Jew Eat Yet?

Fat Jokes Aren't Funny

I’m sure some of you heard about the flap last week between actress Kirstie Alley and comedian and talk show host George Lopez. Kirstie is appearing on the current season of the TV show “Dancing with the Stars” and by all accounts has done quite well in her first few outings. Alley has a long and very public history of struggling with her weight. She appeared in two reality shows about her attempts to drop some pounds, has been a spokesperson for several weight-loss products, and went on Oprah following one successful diet to show off her new “bikini body.” The woman has a lot of guts and is quite a hoot.

Last week, following her first routine on “Dancing with the Stars,” George Lopez showed a clip of Kirstie dancing and said “She did a nice job—her little hooves tapping away.” Then, in case his joke wasn’t clear enough, he added, “Before the show, she went to the market, and then she had some roast beef.” Lopez’s video switched to an actual pig squealing while the host remarked, “and this is her going aaaaaall the way home.” Setting aside any attempts at human decency, in what universe is any part of this joke funny? Possibly the one that is populated by 12-year-old schoolyard bullies?

Following a social media firestorm, mostly against George Lopez (himself no underwear model, by the way), the talk show host sort of apologized, saying that his joke was “misjudged.” What does that mean? That he’s sorry he made it because he didn’t realize that being a total asshole would hurt his own popularity? As Kirstie said herself via Twitter later that day, “Misjudged the joke? Is that like a husband saying to a wife, ‘I misjudged putting my dick in that whore?’” Alley then tweeted that she didn’t want or need George’s apology, she just wanted his kidney, a reference to the kidney Lopez’s wife donated to him several years ago followed by Lopez dumping her. After a few more days of Twitter volleys, Lopez (or his publicist) sent Kirstie a big bouquet of flowers and the “pig wars” came to an end, with Alley saying she accepted his apology. Oy.

I don’t watch “Dancing with the Stars” but after reading about this exchange I was curious to see Kirstie Alley’s number. When I searched for it on YouTube, I was shocked to find a clip of Conan O'Brien joining the fray. Et tu, Conan? I’ve never watched George Lopez but I always thought O’Brien was as funny as they come. But besides being cruel, I found Conan’s comments about the "poor suffering floor" at “Dancing with the Stars” (because of Kirstie Alley’s weight) terribly unfunny. Maybe he didn’t write the bad joke, but the Conan I thought I knew would have said to his writers, “No, I’m not reading that! It’s mean and not funny.” Because of my brother-in-law’s band, I’ve attended tapings of the Tonight Show during the runs of both Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien. The reason Charlie and I were solid members of Team Coco last year was precisely because I thought Jay Leno was so mean-spirited in his monologues. I truly believed Conan was above such humor and, as stupid as it sounds, I felt betrayed when I watched that clip. I almost never watch talk shows these days but I was recently thinking that I needed to find and record O’Brien’s new show to see what he’s up to. Um…no thanks.

Do I sound dangerously humorless here? I don’t mean to adopt a holier-than-thou attitude and believe me, I’ve laughed at many an obnoxious joke in my lifetime (I love Don Rickles!), but I’m just flabbergasted that in 2011 it’s still okay for respected, mainstream comedians to spew such unbridled venom at overweight women. On top of everything else, don’t they realize that this is probably the demographic that makes up the majority of their audiences? I don’t care what a good sport Kirstie Alley is, there’s not a human on the planet who wouldn’t bristle at being publicly compared to a pig after being brave enough to put herself out there for all to see and judge. Jokes like this are the reason why so many women develop eating disorders, why so many women lock themselves away from public view.

When Elizabeth Taylor died last week, I couldn’t help but remember that period years ago when the actress first gained a lot of weight and comedian Joan Rivers relentlessly made fun of her. I think the barbs are especially cruel for women like Taylor and Kirstie Alley who were once famous for their beauty and gorgeous figures. How dare they gain weight and make us look at them! Oh, the horror! How dare they not be 23 and slim anymore—how could they DO that to us! No matter that WE are no longer 23 and slim! I remember wincing at Joan Rivers’ Liz Taylor jokes but, to be honest, I probably laughed at some of them because of Rivers’ expert delivery. Still, looking at some of these pearls today, they’re really not very funny. Most of them have joined the pantheon of cliché fat jokes:

• Elizabeth Taylor has more chins than a Chinese phone book.

