The Books: “Cooper’s Women” (Jane Ellen Wayne)

Daily Book Excerpt: Entertainment Biography/Memoir:

Cooper’s Women, by Jane Ellen Wayne

This is not an “important” biography. It’s not a biography at all, really. It is a list of Gary Cooper’s many conquests, written in a chatty movie-magazine style, and I’m not gonna lie: I ATE IT UP. Jane Ellen Wayne has made a career out of writing books such as this one, and they all have titles like: Gable’s Women, Crawford’s Men, etc. etc. What cracks me up about Cooper’s Women is that Wayne blithely reports word for word conversations, as though this is a novel, and even though the conversation happened in 1925, and it probably didn’t happen exactly the way she reports it, at least not word for word, she doesn’t care. She is going for a chatty as-though-you-are-there feeling. This is the kind of book that the stars themselves probably hate. BUT, at the same time: Wayne is the ultimate fan. She LOVES these people. Yes, she wants the dirt on them, but it is only because she loves them so much. It is vaguely psychotic, as most fangirl ravings are (I should know), but it is essentially kind. Also, frankly, I’m desperate for information about Gary Cooper and as far as I’m concerned, he has not been given his due – in terms of having a giant serious biography written about him. There are a couple of folks out there who haven’t had that “treatment” yet, and I live in hope. Joan Crawford, anyone? I know there’s a new one out about her, which I haven’t read, but from what I’ve heard it is also not “serious”. Come on. Let’s slay that Mommie Dearest ghost. She’s a great American actress. Her work deserves to be looked at seriously.

Same with Gary Cooper who was the biggest star of his day, and, actually, any day. He was the top box office star for YEARS. Cary Grant, no small shakes himself in the stardom department, had a funny theory about Hollywood and stardom being like a crowded streetcar. Peter Bogdonavich asked Cary Grant to elaborate. Grant said:

Becoming a movie star is something like getting on a streetcar. Actors and actresses are packed in like sardines.

When I arrived in Hollywood, Carole Lombard, Gary Cooper, Marlene Dietrich, Warner Baxter, Greta Garbo, Fred Astaire, and others were crammed onto the car. A few stood, holding tightly to leather straps to avoid being pushed aside. Others were firmly seated in the center of the car. They were the big stars. At the front, new actors and actresses pushed and shoved to get aboard. Some made it and slowly moved toward the center.

When a new “star” came aboard, an old one had to be edged out the rear exit. The crowd was so big you were pushed right off. There was room for only so many and no more.

One well-known star, Adolphe Menjou, was constantly being pushed off the rear. He would pick himself up, brush himself off, and run to the front to fight his way aboard again. In a short time he was back in the center only to be pushed off once more. This went on for years. He never did get to sit down.

It took me quite a while to reach the center. When I did make it, I remained standing. I held on to that leather strap for dear life. Then Warner Baxter fell out the back, and I got to sit down.

When Gregory Peck got on, it was Ronald Colman who fell off.

The only man who refused to budge was Gary Cooper. Gary was firmly seated in the center of the car. He just leaned back, stuck those long legs of his out in the aisle, and tripped everyone who came along.

When Joan Fontaine got on, she stood right in front of me and held on to one of those leather straps. I naturally got to my feet, giving her my seat. Joan sat down and got an Academy Award!

His career spans decades. He got his start in silent films, playing extras in cowboy movies. There was no indication that he had any gift for acting. But he knew how to ride a horse. Then came a “big break” – in a scene that ended up getting cut – in The Winning of Barbara Worth, starring Ronald Colman. Now: I’m interested in the story because it seems to me to be the birth of the actor here. Who knows what was going on in Gary Cooper. Who knows what his dreams were (hello. That’s why we need a big biography, thanks.) He had already lived quite an interesting life at this point, and he was still a young man. He had been taken under the wing by some countess, basically, who showed him the fine life, and the taste of good things, she taught him how to dress, and perhaps even how to fuck. Cooper always had women who wanted to help him. And if you see photos of him, even hanging out at his house, he always looks immaculate. Not in a dandyish way, just elegant, masculine, beautiful. He had been taught. But what else did he want out of life? Did he dream of being a star? It’s not clear. He had wandered quite a bit before landing in Hollywood. So this story – of everyone on the set of Barbara Worth suddenly realizing that that EXTRA was actually an actor – and a better actor than any of them put together – gives me goosebumps. Oh, and that anecdote came out of Scott Berg’s biography of Samuel Goldwyn, so I think it’s a leeeeetle bit more reliable than Miss Wayne’s book. I’m just sayin’.

Jane Ellen Wayne’s book deals indirectly with Cooper’s career. She’s more interested in his girlfriends. Cooper slept with everyone. He was married, and never got divorced – and she (“Rocky”) sounds like an amazing woman in her own right … She gave Cooper the stability he yearned for, a beautiful home, a safe haven … but he was not faithful. Somehow, the marriage worked. No judgment. When you read Patricial Neal’s autobiography – you ache for Neal, who considered Gary Cooper to be the great lost love of her life. I mean, you ache for Neal in so many ways … God. It’s like God sent down wrath upon her life or something … Like: ENOUGH. This woman has had ENOUGH. But you can tell how haunted she is by Gary, and the entire book ends with her and Gary Cooper’s wife going to lunch … finally, after so many years, after his death. Kind of extraordinary. Some of the women Cooper messed around with were basically party girls like Clara Bow (they were a notorious couple), and others were more serious – but the serious ones were the ones that got burnt.

This is so not like me to discuss an actor’s personal life like this – forgive me. It’s because I’m talking about a book called COOPER’S WOMEN, for God’s sake. I read it in desperation because Cooper is one of my favorites, and there’s not all that much out there.

