![\"MaryCharlotteDivas\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/lainigiles.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/11\/marycharlottedivas.png?ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/p>\nThat would be “America’s Sweetheart,” the silent movie queen, and her mother, intent on managing the lives of her other two children based on what’s best for Mary’s career. Newly rich, the Pickford ladies look down their noses at their opponent, originally a workman’s daughter from Charleroi, Pennsylvania.<\/p>\n
In the opposing corner, weighing in at a respectable 115 pounds, we have the challenger, showgirl Olive Thomas. Recently departed from the Ziegfeld Follies, and a newcomer to Hollywood, Ollie is intent on marrying Mary’s brother (and Charlotte’s son), Jack. But it may not be as easy as she hopes. After all, by Pickford standards, only LOOSE women become artists’ models and join the Follies or the Midnight Frolic.<\/p>\n
********************************************************** \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As we neared the house, I clutched the present in my lap. It was all wrapped up in festive paper, and I fidgeted, playing with the bow. Jack reached over and patted my hand, reassuring me. ************************************************************************<\/p>\n Lottie. A true romantic, and apparently, a good referee.<\/p>\n The above is taken from my (hopefully soon to be published!) novel The Forgotten Flapper<\/em>. Thanks to Lara Gabrielle at Backlots for hosting the blogathon! Other entries can be found here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n
Mary and Owen\u2019s Home, Los Angeles \u2013 June 9, 1917<\/em><\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll adore it. Don\u2019t worry, darling.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m just nervous, that\u2019s all.\u201d Remembering what Owen had told me about these women, I\u2019d have been nuts not to be.
I\u2019d chosen my most demure dress, a deep navy in a simple style with matching kid shoes, and I\u2019d worn my hair up to seem more ladylike.
\u201cYou\u2019ll love Lottie,\u201d Jack said, speaking of the birthday girl, whose party it was. \u201cShe\u2019s the fun one. We call her Chuckie.\u201d
\u201cWhy Chuckie?\u201d
\u201cIt was our dad\u2019s idea. Her real name is Charlotte, like our mother. But when she was born, my father thought she was a boy.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 They were going to name her Charles, but\u2026\u201d
\u201cOh, I get it. Chuckie.\u201d
We were let in by a colored maid, whom Jack introduced as Nina. I could hear the guests in the living room, so we crowded in. Jack stopped to speak to some of the party-goers, and as he did, Owen handed us both a drink. He was soused.
\u201cHow are you, Ollie?\u201d
\u201cNervous. How are you?\u201d
\u201cDesperately needing another of these. Good luck with the dragon ladies.\u201d
\u201cJesus, he looks like shit,\u201d Jack said, as Owen moved off into the crowd.
The living room was elegant, but nothing at all like I\u2019d imagined for a movie star. I was surprised that such a wealthy woman lived so frugally. I saw Mary and her famous blonde curls in a sitting room, speaking to a petite, pretty lady with silky chestnut hair wrapped in a tidy chignon. There were fewer people in here, but the same no-nonsense d\u00e9cor.
They both waved, and the brunette gave a big smile. Mary\u2019s face lit up when she saw her brother, then stopped when it got to me. Her eyes, usually wide and blue, full of charm and spunk in her films, were now blank. She wore a dress that would have cost me a year\u2019s salary- a blue tricotine number with black soutache embroidery at the cuffs and hem.
We approached them, and Jack introduced me.
\u201cMary, Frances, this is my sweetheart, Olive Thomas.\u201d
I shyly took each of their hands in turn.
\u201cNice to meet you,\u201d I said.
\u201cHello, Olive,\u201d the other woman said. \u201cI\u2019m Frances Marion, and I\u2019m a scenarist. It\u2019s nice to meet the most beautiful girl in New York.\u201d She winked, and I laughed.
\u201cYour reputation precedes you, darling,\u201d Jack said.
\u201cIt does, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d Mary said, taking my hand, but touching it as little as she could, like it was a rotten egg.
\u201cI love your films, Mary. Ever since I first saw Willful Peggy,\u201d I said.
