The Man Who Saw a Ghost: The Life and Work of Henry Fonda by Devin McKinney Page A
Book: The Man Who Saw a Ghost: The Life and Work of Henry Fonda by Devin McKinney
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Authors: Devin McKinney
Tags: Reference, Humor & Entertainment, Biographies, Biographies & Memoirs, Movies, Arts & Literature, Actors & Entertainers, Actors & Actresses
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Morning is wrapped, posted for Hollywood and historical oblivion, and the two depart England for Germany. The Sullavan complication is discreetly tabled; the chaperone is dismissed.
* * *
Whirlwind is the word for their courtship: The gust of Frances’s energy carries Fonda along like a grain of sand. They find themselves in Adolf Hitler’s Berlin for the opening of the Summer Olympics on August 1, but they leave quickly, alarmed by the spectacle of fascist muscle. From there, the lovers travel to Munich, Austria, Budapest (where Fonda proposes), Paris (where Frances accepts), and finally homeward to New York. The news of their engagement travels fast—so fast, we have to wonder who cabled the press agents, and when. As early as August 24, headlines appear in stateside papers: “ THEY’LL BE MARRIED—WIREPHOTO !”
On September 8, a reception, sponsored by a Chrysler heir, is held for the couple at the Waldorf-Astoria. In a letter to Sullavan, posted the following day from the Gotham Hotel, Henry suggests he was less than forthcoming about meeting Frances, let alone their now-public wedding plans. Has he let Peggy discover the fact for herself, in black and white in the New York Times, or, worse, from a gossiping friend? He apologizes to Sullavan for having been such a “blundering fool” in his handling of the matter; his concurrent lovers have barely missed scraping each other’s shoulders in passing. Perhaps he privately enjoys bringing the once-dominant Sullavan up short. It would be a human thing to enjoy, and Henry is nothing if not human.
The wedding, on September 16 at Christ Church on Park Avenue, affords ritual splendor and maximum pomp. The bride wears blue taffeta, the groom a silk hat and swallow-tailed tuxedo. Frances’s maid of honor is her sister, Margery; Josh Logan is Henry’s best man; ushers are Leland Hayward and Frances’s brother, Roger. There are hundreds of guests, enough flowers for a Rose Bowl float, sidewalks lined with fans and photographers. The arches of the Methodist shrine shelter the couple; the streets outside part for them. Henry can only feel dazed as bells chime over his head; it has been just two months since he and Frances were introduced.
* * *
They are so much alike—but in the wrong ways. Each is a stoic, an absorber and hoarder of pain; each is confident that fear and weakness can be bolstered by rigidity. They share behaviors but not dreams, repressions but not freedoms, and their battle will be conducted in a thousand grim silences and gnashings of teeth between two people whose need for control is like anyone else’s need for air.
Frances has gotten Henry to the church on time. If their marriage is a power battle, she has won the first round. But Henry takes the next. The day after they are married, they return to Hollywood so that he may begin shooting his next movie. Frances has been thrust out of her world and into Henry’s, and she will have to adjust to the climate, codes, and facades of a new way of life.
In a typical story, Louella Parsons asks the couple how they met. They giggle like children.
“Mrs. Robert Kane asked me to meet the American leading man who was playing in Bob’s picture,” said Mrs. Fonda who has a very fair skin, big blue eyes and is much prettier than any of her pictures indicate. “I really like motion pictures, so I said, ‘Oh, I’d love to. What’s his name?’ Mrs. Kane replied, ‘Henry Fonda.’”
“Just think, she had never even heard of me!” interrupted Henry with mock chagrin.
It’s a con, on the public and on themselves. Frances’s “I really like motion pictures” is contradicted by other sources, and Fonda admits that he has begun to secede from the union almost immediately.
The marriage will produce some good times and happy results, but Frances and Henry have struck a dark bargain. She will get the worst of it.
* * *
As he constructs a simulacrum of domestic happiness,
* * *
Whirlwind is the word for their courtship: The gust of Frances’s energy carries Fonda along like a grain of sand. They find themselves in Adolf Hitler’s Berlin for the opening of the Summer Olympics on August 1, but they leave quickly, alarmed by the spectacle of fascist muscle. From there, the lovers travel to Munich, Austria, Budapest (where Fonda proposes), Paris (where Frances accepts), and finally homeward to New York. The news of their engagement travels fast—so fast, we have to wonder who cabled the press agents, and when. As early as August 24, headlines appear in stateside papers: “ THEY’LL BE MARRIED—WIREPHOTO !”
On September 8, a reception, sponsored by a Chrysler heir, is held for the couple at the Waldorf-Astoria. In a letter to Sullavan, posted the following day from the Gotham Hotel, Henry suggests he was less than forthcoming about meeting Frances, let alone their now-public wedding plans. Has he let Peggy discover the fact for herself, in black and white in the New York Times, or, worse, from a gossiping friend? He apologizes to Sullavan for having been such a “blundering fool” in his handling of the matter; his concurrent lovers have barely missed scraping each other’s shoulders in passing. Perhaps he privately enjoys bringing the once-dominant Sullavan up short. It would be a human thing to enjoy, and Henry is nothing if not human.
The wedding, on September 16 at Christ Church on Park Avenue, affords ritual splendor and maximum pomp. The bride wears blue taffeta, the groom a silk hat and swallow-tailed tuxedo. Frances’s maid of honor is her sister, Margery; Josh Logan is Henry’s best man; ushers are Leland Hayward and Frances’s brother, Roger. There are hundreds of guests, enough flowers for a Rose Bowl float, sidewalks lined with fans and photographers. The arches of the Methodist shrine shelter the couple; the streets outside part for them. Henry can only feel dazed as bells chime over his head; it has been just two months since he and Frances were introduced.
* * *
They are so much alike—but in the wrong ways. Each is a stoic, an absorber and hoarder of pain; each is confident that fear and weakness can be bolstered by rigidity. They share behaviors but not dreams, repressions but not freedoms, and their battle will be conducted in a thousand grim silences and gnashings of teeth between two people whose need for control is like anyone else’s need for air.
Frances has gotten Henry to the church on time. If their marriage is a power battle, she has won the first round. But Henry takes the next. The day after they are married, they return to Hollywood so that he may begin shooting his next movie. Frances has been thrust out of her world and into Henry’s, and she will have to adjust to the climate, codes, and facades of a new way of life.
In a typical story, Louella Parsons asks the couple how they met. They giggle like children.
“Mrs. Robert Kane asked me to meet the American leading man who was playing in Bob’s picture,” said Mrs. Fonda who has a very fair skin, big blue eyes and is much prettier than any of her pictures indicate. “I really like motion pictures, so I said, ‘Oh, I’d love to. What’s his name?’ Mrs. Kane replied, ‘Henry Fonda.’”
“Just think, she had never even heard of me!” interrupted Henry with mock chagrin.
It’s a con, on the public and on themselves. Frances’s “I really like motion pictures” is contradicted by other sources, and Fonda admits that he has begun to secede from the union almost immediately.
The marriage will produce some good times and happy results, but Frances and Henry have struck a dark bargain. She will get the worst of it.
* * *
As he constructs a simulacrum of domestic happiness,
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