This is the centenary year of Marilyn Monroe. She was born in 1926 and died in 1962: a sad reversal of the numbers. Aubrey Malone has written a conceptual diary of her life in her own words, detailing seminal dates in her life and events that happened on those dates with thoughts he imagined she might have had on those dates.
The Marilyn Diaries is published by Charles Carlini, a former New York restaurateur, who founded the Casa Carlini publishing company
1952
It gives us the internal Marilyn, struggling against a life in the spotlight that she craved before realising how much it could steal away her soul. Below are some of her thoughts from 1952;
April 6
Was at a party tonight. One of those that makes you lose the will to live. Too many celebrities nursing their egos, making moves with agents, in love with their own voices as they told me how wonderful they were in their last movie. I could almost see the dollar signs in their eyes as they dreamt about Cadillacs and Swiss bank accounts and kidney-shaped swimming pools in Bel Air – not to mention winning an Oscar at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
Then there was little old me in a corner, being tapped on the shoulder by this sad sack who couldn’t get the girl he’d been chatting up all night and who suddenly decided I’d “do.” He started making eyes at me, gesturing the bedroom upstairs. He pointed to something in his pocket that could have been a condom. Or a drug. “I’m not that cheap,” I said.
He said, “How cheap are you?” and left. I got a cab home and cried myself to sleep.
April 13
I tell people my mother is dead. If I say she’s in a mental home, which she is, my career is as good as over. I hate telling lies but this business is built on them. We’re actors, aren’t we? That’s another word for lying. If we’re good enough at it we get to keep our careers.
April 14
Checked into a hotel tonight and the receptionist was rude to me. She pretended not to know who I was. Sometimes they really don’t, but I was dressed like Cleopatra and I had an entourage with me. Duh!
I didn’t let it faze me. You always know that look that says, “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” Because you’ve achieved something and they haven’t. And they’re sore about it. Well you know what, honeybunch? I do think I’m better than you. So there.
April 17
People flocking around me. It’s like being swallowed up by piranha fish.
April 28
Had my appendix out. I asked the doctor to just leave a small scar. He said, “Is it going to be on the cover of a movie magazine?” I deserved that.
May 3
It’s come out that my mother is alive. Ruins all that publicity about me being an orphan. I never wanted that. Serves the studio right. The lies they tell. Lies always come back to haunt you. At least they didn’t say “Marilyn Monroe – Playboy Centrerfold.” That’s another one of my secrets that could come back to bite me some day – and probably will.
May 21
Was meant to have wardrobe fittings for “Niagara,” my next movie, ” today. Instead I flew to New York to spend a few days with Joe. That’s my boyfriend DiMaggio in case you didn’t know. People say, “What’s she doing with that dullard.” They don’t realise:. I’m the lucky one. What a gentleman he is.
Once I stepped inside Toots Shor’s bar, I couldn’t drag myself out of it. “This is where I want to spend the rest of my life,” I told him.
He said, “If you do, it won’t be a very long one.” A lot of drinking got itself done there – mostly by me.
June 1
My birthday. It arrived with good news. I’m getting a part in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. But do blondes prefer gentlemen? That’s the question. (This one does).
June 2
Shooting Niagara. What a beautiful location. The Falls take my breath away.
It’s being directed by John Huston. Joseph Cotten and Jean Peters are in it with me. Or should I say I’m in it with them? Jean thinks I flaunt myself too much. Is that another way of saying she’s jealous?
The Seven Year Itch
June 5
Today I was photographed at the foot of the Falls in a publicity shot. One of my sedate poses. The “mature” Marilyn. Is that a contradiction in terms?
I didn’t want to be mature. I wanted to rip off all my clothes and throw myself down into the foam.
I read once about a man who crossed the Falls in a barrel. That wouldn’t have been any good to me. I’d have wanted to break out of it. Have always wanted to break out of things. My analyst says it probably started in the womb. Wish I could ask Momma questions like how I was then but she’s beyond that. Maybe she always was beyond it.
Now I have to go back to the movie. Say boring lines as I fantasize about water gurgling all over me, invading me, taking me over so much I can hardly breathe.
Would like a man to do that to me instead. Are you listening, Joe?
June 8
Joseph teases me on the set. Last night he told me they turn off the Falls at the weekend to save energy. Come on, Joe. I may be dumb, but I’m not that dumb.
June 11
I’m stealing most of the scenes from Joseph. He doesn’t like it. The expression on his face is half horror and half disbelief.
“Play it a bit cooler and you’ll last longer in movies,” he said to me.
I said, “I spent too long waiting for this opportunity. It’s time to pull out all the stops.”
