Like other legendary women in history — from Anne Boleyn to Madame du Barry — silent film star Marion Davies enjoyed the perks that came with being the girlfriend of a powerful man.
As the longtime partner of newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst, Davies played hostess and mingled with some of the most fascinating people of the 20th century at his California coastal castle in San Simeon and at his other lavish estates. The one-time Ziegfeld Follies chorine could also count on her boyfriend to generously fund her film projects and rely on his newspapers, including the San Francisco Examiner, to offer favorable publicity.
But there were downsides to her association with the larger-than-life titan of industry, who was 34 years her senior. Unlike Boleyn and du Barry, she didn’t literally lose her head, but it always hurt that Hearst couldn’t marry her, and she lived with the public perception that she lacked talent to be a film star on her own.
A new biography, “Captain of Her Soul” (University of California Press, $35), by Oakland author Lara Gabrielle aims to correct some of those misapprehensions about one of the pioneering artists of America’s burgeoning film industry.
Davies was a gifted, charismatic comedienne who set the template for the later screwball genius of Carole Lombard, Lucille Ball and Carole Burnett. Davies also was a savvy businesswoman who negotiated her own film contracts, invested smartly in California real estate and donated a substantial portion of her wealth to philanthropy. She maintained a loving relationship with Hearst throughout their 32 years together and was known for her generosity to family and close friends.
Above all, Davies saw herself as an independent spirit who made her own choices, including to not push Hearst to divorce his socialite wife Millicent. Gabrielle said the book’s title comes from the last lines of “Invictus,” the poem by William Ernest Henley, because that’s how Davies saw herself.
“About Hearst, Marion said, ‘He always wanted me to be what he wanted me to be because he really did adore me, but I’m the captain of my soul. And therefore what I want to do I want to do myself, regardless of what other people think I should do,’” Gabrielle said in an interview.
One challenge in telling Davies’ story is that her acting work isn’t as well known as other stars of old Hollywood, including Greta Garbo or Norma Shearer who more successfully transitioned to sound films in the late 1920s. For Davies, always self-conscious about a mild stutter, her biggest success came in silent movies, which aren’t as widely available as later film classics.
Another challenge is the specter of Orson Welles’ “Citizen Kane,” the acclaimed film widely understood to be based on Hearst. Through the character of Susan Alexander, Charles Foster Kane’s singer-girlfriend, Welles’ 1941 masterpiece fed the idea that Davies only got film roles because she had a powerful boyfriend.
Gabrielle agreed that some aspects of Kane and Alexander’s relationship draw on elements of the Hearst-Davies romance. Alexander copes with her unhappy, controlling relationship with Kane by constantly playing jigsaw puzzles and drinking too much. Davies also kept lots of puzzles around and abused alcohol to cope with anxiety. But Hearst never built an opera house for her, as Kane did for Alexander, Gabrielle said.
Welles later expressed regret for the damage “Citizen Kane” did to Davies’ reputation. He wrote in 1975 that, unlike Susan Alexander, Davies was “no dim shopgirl.” He also said she was the “precious treasure of (Hearst’s) heart for more than 30 years. Theirs is truly a love story.”
One way Hearst expressed his love was by becoming determined to make Davies “the brightest star in the business,” according to Gabrielle. Hearst was already involved in the nascent moving-picture business, mostly to boost circulation for his newspapers, when he fell in love with Davies in 1917 while watching her first film, “Runaway Romany.”
As Hearst got to know Davies personally, he was captivated by her “earthy humor” and “infectious joy,” a contrast to the high-society pretensions of his wife. But he believed her career would best be served if she appeared as the “angelic, ethereal” ingenue in lavishly costumed historical dramas that he financed.
Davies had other ideas, as did close colleagues, who knew of her gift for physical comedy and mimicry. “She could be laugh-out-loud funny,” Gabrielle said. Despite Hearst’s interference, Davies still managed to appear in films like “The Patsy” and “Show People,” both in 1928, that modernized her image and gave her personality a chance to shine.
But the 1930s brought challenges to the couple. With the advent of sound film, Davies had to work hard to control her stutter on screen. She continued to make movies, but she didn’t appear as relaxed in her sound-film performances, Gabrielle said. Davies also was reaching her mid-30s, the age at which Hollywood starts to lose interest in its female stars. Meanwhile, Hearst suffered catastrophic financial setbacks during the Depression, contributing to Davies’ decision to retire in 1937.
After that, World War II broke out, and Hearst’s health declined. He died in 1951 at age 88. Sadly, Davies was barred from his ornate funeral at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral Church in deference to his wife. Ten years later, Davies succumbed to cancer at age 64.
In sizing up Hearst’s role in Davies’ life and career, Gabrielle said it’s “complicated.” She said, “If we were to ask Marion if Hearst was a help or hindrance to her career, I think she would say that the positives of Hearst outweighed the detriments.”
Davies also stayed in love with Hearst, and he knew she’d never leave him, Gabrielle reported. He kissed Davies good-bye before he slipped into a coma at their Beverly Hills estate. Ultimately, Davies said that a marriage license wouldn’t have changed what was between them. She said, “Does that make love any more potent? No, it doesn’t.”
