Reality can be stranger than fiction
The last untold story in the life of Marilyn Monroe. Selected excerpts from André de Dienes's memoirs
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I went to her bungalow at the Bel Air Hotel in Stone Canyon, an exclusive, beautiful place in a secluded canyon west of Beverly Hills. We started photographing about ten in the morning. Marilyn looked extremely lovely. She was in the happiest mood I had ever seen her. Then the phone rang.
I rushed to it and asked Marilyn not to touch it. We were going to take photographs all day and didn't want to be disturbed by anybody. I took many photos of her all morning and the phone kept ringing but she did not answer. She was extremely cooperative and greatly stimulated. I had a delightful time photographing her and it was a rather unusual experience for me and for her, too, I guess, because she knew she was a great movie star and no longer my little Norma Jeane, not a girl whom I almost married! Yet we felt excessively comfortable with each other. She knew I respected and admired her and she had complete faith in my photography. No matter how I wished to pose her, she obeyed and all the pictures we took were delightful. There was absolutely no nervousness for any reason whatsoever. Only the phone's ringing bugged me, but I ordered her not to touch it!
I took pictures of her inside the bungalow and out in the patio, and by late afternoon she was taking a bubble bath. Afterward I began photographing her with a towel at the fireplace. She was in a bewitching mood! She had nothing on under the white towel, and mischievously she was opening and closing the towel, letting me see her nude for a split second, as if signaling to me that this was the occasion for me to photograph her nude-if I wanted to. These photos at the fireplace were to be the last photos of the day and we were planning to go out afterward to the most fancy restaurant, the most expensive place in Hollywood-Chasens. Marilyn began insisting that she pay for dinner and for once I should let her be the boss! I told her we'd flip a coin. The phone rang again and rang and rang, and finally Marilyn picked it up. She kept listening and listening and gradually her expression turned frightened, practically horrified. She said something like, "Yes, I will, I will," and hung up the receiver. The change in her mood was incredible. She was staggering away from the phone like someone who is ill, dizzy, ready to faint. She sat in an armchair; she looked sick and she could hardly talk. I asked her what was wrong and she said she couldn't tell me. She said I had to leave her alone as she had to go to the studio at once to explain something. Even in those moments of distress she was so nice to me, she said I ought to order drinks for myself, and dinner, and charge it to her. I felt sad for her, and confused. I packed my equipment and left.
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]
I went to her bungalow at the Bel Air Hotel in Stone Canyon, an exclusive, beautiful place in a secluded canyon west of Beverly Hills. We started photographing about ten in the morning. Marilyn looked extremely lovely. She was in the happiest mood I had ever seen her. Then the phone rang.
I rushed to it and asked Marilyn not to touch it. We were going to take photographs all day and didn't want to be disturbed by anybody. I took many photos of her all morning and the phone kept ringing but she did not answer. She was extremely cooperative and greatly stimulated. I had a delightful time photographing her and it was a rather unusual experience for me and for her, too, I guess, because she knew she was a great movie star and no longer my little Norma Jeane, not a girl whom I almost married! Yet we felt excessively comfortable with each other. She knew I respected and admired her and she had complete faith in my photography. No matter how I wished to pose her, she obeyed and all the pictures we took were delightful. There was absolutely no nervousness for any reason whatsoever. Only the phone's ringing bugged me, but I ordered her not to touch it!
I took pictures of her inside the bungalow and out in the patio, and by late afternoon she was taking a bubble bath. Afterward I began photographing her with a towel at the fireplace. She was in a bewitching mood! She had nothing on under the white towel, and mischievously she was opening and closing the towel, letting me see her nude for a split second, as if signaling to me that this was the occasion for me to photograph her nude-if I wanted to. These photos at the fireplace were to be the last photos of the day and we were planning to go out afterward to the most fancy restaurant, the most expensive place in Hollywood-Chasens. Marilyn began insisting that she pay for dinner and for once I should let her be the boss! I told her we'd flip a coin. The phone rang again and rang and rang, and finally Marilyn picked it up. She kept listening and listening and gradually her expression turned frightened, practically horrified. She said something like, "Yes, I will, I will," and hung up the receiver. The change in her mood was incredible. She was staggering away from the phone like someone who is ill, dizzy, ready to faint. She sat in an armchair; she looked sick and she could hardly talk. I asked her what was wrong and she said she couldn't tell me. She said I had to leave her alone as she had to go to the studio at once to explain something. Even in those moments of distress she was so nice to me, she said I ought to order drinks for myself, and dinner, and charge it to her. I felt sad for her, and confused. I packed my equipment and left.
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]
Photo: André de Dienes