MOM'S FAVORITE ACTORS

Sunday, March 6, 2011

I know that she liked G. Edward Robinson, loved his acting power and face and admired him all the more because his talented voice and face were used to negotiate any losses he may have endured due to size.
 
I know that she loved, maybe more like admired Fred MacMurray.
 
She did love Clark Gable.  I think that Clark Gable must have reminded her of her Uncle, someone whom she loved fiercely.  And what should be obvious to us all, she loved John Wayne; I mean there was a decanter of John Wayne on the living room brick mantle for years, partly in tribute to the actor but more of a way to keep a presence of Dad around since in her eyes and everybody else's Dad did look like John Wayne.  Yes, Mom loved John Wayne's presence, his voice, his figure as an American.  She accepted his physical prowess as an athlete at USC, the probable hero as a cowboy in early westerns, the hero of choice to fulfill America's role as leader in the world--strong, determined, humble, fair, and likeable.  John Wayne idealized America.  Coming out of a war that rationed butter, meat, and their physical presence with each other but certainly not their love, as is made clear by the devoted proclamations in their war letters, each was happy to be with the other, sharing a candy bar on the steps of some monument in each other's arms with a view of some part of Los Angeles, or enjoying a milkshake at Clifton's Cafeteria on Broadway to live and relive the storied and star-struck days of pre-war Los Angeles.  Dad and Mom both knew sacrifice like nothing we could imagine.  What little script Dad got in the war, he sent home to Mom and to his ma and pa, our sporadically-employed truck driver and mechanic.  The war helped to diffuse individual hardships into shared sacrifice, which helped to ease and set aside individual longings.  Each worked to help each other until that faith in the collective, in the war stopped paying dividends to one's personal needs for love, for safety, for creating.  Some of our best years are in childhood; thankfully, not all of the best years are.  But whatever one missed in one's real life, we could find an inspiring substitute in the stories and performances of the movies.  And certainly Mom loved the movies, Spencer Tracy, Clark Gable, Edward G. Robinson, Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Boris Karloff, Bella Legosi, Gene Kelly, Jimmy Stewart, Fred MacMurray, Ida Lupino, Van Johnson, Lana Turner, Ava Gardner (she did not understand her marriage to Sinatra), Vivian Leigh, Claudette Colbert, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, and Joan Fontaine, whom I know she loved.  Mom had an appreciation of and a liking for classical sensibilities and tastes.  She did not understand the hype of Alfred Hitchcock.

She liked Frank Sinatra but used to laugh at him because she remembers him early in the industry as a scrawny boy with protruding ears and trying too hard to produce a lilting voice.  I think that she laughed, too, at his appeal to the young girls, at the silliness of teenie-boppers going gaga over Sinatra.  And it was funny.  That image of Sinatra as a young boy contrasted with his "Chairman of the Board" image later in his career tickled mom.  Mom enjoyed seeing Sinatra at the Palladium in Hollywood with Dad but I remember her tones about Sinatra as a singer were that she could not take him serious.  He was hype, not a star; not, that is, until enough years accumulated in his career.  She liked other voices.  She loved, no, she adored Bing Crosby.  All of his songs; she found his voice comforting.  She appreciated his lyrics and his efforts and play with a song.  She loved his efforts to entertain, and why not?  Mom herself  liked entertaining,  liked having fun; she was a kind of director to her babies, whom she adored, orchestrating activities, and adventures.  She was a young girl all of her life, a perfect match for our adventure-seeking, adventure-loving Dad.