• I take her to McDonalds just to see her eat and watch the numbers change!

• Elizabeth Taylor pierced her ears and gravy ran out.

• She's so fat she stands in front of her microwave oven and yells, HURRY!

After Taylor lost a lot of weight, Rivers tried to defend her attacks by saying that it was because of her jokes that Elizabeth cleaned up her act and got skinny again. She wanted Elizabeth Taylor to thank her for the fat jokes. Oy, Joan. No matter how mean Joan Rivers was, though, the fact that she herself was a self-deprecating woman, making fun of her own appearance, made her barbs seem less vicious than the ones that come from men who act as if the extra pounds are a direct personal affront to them—that they should be able to go through their lives gazing only at size zero supermodels. Anything else deserves to be condemned and ridiculed.

It’s quite clear that many of the most lauded beauties in movie history would be considered obese by today’s standards and probably the butt of late-night talk show hosts’ jokes: Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Sophia Loren, Jane Russell, Ava Gardner, Brigitte Bardot, and so on. These incredibly sexy woman had some meat on their bones, to be sure, but lucky for them, the definition of beauty during their reigns did not include women who starved themselves to look like concentration camp survivors.

I don’t mean to be adopting a pro-fat or anti-fat stance here. Obviously, people who are morbidly obese would live longer and have much healthier lives if they lost some weight. But the cruelty in most of the jokes about fat women today has nothing to do with health. Indeed, some of the women who are held up as “perfect 10s” by these late-night bozos are probably so underweight that they’ve stopped having their period and are losing their hair.

Why can't we just accept Kirstie Alley for who she is and celebrate the fact that while she may have some additional weight she’d like to get rid of, she feels good enough about herself to put on a sexy gown and dance her ass off? I think the 60-year-old actress is a role model for many. And frankly, I’d like to see George, Conan, or Jay try the following number on live TV. I hereby delare myself a solid member of Team Kirstie.

Elizabeth Taylor: What a Dame!

Elizabeth Taylor had so many brushes with death during her life that by now I practically thought she was immortal. I was sad to wake up to discover that the brilliant actress and ultimate Movie Star died this morning at the age of 79 of congestive heart failure. She was surrounded by her four children.

So much has been written about her eight marriages, the famous Hollywood scandals in which she was a key player, her struggles with her weight, her friendship with Michael Jackson, her passion for jewelry, and other aspects of her life during the past 30 years that I worry some people may have forgotten what a magnificent actress Elizabeth Taylor was.

One of Taylor’s biggest legacies will undoubtedly be her tireless work as an AIDS activist and fundraiser. She was the first celebrity who was willing to fight the disease head-on and she had an enormous impact on the world’s acceptance and understanding of the crisis.

The only time I saw Elizabeth Taylor in the flesh was in her Broadway debut in the 1981 revival of Lillian Hellmann’s “The Little Foxes.” Taylor played matriarch Regina Giddens, the role Tallulah Bankhead originated on stage in 1939 and Bette Davis played in the 1941 film. Though the play got mixed reviews at the time, I loved Elizabeth's portrayal of the tough-as-nails Regina who tried to claw her way out of the traps of early 20th century life when only sons were considered legal heirs. I remember the shocking end of Act 1 when Regina’s husband Horace suffers a heart attack, just after telling her that he planned to cut her out of his will. Instead of running to get his heart medication or calling for help, Regina just stands there, frozen in place. I will never forget Taylor’s delivery of that chilling line just before the curtain comes down on the first half of the play. “I hope you DIE!”