So here I am babbling about his Little Black Book of fuck buddies. (shaking my head in shame). It is indicative that none of these women – not even Patricia Neal – has anything bad to say about him. Clara Bow, in her nursing home, near the end of her life, said something like, “He was the nicest man I ever met.” I mean, people have long long memories … and Gary Cooper had one of the best reputations in Hollywood, just as a working man – and also as a Lothario. Women didn’t “turn” on him. They remained loyal, remembering him as kind and sweet. Also, let’s face it. Dude was hot.

One of Gary Cooper’s big breaks was in William Wellman’s Wings, in 1927, starring Clara Bow. Gary Cooper is not the lead, but he makes an impression.

I chose an excerpt today from Cooper’s Freakin’ Women that deals with Wings. I very much like Cooper’s generosity, in retrospect, towards his two male co-stars. Now that’s class.

EXCERPT FROM Cooper’s Women, by Jane Ellen Wayne

But Cooper’s riding and roping were once again interrupted because Clara Bow could not live without him for very long. He was the only man who could satisfy her in bed. Their reconciliation presented only one problem for Clara, and that was Gary’s desire to marry her. She tried to discourage him by admitting she couldn’t have children, ” ’cause I don’t have all my parts down there.” Clara pouted. It wouldn’t be fair to him, after all. He was the kind of fellow who deserved a family. Cooper didn’t change his mind about Clara, but they were no longer inseparable.

At this time, 1927, Paramount was going all out with a $2-million budget for Wings, a World War I aviation spectacular with Buddy Rogers and Richard Arlen, both beginners with only three movie credits. The cast was all-male until Lasky decided it was crucial that he feature one woman. For box-office insurance he chose Clara Bow. Her contract allowed her the right to refuse any script she didn’t like, and Wings was one of them.

“It’s a small part,” she told Lasky. “Who needs it?”

“Wings is a man’s picture, granted, but you’ll be outstanding as the only woman, and we’ll give you top billing.”

Clara snapped her gum and smiled coyly. “You trying to boost Rogers?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Arlen, too?”

“Maybe. We hope so, of course.”

“Gary’s had more exposure.”

Lasky felt a headache coming on. “What are you trying to say, Clara?”

“I might consider doing the picture if Gary’s in it.”

“He’s not finished with The Last Outlaw and I have another Western lined up for him.”

“Gary and me or nothin’!”

“Swell … ”

Cooper wasn’t unhappy to be out of the saddle. He wanted to travel to San Antonio and see the Alamo, anyway. Besides, he’d have the chance to work with Arlen. Another incentive was having Clara all to himself far away from her Chinese Den. The more he thought about it, the more he looked forward to the idea. As for Miss Bow, she couldn’t get enough of Gary and hoped to change his mind about marriage. Her addiction to him was enough without bringing in the white picket fence, two-car garage, and baby carriage.

Twenty-nine-year-old rookie director William Wellman was assigned to the airplane epic. A former pilot, actor, and Foreign Legionairre, Wellman later became famous for his direction of A Star Is Born, Call of the Wild, The Story of G.I. Joe, and Battleground, to name a few. Wings was Wellman’s first major accomplishment. Years later he recalled: “Clara was in her glory. She was the center of attention and the only woman on location. She and Cooper took off when they weren’t working, but when Clara was filming she divided her time between Arlen and Rogers and Cooper, who was jealous as hell. There were others ‘in her tent’, too. Her timing was unique. Clara was concerned, however, when she found out her boyfriend, Victor Fleming, was directing a Western nearby. She managed to keep him happy, too, but didn’t like seeing Coop and Vic becoming good friends on the set. Fleming was a man’s man and I’m sure they were discussing hunting and fishing. Clara seemed more at ease when Vic returned to Hollywood.”

In Wings Cooper had only one major scene. “I played the veteran flyer,” he explained. “Dick and Buddy were cadets. The camera picked me up munching on a chocolate bar in their tent. I kinda salute, throw the half-eaten candy aside, and take off for some test flying. I’m killed, but all you see is the shadow of my plane. Then the camera focuses on the unfinished chocolate. I always give credit to Arlen and Rogers for their swell reaction to my death. They made me a hero.”

Wellman shot the scene and was satisfied. Cooper was stunned when Wellman yelled, “Cut and print!” the first time around. Richard Arlen recalled, “Coop’s mouth actually dropped open. I think he ran through it with such ease expecting to do it again.” Wellman was surprised when Cooper came to his tent later that day to plead for a retake. “I didn’t know the camera was rollin’ and want to do it again,” he asked.

“It was perfect,” Wellman said. “What’s the problem?”

“Well, ya see … I mean … well, I was pickin’ my nose …”

“You rubbed your nose two or three times with your thumb.”

“No, sir. I was … uh … pickin’ my nose.”

Wellman laughed. “You go right on picking your nose and you’ll make yourself a fortune.”

Years later, Wellman tried to describe the effect Cooper had on the scene. “I think one is born with it,” he said. “Gable with his ears had it. Bogart lisped, but he had it. Tracy wasn’t handsome, but he had it. They all played themselves, mind you. If Cooper was clumsy or mumbled or picked his nose, it didn’t matter. Like the others he had what I call motion-picture personality. I wish someone could describe this chemistry. These guys became top stars and made millions.”

Wings won an Oscar for best picture the first year of the Academy Awards, 1927. Warner Brothers received a special one for The Jazz Singer, the first talking picture, which revolutionized the industry.

Charles “Buddy” Rogers became popular for a short time, but was not the leading man Paramount expected. Richard Arlen was established and Gary Cooper received some fan mail. Clara Bow as an ambulance driver was adorable in uniform, but none of the major players were acclaimed. The Literary Digest said it was a fine picture largely by virtue of its success in reproducing scenes of actual combat in airplanes.