a weary car—a very, very, weary car. “With best wishes,” said the note, “from Pal Carole Lombard.”

Clark had the old bus renovated, painted white, and gingered up the engine. He drives in it now around the studios.

What is he like, our Tall-Dark-and-Handsome?

You know now…He’s Hollywood’s Foremost Good Sort!