I ask you, was there ever an actress more beautiful than Elizabeth Taylor? It’s hard to imagine, although Taylor herself declared that her friend Ava Gardner was the greatest beauty in Hollywood. Taylor started acting as a child, of course, and seemed to have completely bypassed the awkward stage many attractive child stars go through on their way to adulthood. Elizabeth Taylor was literally breath-taking—I still find myself gasping audibly when I see her in some of her films.

Growing up in the studio system, Taylor was often frustrated by the parts she was given. She made her share of lousy movies (although she was always fascinating to watch) and yet still managed to appear in some of the greatest films ever to come out of Hollywood. Taylor won two Best Actress Oscars, first for the so-so “Butterfield 8” in 1960 (many thought it was a make-up prize for being passed over the previous two years for “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” and “Suddenly Last Summer”) and again in 1966 for her gut-wrenching portrayal of Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.”

Elizabeth Taylor gave so many memorable performances, from her career-boosting turn as Velvet Brown in “National Velvet” to her series of historical epics to the 11 films she made with two-time husband Richard Burton that showcased the couple’s sizzling chemistry. I have a strong memory of a 1970 episode of “Here’s Lucy” with Taylor and Burton in which Lucy gets Elizabeth’s famous diamond ring stuck on her finger. Hard to believe that the actress was only in her 30s when that episode was shot—what an amazing career she had.

If I was forced at gunpoint to pick my five favorite performances of Dame Elizabeth, I might choose the following:

Little Women (1949). This is by far my favorite film version of the Louisa May Alcott classic and a big reason for that is Elizabeth Taylor’s presence as the spoiled Amy March. Her scene with her teacher in which the teacher can’t bring himself to strike the beautiful child is wonderful, as is Elizabeth’s snide retort to her classmates when she finds them listening at the door. I love the scene in which the ever-hungry Amy is persuaded to bring her Christmas breakfast to her less fortunate neighbors and then manages to get her fair share of popovers while feeding all the impoverished children. “One for you…one for me…one for you…one for me.” Taylor’s character truly matures in this film and her transformation from spoiled brat to the young woman who eventually marries Peter Lawford’s Laurie is remarkable. This was Elizabeth’s final role as an adolescent. She moved seamlessly into adult roles the following year.

A Place in the Sun (1951). Made when she was 19 years old, this film, based on the Theodore Dreiser novel, “An American Tragedy,” was arguably Elizabeth Taylor’s most haunting role on screen. She was at the absolute height of her beauty and the contrast between Taylor’s charmed Angela Vickers and dowdy working class Alice played by Shelley Winters is so great that you want to chuck your own values out the window and hurl Winters off that boat yourself so that poor Montgomery Clift is free to be with Elizabeth. This gorgeous George Stevens film, which won six Academy Awards, is a torture to watch but I am incapable of not tuning in whenever it airs.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958). Wait, did I just say Elizabeth Taylor was at the height of her beauty in 1951? Now that I think back to her amazing turn as Maggie the Cat seven years later, I may have to revise that. At 26, Taylor was at her sexiest playing this frustrated, ambitious Tennessee Williams icon. Considering the fact that the censors forced the studio to cut some of the most important aspects of the plot (including all references to Brick’s homosexuality), this is one of the most powerful films of the 1950s, in no small way thanks to Taylor’s desperate performance opposite Paul Newman’s Brick. And a special shout-out to one of my favorites, Madeleine Sherwood (later known as the Mother Superior on TV’s “The Flying Nun” who also appeared in some of Kendall’s father’s plays) recreating her Broadway role as Elizabeth’s vile sister-in-law, or as Maggie calls her, the “fertility monster.” Taylor’s husband, Mike Todd, died on the first day of shooting which may have sadly contributed to the depth of Taylor's emotional scenes.

