Jerris Tony - Marilyn Monroe: My Little Secret

All rights reserved.

Published by Tony Jerris and ZIM Entertainment, LLC

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jerris, Tony

Marilyn Monroe: My Little Secret/by Tony Jerris

Summary: Details the friendship and relationship between Jane Lawrence and Marilyn Monroe from the time Ms. Lawrence began running the official M. Monroe fan club until Ms. Monroes untimely death.

Book copyright 2010 by Tony Jerris

Jacket Cover Photograph copyright 2010 by Tony Jerris

Jacket Back Photograph copyright 2010 by Tony Jerris

Cover design: Sheldon Holland

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All rights reserved. This book, related transcripts and the photographs may not be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in part, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written permission of both the author and ZIM Entertainment, LLC.

ISBN-10: 1475101406

ISBN-13: 9781475101409

eBook ISBN: 978-1-62110-635-7

For my friend, Jane Lawrence

C ONTENTS

One of the biggest challenges I faced when writing Marilyn Monroe: My Little Secret was to never second guess myself as I delved into the life of probably the most celebrated of all actresses. But Im only human and, at times, feared how some people might react to this book, especially the diehard Marilyn fans.

I conquered that fear thanks to the support of several people who believed in me, particularly my mother, Ann, who always has been and forever will be my biggest fan.

Special thanks to Corinne Aquilina and David Elliott, who, throughout my journey of writing the book, inspired me to complete it.

My respect and thanks also to David Zimmermann, Timothy Garritty, Matthew Hansen, Jennifer Fischer, Mary Cosola, actress Polly Bergen, Brian Anderson at RKO Pictures, the Twentieth Century Fox archive department, and the rest of my family members and friends.

And finally, thank you, Jane, for trusting me to tell your story.

W hen I met Jane Lawrence, it was to assess her collection of Marilyn Monroe memorabilia and help her get it on eBay. I had a fascination with all things Hollywood, being a guy from New York who chose to live here. Plus, I was a sucker for all things Marilyn. In the first few weeks of our relationship we spent a lot of time sifting through various items, with me guessing what they might go for. Jane had what Sothebys or Christies would characterize as a collection because it was so extensive. Some of the stuff, through years of neglect, wasnt in the best of shape, jammed into boxes or what-have-you, but some of Janes items were pristine and, perhaps, priceless. She also had the most bizarre collection of little odds and ends of Marilyn discards: tissues, napkins (with lipstick and not), notes, matchbooks, and other such dreck that had real value because of the provenance.

And as we took our journey through this detritus of memory, I was treated to all of the stories that went with it. Memory can be cruel, but for Jane her recall was spot on, and as her story poured forth, told in personal snippets of moments, events, and encounters, I began to visualize her story in a bigger context. I truly felt she had a story to tell and, as time wore on, she would drop hints that she felt that too.

The day we really bonded was in the midst of tragedy. It was about two months after wed met. I was rousing one morning, trying to pull myself out of bed to get to work at the boiler room. Technically, my employers referred to their company as a telemarketing firm and their employees as telemarketers, but it was a boiler room and I was a guy hawking cigarette lighters and condoms to gas stations and convenience stores all over the country like the other struggling artists who worked there.

The phone rang. When I picked it up, Jane shrieked into the phone, Tony! Oh my God, turn on the TV, theyre bombing your town! Theyre bombing New York!

Who? Whos bombing New York? I asked, instantly awake.

I dont know! Turn on your TV!

I did and watched the beginning of one of our countrys worst days on that morning of September 11, 2001. Like everyone, I was glued in numb silence to the TV, watching as the towers cascaded to the ground. Jane and I probably spoke at least a dozen times that day as new developments occurred. Some of our calls were just us reaching out to each other as we struggled to comprehend the horror of what we were seeing.

I would discover that Jane had few friends and lived a guarded life. She had learned that in Hollywood many people will befriend you for what they think they can get from you or what you can do for them. Theres a real cynicism that informs many relationships in this town. Jane knew that all too well, and while she knew a lot of people, they were mostly just acquaintances and not true friends you could confide in or lean on when things got tough.

Jane knew people in her building, from the manager to her neighbors, but they were all older like Jane and sort of withdrawn. They were the kind of people who would talk to you through the screen door, often with a glass of wine in hand at eleven fifteen in the morning. She also knew regulars and staff at Jans Restaurant on Beverly, her favorite comfort food hang-out. But again, Jane understood they were people she could say Hi to, but not Wow, things are bad, wanna hear about it?

Jane had devolved into this cloistered existence, popping out of her lair at feeding times like a trap door spider, then retreating to the dark and the comfort of her TV. The precocious little Jewish princess from Beverly Hills, who had palled around with Marilyn Monroe and knew the biggest movie stars the way you and I know friends on the block, was now a physically broken, overweight, rapidly-aging woman living two blocks off the Sunset Strip in a cramped apartment with her cats, or as she referred to them my girls. She was lonely, very lonely.

It was here that she and I began to cement our friendship. At first we were both looking to fill a financial need: she to sell things to get medical help, and me to hopefully make a little extra cash by helping someone with such a project. But as her stories flowed, and my true and honest attention became a comfort to her, we found we needed each other. She had a story she had been dying to tell for four decades, and I was someone who ate up all things Hollywood.

Of all of the people Id met in Hollywood, and for that matter anywhere, Jane, it turned out, was one of the kindest, most open and honest Id known. She didnt have a mean bone in her body and would literally give a friend in need the shirt off her back. I came to love that genuine sweetness and absence of some dark agenda you only discover years after you think you know someone. With Jane, what you saw was what you got, and in Hollywood, that was like gold to me. I soon realized that Jane, with or without her connection to Marilyn or her mounds of memorabilia, was a treasure in her own right. I also began to see what Marilyn saw in her fifty years earlier.

Jane loved the fact Id not only heard of most of the stars she would mention, but I had a pretty deep knowledge of their careers and why they were important. She was also impressed that I knew so much about Marilyn. I do have a sort of encyclopedic catalog in my head when it comes to entertainment trivia, and in me she found a willing and deeply appreciative audience. Ive always had a special place in my heart for Marilyn, so we both felt this was the universe handing us something significant.

Soon, the shuffling of dog-eared pictures and Marilyn mementos for our eBay assault took a back seat to the stories. The stories gushed out like wine at an Italian wedding. As we came to know and trust each other, she trusting my motives and sincerity and I trusting that what she was telling me was the Gods honest truth, I hatched a plan. As the weeks passed I began to formulate my pitch.