Like other legendary women in history — from Anne Boleyn to Madame du Barry — silent film star Marion Davies enjoyed the perks that came with being the girlfriend of a powerful man.
As the longtime partner of newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst, Davies played hostess and mingled with some of the most fascinating people of the 20th century at his California coastal castle in San Simeon and at his other lavish estates. The one-time Ziegfeld Follies chorine could also count on her boyfriend to generously fund her film projects and rely on his newspapers, including the San Francisco Examiner, to offer favorable publicity.
But there were downsides to her association with the larger-than-life titan of industry, who was 34 years her senior. Unlike Boleyn and du Barry, she didn’t literally lose her head, but it always hurt that Hearst couldn’t marry her, and she lived with the public perception that she lacked talent to be a film star on her own.
A new biography, “Captain of Her Soul” (University of California Press, $35), by Oakland author Lara Gabrielle aims to correct some of those misapprehensions about one of the pioneering artists of America’s burgeoning film industry.
Davies was a gifted, charismatic comedienne who set the template for the later screwball genius of Carole Lombard, Lucille Ball and Carole Burnett. Davies also was a savvy businesswoman who negotiated her own film contracts, invested smartly in California real estate and donated a substantial portion of her wealth to philanthropy. She maintained a loving relationship with Hearst throughout their 32 years together and was known for her generosity to family and close friends.
Above all, Davies saw herself as an independent spirit who made her own choices, including to not push Hearst to divorce his socialite wife Millicent. Gabrielle said the book’s title comes from the last lines of “Invictus,” the poem by William Ernest Henley, because that’s how Davies saw herself.
“About Hearst, Marion said, ‘He always wanted me to be what he wanted me to be because he really did adore me, but I’m the captain of my soul. And therefore what I want to do I want to do myself, regardless of what other people think I should do,’” Gabrielle said in an interview.
One challenge in telling Davies’ story is that her acting work isn’t as well known as other stars of old Hollywood, including Greta Garbo or Norma Shearer who more successfully transitioned to sound films in the late 1920s. For Davies, always self-conscious about a mild stutter, her biggest success came in silent movies, which aren’t as widely available as later film classics.
Another challenge is the specter of Orson Welles’ “Citizen Kane,” the acclaimed film widely understood to be based on Hearst. Through the character of Susan Alexander, Charles Foster Kane’s singer-girlfriend, Welles’ 1941 masterpiece fed the idea that Davies only got film roles because she had a powerful boyfriend.
Gabrielle agreed that some aspects of Kane and Alexander’s relationship draw on elements of the Hearst-Davies romance. Alexander copes with her unhappy, controlling relationship with Kane by constantly playing jigsaw puzzles and drinking too much. Davies also kept lots of puzzles around and abused alcohol to cope with anxiety. But Hearst never built an opera house for her, as Kane did for Alexander, Gabrielle said.
Welles later expressed regret for the damage “Citizen Kane” did to Davies’ reputation. He wrote in 1975 that, unlike Susan Alexander, Davies was “no dim shopgirl.” He also said she was the “precious treasure of (Hearst’s) heart for more than 30 years. Theirs is truly a love story.”
One way Hearst expressed his love was by becoming determined to make Davies “the brightest star in the business,” according to Gabrielle. Hearst was already involved in the nascent moving-picture business, mostly to boost circulation for his newspapers, when he fell in love with Davies in 1917 while watching her first film, “Runaway Romany.”
As Hearst got to know Davies personally, he was captivated by her “earthy humor” and “infectious joy,” a contrast to the high-society pretensions of his wife. But he believed her career would best be served if she appeared as the “angelic, ethereal” ingenue in lavishly costumed historical dramas that he financed.
Davies had other ideas, as did close colleagues, who knew of her gift for physical comedy and mimicry. “She could be laugh-out-loud funny,” Gabrielle said. Despite Hearst’s interference, Davies still managed to appear in films like “The Patsy” and “Show People,” both in 1928, that modernized her image and gave her personality a chance to shine.
But the 1930s brought challenges to the couple. With the advent of sound film, Davies had to work hard to control her stutter on screen. She continued to make movies, but she didn’t appear as relaxed in her sound-film performances, Gabrielle said. Davies also was reaching her mid-30s, the age at which Hollywood starts to lose interest in its female stars. Meanwhile, Hearst suffered catastrophic financial setbacks during the Depression, contributing to Davies’ decision to retire in 1937.
After that, World War II broke out, and Hearst’s health declined. He died in 1951 at age 88. Sadly, Davies was barred from his ornate funeral at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral Church in deference to his wife. Ten years later, Davies succumbed to cancer at age 64.
In sizing up Hearst’s role in Davies’ life and career, Gabrielle said it’s “complicated.” She said, “If we were to ask Marion if Hearst was a help or hindrance to her career, I think she would say that the positives of Hearst outweighed the detriments.”
Davies also stayed in love with Hearst, and he knew she’d never leave him, Gabrielle reported. He kissed Davies good-bye before he slipped into a coma at their Beverly Hills estate. Ultimately, Davies said that a marriage license wouldn’t have changed what was between them. She said, “Does that make love any more potent? No, it doesn’t.”