 

Cleopatra (1963). Yes, you heard me right—I’m naming the film that almost single-handedly sank Twentieth-Century Fox because of its runaway budget and runaway egos. Like everyone else, I assumed the film was a total abomination and I avoided it at all costs. Until last year, that is, when a restored version of the film (over four hours long) was screened at the First Annual Turner Classic Movies Film Festival. To my utter surprise, I loved every second of it, especially Elizabeth Taylor’s over-the-top performance as our feisty African Queen. I’m not saying that the film would win any awards from historical scholars, but I was entranced by Elizabeth and her conquests (Rex Harrison and Richard Burton) from beginning to end. Taylor made headlines by being the first actress to get a cool million for a single film. Because of various delays and other problems that plagued the set, Taylor’s payday eventually increased to seven million for “Cleopatra,” which is the equivalent of about $47 million today. You go, girl! Having already gone through several death-defying episodes, Taylor experienced another one during the making of this film and had to get an emergency tracheotomy at one point. The scar from this procedure is clearly visible throughout the film.

 

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966). I’m just realizing that all my favorite Elizabeth Taylor films (with the possible exception of “Little Women”) are painful to watch but oh-so-satisfying. She was adept at tapping into dysfunction and there were few characters more dysfunctional than Edward Albee’s Martha in this exquisite Mike Nichols film. It’s hard to believe Taylor was only 32 when she made this movie, her world-weary, take-no-prisoners Martha may have been the most skilled performance she ever gave. And playing off actual hubby Richard Burton only added to the yummy horror of the role.

 

But wait…I didn’t mention “Father of the Bride, “ “Quo Vadis,” “Giant,” “Raintree County,” “The Taming of the Shrew,” and so many others. Farewell, Dame Elizabeth. Years ago, when Barbara Walters asked Taylor what she would like her epitaph would be, she said:

“Here lies Elizabeth. She hated being called Liz. But she lived!”

World Read Aloud Day

What would our lives be like without books? I can’t even imagine. I met my wife Kendall years ago because I had just read her wonderful book, “The Day I Became an Autodidact” and then recognized her from her photo on the dust jacket at a wedding a few weeks later. If Kendall had not written that book we never would have met and our son Charlie never would have been born. Kendall’s mom wrote several best-selling novels including the much-loved “A Woman of Independent Means.” Books are a huge part of the daily lives of Charlie and his sister, Leah. I make my living thanks to books, working with authors and editing manuscripts for different publishers. I honestly can’t imagine any part of my life without books.

Today is the second annual World Read Aloud Day. It is organized by LitWorld, an amazing organization founded by literacy expert Pam Allyn. I’ve had the great pleasure of working with Pam on a bunch of her books for teachers. She is a true literacy pioneer and has worked tirelessly to spread the power of literacy all over the globe, including her own backyard of New York City. World Read Aloud Day is being celebrated today in all 50 states and in over 50 countries. As I write this there is an amazing 24-hour Read Aloud event occurring in Times Square. I wish I were there!

There are almost a billion people on the planet who cannot read a book or sign their name. Needless to say, these people often face bleak futures. “Literacy is the human rights issue of our time,” says Pam Allyn. “By learning to read, we all have access to information, the power of shared stories of the human experience, and a way to connect with one another. By raising our voices to connect the written word, we come together on behalf of all the world’s people who long to join the world of readers.” For so many people around the globe, literacy IS survival. LitWorld is involved in several initiatives in Kenya, especially working with girls clubs. Here’s a brief message posted yesterday from some of the girls their work has touched.

  

In my family, my mom and grandmother were the most avid readers. Growing up with her immigrant parents in Newport, Kentucky, my grandmother didn’t even finish high school. But she always loved reading and when she was already a grandmother, she finished school and went on to Northwestern University. 

Here she is surrounded by some of her beloved books on Graduation Day in the 1950s, during a time  when few women my grandmother’s age went back to college. One of my most cherished possessions is my grandmother’s red leather-bound copy of “Madame Bovary.” My late mother read anything she could get her hands on, from memoirs to fiction to reference books. The few books of hers that I have with me now are also prized possessions. I have her childhood copy of “The Wizard of Oz” with her own crayon scribbles on the beautiful color illusrations by W. W. Denslow.