\u201cThank you,\u201d she said. The smile didn\u2019t reach her eyes.
\u201cIs Jack here?\u201d I heard a smoky voice say.
A woman broke from the crowd, gathering him in an affectionate hug, and smothering his face with playful kisses.
\u201cChuckie!\u201d he yelled.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYou must be Olive!\u201d she said, reaching out a hand. \u201cI\u2019m Lottie!\u201d She was darker than her sister, and her large dramatic eyes were her most attractive feature. She wore a deep burgundy dress with a mink collar and shoes of the same color. The aroma of Caswell Massey\u2019s #6 and Murad cigarettes clung to her like a coat.
\u201cThis is for you,\u201d I said.
She took the gift I handed her, giving me a sideways hug.
\u201cThis is so sweet of you!\u201d she said, ripping at the red bow on top.
When she got to the box inside, she squealed. I\u2019d splurged on a diamond bracelet in a bid for her to like me. She gave me another hug as she set the box on the bar.
\u201cThis is one of my favorite presents ever!\u201d she said, fastening it around her wrist.
Right then, a little girl of about two or three crept out from behind Lottie, her face dwarfed by a pair of the same eyes as her mother.
\u201cThis is my daughter, Mary,\u201d Lottie said, with her hands on the girl\u2019s shoulders. I knelt down to be at the same level and smiled at her, opening my arms to see if she responded. When she scampered over, I was overjoyed.
\u201cHow sweetly she toddles! Do you talk yet, sweetheart?\u201d
\u201cOnly when she feels like it,\u201d Lottie said.
\u201cDat?\u201d the little girl asked, pointing at Lottie\u2019s glass.
\u201cThis is mommy\u2019s drink, darling. Can you say Scotch?\u201d
Lottie kneeled down and let her sniff it. Little Mary made a face.
\u201cShe obviously doesn\u2019t take after my side of the family at all!\u201d Lottie said with a guffaw. Then she downed her drink and poured another.
At that moment, the temperature in the room dropped. An older woman marched toward us. She wore a dark dress, of the style favored by withered matrons, and her gray hair was pulled into a severe bun. No one had ever stared at me so critically in my life. Anyone would have sworn she\u2019d just stepped in dog shit.
\u201cMother, this is Olive,\u201d Jack said. \u201cOllie, this is my mother, Charlotte Pickford.\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s very nice to meet you,\u201d I said, smiling.
\u201cCharmed,\u201d Mrs. Pickford said, holding her hand out for me to shake, but her glacial demeanor did not thaw one bit. Her face remained frozen and unreadable.
\u201cMother, see the gorgeous bracelet Olive bought for me?\u201d Lottie shook her arm so it gave a little tinkle.
\u201cIt\u2019s lovely,\u201d said the iceberg. \u201cBut obviously very pricey. How does one pay for such a costly piece of jewelry?\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m an actress,\u201d I said
\u201cI have it on good authority that your contract at Triangle pays you a pittance, Miss Thomas. So once more I ask myself what you had to do to pay for a gift like that.\u201d
\u201cExcuse me?\u201d I said, almost snorting Scotch out my nose. \u201cWhat are you saying, Mrs. Pickford?\u201d
Sensing a change in the mood, Frances looked out into the living room.
\u201cOh, there\u2019s Owen. And I haven\u2019t said hello yet. Please excuse me. Olive, it was lovely to meet you.\u201d I smiled back at her as she moved into the living room, but inside I was seething.
\u201cJesus Christ,\u201d I heard Lottie mutter. She slipped behind the bar and poured herself another Scotch, then opened a jet cigarette case and lit one. Jack joined her and poured himself one too.
\u201cAs warm as ever, mother,\u201d Jack said, using the flame from Lottie\u2019s cigarette to light his own. \u201cNo \u2018welcome to our home\u2019 or \u2018thank you for Lottie\u2019s beautiful gift.\u2019 You leap right in and call my sweetheart a tramp.\u201d He crossed to a couch and sat down.