Okay, so I’m over-acting, but so is he. The waterfall is giving a better performance than both of us. L’s organize a campaign to get an Oscar for it.
June 16
Clash By Night, my last movie, came out. I got my name over the title even though I only have a small part in it. I’m getting good reviews. Darry F. Zanuck is shocked. He told me I’d never make it. “A moron with less on” he said of me. Well now I have the last laugh. Up yours, Zanuck.
July 3
Don’t Bother to Knock released. You might remember that’s the movie where I played the unhinged babysitter opposite Richard Widmark. Everyone was wondering if I could do a dramatic role instead of the usual dizzy blonde ones. Personally I feel overcooked it. What a nutter. Lock her up quick!
August 7
Am getting fed up playing victims in films. It’s spilling over into my real life – whatever that is. Why is it nobody realizes I’m different than the person who appears on screen? Isn’t that what acting is all about? People come up to me on the street and go, “Marilyn, you poor creature. Those men who treat you like that.”
I play along with them because it saves time. What’s the point of saying, “It’s only a movie”? It would burst their bubble. They go to the cinemas to get away from their problems, not to have them waved in their faces. If I told them how really messed up I was, they’d probably sink into a gloom. And of course, it would be something completely different to what happened in the movie. Poor little rich girl.
September 2
Flew to Atlantic City for the premiere of Monkey Business, another of my recent productions. I’ve been busier than I thought. Did I really make all those movies? Every time one finishes I forget it.
Joe thought my dress was too revealing in it. “I’m not a nun,” I said to him, “This is what they pay me for.” He doesn’t like men looking at my breasts. “If I cover them too much,” I told him, “They look at them more.”
He doesn’t understand that most of sex is in the imagination. Because he doesn’t have an imagination.
September 12
Started work on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, yet another film. Yes I know, I’m gonna burn out soon. But you have to strike while the iron is hot. I spent too many years as a nobody.
Jane Russell is my co-star. So far, she’s getting top billing. I said, “Whoa there. Who’s the blonde in this movie?”
She’s also getting $400,000 to my $11,250. It sounds like gentlemen prefer brunettes. Or bank managers.
September 16
Went to another party. Everyone acted friendly to me but when someone more important than me entered the room they moved away from me. If the person who entered wasn’t important, they kept talking to me.
I knew what was going on. It’s like a grid. They’re all trying to claw their way up the ladder. If my last movie was a hit, I go up a rung. If it wasn’t, I go down one. Or more.
Being a failure in this town is like having leprosy. Nobody wants to be within a ten-mile radius of you. The phone doesn’t ring. You call your agent and get the reply: “Oh, he’s just stepped out. Would you like to call back?”
Actually, no, I wouldn’t.
September 18
People call me a whore because I slept with some men to get ahead. If a man sleeps with a woman to get ahead, or for any other reason, he’s praised for being a stud. That’s how crazy this life – and this business is.
Success isn’t about talent if you’re a woman. We all know that. It’s about what you have to do to get a part. Once you get it, it leads to other ones. At a certain point you can stop sleeping with men you don’t like – if you’re lucky. You can even get married and sleep with someone you love. At least until he starts sleeping with other women. Forgive me for being cynical but I’ve been there too many times.
Sometimes men go to bed with me just to say they did. They don’t get anything out of it and neither do I. I lock my emotions out to prevent myself from being hurt. That’s why they call me a sex maniac.
People look at me as if I’m nothing more than my legs, my breasts. I’m told I have eyes that say, “Come to bed with me.” I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want my eyes to say that. Why can’t I get them to say what I want them to say – “Love me.”
December 15
Getting 5,000 fan letters a week. Imagine trying to answer all of them. Your hand would fall off.
Why am I not able to get over the idea that this is all happening to someone else? Is it because I’ve felt like someone else all my life? Because I never really knew who I was? Or where I came from?
A part of me feels I don’t deserve it even though I’ve worked hard for it. I see chorus girls who work themselves to the bone. There’s a look in their eyes that says, “I know this is as far I’m going to go up the ladder.” They get a few bucks for kicking their heels up and down. Then they’re sent home until the next cattle call. I was them once. Maybe a part of me still is.
Being unfamous, like being poor, stays with you forever. Every morning of my life I wake up fearing being a nobody again. I also fear being ugly. That’s why I don’t want to grow old. Why can’t we age backwards like Benjamin Button? Wouldn’t it be nice to die in your cradle with a doody in your mouth?
The Marilyn Diaries is published by Publisher is Casa Carlini at $18.99. It is available from Amazon