Both Leah and Charlie have enjoyed hearing this book read aloud. In the photo above, Leah is clutching my mother’s book while dressed as author L. Frank Baum at a Wizard of Oz sing-along years ago at the Hollywood Bowl. She got to go onto the stage and meet some of the actual Munchkins from the film as well as Judy Garland’s daughter Lorna Luft.

When I was growing up, I used to write to my favorite TV stars such as Catwoman and the Walton kids. I also wrote to my favorite authors. As I mentioned last year following the death of actress Patricia Neal, one of my all-time favorite authors was her husband, the brilliant Roald Dahl.

Two of my favorite books were “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” and “James and the Giant Peach.” At first glance they seemed to be fun, colorful children’s stories, but the books were actually dark, macabre studies of human fallibility. While protagonists Charlie and James exhibited an innocence and optimism that belied their bleak, poverty-stricken lives, they were surrounded by a coterie of unsavory, mean-spirited, and even sadistic characters. I don’t think any so-called children’s author in history understood the dark side of childhood as well as Roald Dahl. I longed to communicate with the creator of these sinister tales and I wrote him a letter addressed simply Roald Dahl, Buckinghamshire, England.

The few words that Roald Dahl wrote back to me on a postcard from Norway are implanted in my brain and I can recite them without taking a breath: “My dear Danny—Your splendid letter has followed me here. Thank you so much for writing. With love from Roald Dahl.” I used to study the Rand McNally globe in my bedroom and imagine the journey my splendid letter took as it traveled from Dahl’s estate in England all the way to his vacation resort in Spitsbergen, Norway. It was a life-changing moment.

I read countless books to my children when they were very young, but each had their favorites. When Leah was a toddler, it was a version of “The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe” and I can remember the exact intonations I used when I read lines like “She had SOOOO many children, she didn’t know what to do!” There’s a book called “How Kind” that I’ve probably read to Charlie about a thousand times. There’s a page where a rabbit, wanting to be kind to a cow (don’t ask!), picks some flowers and presents them to the bovine. Now whenever Charlie sees that page, he bends over to smell the flowers printed there. He recently discovered “Go, Dog, Go!” which was also a favorite of Leah’s and is a little OCD about needing to hear it at least five times in a row or he’ll go nuts. And no skipping of pages, thank you very much.

Charlie's new thing is to actually try to get INTO the book physically. If there’s a picture of a horse or car (his two favorite things), he’ll literally climb onto the page of the book for a ride!

I remember the moment when Leah first read on her own. I forgot which book (I think it was Dr. Seuss) but we were in a hospital courtyard visiting Kendall’s Uncle Thomas and Leah just picked up the book and started reading out loud. It was magical. To me it felt like the emotional scene in “The Miracle Worker” when Helen Keller suddenly makes the connection between the words that Annie Sullivan has been signing into her hand and the actual things they represented. Reading IS magic. Reading can transport you anywhere you want to go.

Join with LitWorld today and celebrate the power of words and stories to change worlds! Read aloud to someone you love!

Jane Russell, Good Ol' Gal (1921-2011)

The last time I saw the late Jane Russell in the flesh was five years ago. Kendall and I took Leah to a screening of “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” at the Cinematheque which was followed by a Q&A with the former bombshell. I remember being surprised to find out that Russell had always been a staunch Republican. Despite the notion today that most Hollywood celebs are liberals, many stars of the 1950s were quite conservative. Jane Russell was right up there with Ronald Reagan, John Wayne, Lou Costello, June Allyson, Dick Powell, and Jimmy Stewart. During a speech in 2003, she announced that “these days I am a teetotaling, mean-spirited, right-wing, narrow-minded conservative Christian bigot, but not a racist.” She sure didn't come across that way in her delightful discussion that night. 

At the time we saw her, Jane Russell was 84 years old but in great physical shape, sharp as a tack, and honest as all get out. Kendall and I have gone to many of these events where they drag out old movie stars to talk to their adoring fans. Often the former stars seem so caught up in their past glories that you get the sense they stopped being real human beings some time during the Truman administration. Not so, Jane Russell. Just like her character Dorothy Shaw in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” Russell was a straight-talkin’ babe. You got the feeling that she never bought her own publicity, which was a good thing in her case considering it was mostly focused on her famous hooters.