\u201cI did no such thing.\u201d
Just as I thought they were ready to pull on boxing gloves, Mary entered the fray.
\u201cYes, how did you pay for it? I didn\u2019t think the Follies paid that well, unless you count the fringe benefits, of course.\u201d
\u201cI saved my money.\u201d It was true, for once. I\u2019d put some money in savings. And spent it almost immediately.
Between Mary and Charlotte, I had never felt such coldness. I\u2019d always been able to charm almost anyone, but these two were a brick wall. So that was how they wanted it. Fine, I could play along. If I could deal with a professional bitch like Kay, I could handle \u2018America\u2019s Sweetheart.\u2019 And her mother too.
She\u2019s like buttermilk, I thought. Bright and sunny on the outside, but sour once you\u2019ve had a taste.
Instead of sitting in the chair that she gestured to, I plopped down next to Jack on the couch, where he was already relaxing.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then I defiantly took his hand and downed the rest of my scotch, setting it down on the table without a coaster, reveling in the determined clonk it made. The hard stare I received in return told me everything I needed to know. War had been declared.
Little Mary followed me and leaned on the friendly lap she had just encountered.
\u201cI see you\u2019ve met Little Mary,\u201d the elder Mary said.
\u201cYes,\u201d Lottie said, \u201cShe\u2019s quite taken with Olive.\u201d
\u201cAs is our Jack,\u201d Mary answered, glaring at her brother as if to say \u201cYou idiot. How could you do this to the family?\u201d
\u201cSo you were in the Follies.\u201d Charlotte said.
\u201cYes ma\u2019am,\u201d I said, wary of what would come next.
\u201cAnd the Frolic too?\u201d
\u201cYes.\u201d
\u201cYou took your clothes off for money, then.\u201d
\u201cNow see here, mother\u2026\u201d Jack began.
\u201cIt\u2019s true, isn\u2019t it?\u201d protested Mrs. Pickford.
It didn\u2019t matter what I said. I\u2019d be damned if they\u2019d condemn me like this. I was no whore, and I was ready to come out swinging on the old hag.
\u201cMrs. Pickford, Jack has told me that he grew up poor when your husband died. Do you know the same thing happened to my mother? My father died of pneumonia when I was five. I watched him die.\u201d I narrowed my eyes to let her know I would not be cowed. Then I continued.
\u201cShe also had three children to raise\u2014my two brothers and me. And like you, she struggled. For weeks and weeks we lived on nothing but cabbage soup. But she managed to get food on the table. When I went to New York and became a model and joined the Follies, it was the most money I\u2019d ever seen in my life. And I was able to help her, just like Mary was able to help all of you. I\u2019ve sent Mamma money and household gifts, and pretty things that she likes because I know how hard she worked to raise me. She\u2019s never judged me for what I do, and neither has Jack. I\u2019m perfectly happy with my life. I met some nice people at the Follies, and I loved working there. Anything else you\u2019d like to ask me?\u201d
From her reaction, I could tell that no one else had ever spoken to Charlotte Pickford that way in her life. She squinted at me.
\u201cRespectable women do not take their clothes off for money, no matter how hungry they are. My son cannot marry a harlot who has been an artist\u2019s model. Everyone knows showgirls are loose. Billie Burke is a lovely woman. You had a lot of nerve trying to steal her husband.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s very nice of you to give me the benefit of the doubt, Mrs. Pickford.\u201d I tried not to roll my eyes. \u201cFor your information, Mr. Ziegfeld initiated our affair. He invited me to his apartment, and took me to Long Island for rides on his yacht. But first, he introduced me to fellatio. I\u2019m sure you wouldn\u2019t have heard of it. It\u2019s an unusual practice, where a woman uses her mouth on a man\u2019s\u2026\u201d
\u201cStop! I do not want to hear this. Lottie, send little Mary to her room.\u201d
\u201cNo? The truth not fitting with your judgements of me? Even though he was the one who began the affair? Come now, Mrs. Pickford. I was a showgirl, and I was paid to dance, nothing more. Ziegfeld was crazy about me. I wanted to be legitimate, and I told him that for things to continue, I wanted the sanctity of marriage. He wouldn\u2019t give me that.\u201d
\u201cHe had a wife and a child!\u201d
\u201cHe didn\u2019t have the child yet, ma\u2019am. Only the wife. And Mr. Ziegfeld told me sob stories of their life together, and how miserable he was. Any man that dedicated to his wife does not tell his mistress how desperately he wants to leave that wife. Does he?\u201d
She had no answer.