I was surprised to learn about the incredible work Jane Russell did for the rights of adopted children. After a botched abortion left her unable to have kids, she adopted three children in the 1950s but faced major hurdles in the process, especially when she tried to adopt a child overseas. She started working to change the laws, testifying before Congress, and was instrumental in the passage of the Federal Orphan Adoption Amendment of 1953. After that, she helped pass legislation that allowed single parents to adopt and made it possible for children to cross state lines for adoptions. Her organization WAIF, which she retired from in the late 1990s, has placed over 50,000 children in homes. Whenever the studio sent her on a publicity tour, she spent much of her time in that area working for this cause but she didn't advertise her achievements. That night we saw her, whenever anyone tried to compliment her about her life’s work she just shrugged and said “That’s where God put me.” Normally such comments would make me cringe but Jane was so humble and sincere that I could see how her deep faith has guided her life in so many positive ways.

So what’s with the mean-spirited narrow-mindedness? She gave that speech when she was in the throes of a campaign to get prayer back in the schools and to allow the Ten Commandments to remain in public spaces such as courthouses. I don’t agree with either of those ideas, but neither issue makes me start frothing at the mouth as so many other items do in the agenda of the religious right.

Unlike many of her conservative colleagues, Russell was certainly no homophobe. She spent a lot of time in the Q&A waxing nostalgic over her openly gay choreographer in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” Jack Cole. She repeatedly called him a genius and said he was largely responsible for the success of the film since neither she nor Marilyn Monroe could dance a step when they started shooting. Jane always seemed to enjoy her status as a gay icon, and she commented on the bizarre bit of homoerotica in the film when she sings “Ain't There Anyone Here for Love” in the middle of a training session for the Olympic team. As dozens of beefy  studs go through their work-out moves, Jane darts in and out of their routines singing lines like “I like big muscles, and red corpuscles, I like a beautiful hunk of man.” The men ignore her completely and seem far more interested in each other as they gyrate in suggestive positions. How that bizarre scene ever got past the censors is beyond me.   

Jane Russell was 32 when she made “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” and it is by far the best film of her career. Based on the novel by Anita Loos, it is the story of blonde, money-hungry Lorelei Lee (played by Marilyn Monroe) and her best friend, dark-haired, cynical Dorothy Shaw, who doesn’t give a whit about a man’s wallet but cares a great deal about other parts of him. Before the film started, and sounding like a Christian fundamentalist myself,  I was trying to warn Leah, 11 years old at the time, about the outrageous values that are promoted in the film (marrying someone for money, using sexuality to manipulate, etc.). During my elaborate explanation of the film’s twisted message,  Leah stopped me and said, “Dad, it’s a movie! It’s supposed to be fun, it’s not about real life.” Of course we all loved the film, especially seeing it up on the big screen in Technicolor that was so vivid you practically needed to wear sunglasses. Many of the film’s best lines would be considered appalling in a movie today.

Horny Man #1: If this boat goes down, which of the two girls (Monroe or Russell) would you  save?
Horny Man #2: Oh, those girls can’t sink.

Mr. Edmonds: Are you going to stand there and tell me that you’re not marrying my son for his money?
Lorelei (outraged): It’s true!
Mr. Edmonds: Then why are you marrying him?
Lorelei: I’m marrying him for YOUR money!

And of course, one of Marilyn's most famous songs:

He's your guy when stocks are high
But beware when they start to descend.
It's then that those louses
Go back to their spouses
Diamonds are a girl's best friend!

Hideous, right? But so, so good! Considering the fluff that it is, I think “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” is a near perfect film. To my feminist friends who are shocked and repulsed, I say go watch it in a movie theatre with 400 fans.

Jane Russell grew up in a deeply religious home with a mother who quoted from Scripture at every meal. How odd, then, that she ended up becoming famous as a sex symbol who pushed the envelope to such an extent that preachers were calling for boycotts of her early films. It wasn’t really her doing. Howard Hughes first caught sight of Jane in 1940 (she was working as a receptionist in a Van Nuys podiatrist’s office) and signed her to a seven-year contract. But he was far more interested in showcasing her ample bust than he was in finding good roles for his new star. Hughes was obsessed with Russell’s breasts and she admitted that night that while the famous story of Hughes designing a special bra for her appearance in her first film, “The Outlaw,” was true, he never knew that she didn’t actually wear the bra on the screen. She found Hughes’ design for the first seamless bra uncomfortable so she just tossed it away and put tissues on the outside of her regular bra to smooth out the seams. Hughes never knew the difference. Some of the shots of Jane bending over in “The Outlaw” showed so much cleavage that it took Hughes three years to get the film past the censor board. In the meantime, he had her doing one publicity junket after another, most with the aim of wowing the crowds with her voluptuous boobs. As Bob Hope used to introduce her, “Here comes the two-and-only, Miss Jane Russell.”

Jane was a team player but she would only go so far in this constant exploitation of her body. She refused Hughes’ request to wear a bikini in “The French Line” (at that time, Russell told us, “only the bad girls in the south of France wore them”) but she did agree to wear a cut-out bathing suit and do a bump-and-grind number that was condemned by the Catholic League of Decency. The film was released in 3-D with Jane’s breasts jutting out so far into the audience that viewers would jerk their heads away for fear of being struck. What other film in history has such a tasteless tag line: “J.R. in 3-D: It’ll knock both your eyes out!” Oy. Following this film Jane marched into Hughes’ office and said “Howard! Enough with my breasts already!” The billionaire agreed to give it a rest. Jane was a consultant on the Hughes biopic “The Aviator” and said that if she and Hughes’ other real friends were allowed anywhere near the tycoon during those last crazy years they would have gotten him to a hospital whether he liked it or not.

Russell had many nice things to say that night about her co-star Marilyn Monroe (a liberal Democrat—I wonder if they ever discussed politics!). Though this was her first real starring role, Marilyn already had her own coach on the set and after every take she’d look at her instead of famed director Howard Hawks. Needless to say, Hawks was not pleased. But Jane and Marilyn got along great. One thing about the film that I didn't have to make excuses for to Leah was the warm relationship between the two leads. For my money I can’t think of a better cinematic depiction of girlfriends. Though wildly different in temperament and ambition, the two women loved each other and were fiercely loyal. Jane said that Marilyn was extremely sensitive. When she overheard Tommy Noonan, who played her boyfriend Gus in the film, tell a reporter that kissing Marilyn Monroe is like getting eaten alive, she ran off in tears. When she was too insecure to come out of her dressing room on some mornings, Jane would hightail it over there and tell her to get moving—the crew was waiting. Marilyn always obeyed. You get the impression that if no-nonsense Jane had been around more coddled, temperamental movie stars, there would have been far less histrionics on Hollywood sets.

I really admired Jane Russell even if it's sometimes hard to reconcile the woman we met with the self-described “narrow-minded conservative Christian bigot.” Some of Russell's past affiliations I find completely perplexing, like her involvement with Phyllis Schlafly’s Eagle Forum. Still, one quality I always respected about this Good Ol’ Gal who helped so many children around the world, was her ability to consider people as individuals, not just as labels that represent the values she’s against. Look at her great affection for frequent co-star, bad boy Robert Mitchum, who once spent time on a Georgia chain gang and was arrested in 1948 for marijuana possession. The prickly actor was never repentant and yet he and Christian conservative Jane got along famously. When asked to describe Jane Russell, Mitchum said, “An authentic original. She tells it like it is.” Louella Parsons called them "the hottest couple that ever hit the screen" and I agree. In the closing line of their best film together, “His Kind of Woman,” Mitchum sums it up. He looks into Jane Russell’s eyes and says, “You could be a handy thing to have around the house.”

Farewell, Jane.