\u201cAt one point, he returned home, and that was when she became pregnant. He had already left her for me. Then he went back to her. So in reality, I am the one who was wronged.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s all ancient history,\u201d Jack interrupted. \u201cWe want your blessing to marry, mother. And we\u2019d like it soon, so we can arrange things when we get to New York.\u201d
Charlotte was obviously horrified.
\u201cAbsolutely not. This woman is the most common tramp imaginable, and I will not allow it.\u201d
\u201cHow dare you,\u201d I said, between gritted teeth.
Jack patted my hand to get me to calm down.
\u201cWhy the hurry?\u201d Mary said. \u201cSomething you\u2019re trying to keep secret?\u201d She glanced pointedly at my middle. The nerve of her! Suggesting he\u2019d knocked me up. She didn\u2019t have anything more original in her arsenal?
\u201cI could have asked the same of you and Owen,\u201d Jack said, casually blowing a smoke ring.
Mary paled. Owen had told me they\u2019d run away to Jersey City. Everyone knew that she was seeing Douglas Fairbanks now, but was keeping it very hush-hush. The only reason they hadn\u2019t divorced their respective spouses was that Mary was terrified bad press would end both their careers. I saw red when I thought of a hypocrite like her standing in judgment over me. And since Owen was a friend of mine, it made me twice as angry.
\u201cYou are not good enough for my son,\u201d Charlotte announced.
\u201cOh, mother, please…\u201d Lottie said, lighting another cigarette.
\u201cI love your son and I want to make him happy,\u201d I said.
\u201cNo. I forbid it. Your behavior reflects badly on this family, and Mary\u2019s career will not be damaged due to your shoddy morals. You are trying to use the Pickford name to further your career in Hollywood, and that is not going to happen. You can step off our coat tails right this instant.\u201d
\u201cAre you kidding? I\u2019m one of the most well-known faces in New York. I don\u2019t need the Pickford name to build a career.\u201d
\u201cNevertheless, I refuse to sanction this marriage.\u201d
Lottie rolled her eyes. \u201cSo she was a model and a showgirl. She\u2019s one of the most beautiful women I\u2019ve ever seen, mother. Imagine how adorable their children will be. Think how those lovely grandchildren will reflect on you. Now do me a favor. Look at your son.\u201d
Charlotte reluctantly glanced over at Jack.
\u201cIf you weren\u2019t such an old prune, intent on managing Mary\u2019s career at the expense of everything else in all of our lives, you\u2019d see how in love with her he is.\u201d
Jack\u2019s gaze was a silent plea.
\u201cI only dream of having someone love me like that. Alf sure didn\u2019t. Why do you think we\u2019re divorced now?\u201d
Charlotte and Mary both sat silent, digesting what she\u2019d said.
\u201cIf you value your relationship with your son, you\u2019ll let him marry her. He\u2019s not Mary. He\u2019s a grown man, able to make his own decisions. And it\u2019s obvious that he loves Olive. He loves you too, or he wouldn\u2019t have asked for your blessing. For God\u2019s sake, let him do what he wants. Love\u2019s all we can really hope for in life anyway.\u201d She gulped the rest of her drink.
The room was quiet for a moment, as if everyone were afraid to speak.
\u201cWhen?\u201d Mary said.
\u201cWe were thinking just after the New Year,\u201d said Jack. \u201cAll Ollie\u2019s friends are in New York.\u201d
At last, Mary acknowledged us.
\u201cFine,\u201d she said. Then she sighed. A momentary cease-fire had been declared.<\/p>\n