Pop Culture
MOVIE STAR FAN CLUBS - LET'S HEAR IT FOR CONRAD VEIDT
The Weekend Australian (Review), 13-14 March 2004
When Peter Bogdanovich's 2001 movie "The Cat's Meow" premiered in Los Angeles, it was boycotted by members of Friends of Marion, a California-based fan club for silent film actor Marion Davies. It was a surprise move. The club had assisted rising star Kirsten Dunst in her portrayal of Davies, and Dunst had even declared her own admiration for the actor. "She was like the Lucille Ball of her time," said Dunst in one interview. "I thought she was such a cool, intelligent lady, and everybody has portrayed her so wrong."
But "The Cat's Meow" mined an old Hollywood legend, suggesting (among other things) that Davies was an accessory to murder. Moreover, the Friends were used to unflattering portrayals of their heroine. "Before we saw the movie, we encouraged people to stay away as we felt it was going to be yet another 'rake'," admits the club's president, Nick Langdon. "The good news is that Marion comes across very well."
Nowadays, Davies is better-known as the mistress of media tycoon William Randolph Hearst, and hence the role model for Susan Alexander, the untalented "opera singer" of "Citizen Kane". At her peak, however, Davies was an acclaimed and popular comedienne. Langdon notes that, in 1930, one-third of all fan mail arriving at MGM Studios was addressed to her. (As this was the studio of Garbo, Lillian Gish, Buster Keaton, the Barrymores and "more stars than the heavens", that was no mean achievement.)
Langdon, 38, was not even born when Davies died, but the Friends of Marion has a membership ranging from young students to people who remember her heyday. As well as her performances, they are enamoured by some of her off-screen activities. "Marion's staggering record of charity is rarely mentioned by latter-day biographers or the press," says Langdon. "There are still people alive today whose lives were saved because they were sick as children and Marion paid to have them treated... She had her faults like the rest of us, but she was a wonderful person with a sparkling wit and sense of humour."
Of course, movie stars inspire fan clubs -- and not just official, studio-based organisations. Mel Gibson and Samuel L. Jackson have outside fan clubs in the US, as do prominent legends like Marilyn Monroe and Judy Garland. But who remembers Sybil Jason, Bobby Driscoll, or Barry Bostwick? Never A-listers, even in their prime, they are certainly obscure today. But if you secretly admire any of them, there is a club for you -- and yes, it has more members than you would expect. Fans of MGM musicals will be pleased to know that, according to their club memberships, fans of song-and-dance star Jane Powell outnumber Julia Roberts' fans, 50 to one.
While their heroes might be forgotten (or unheard-of) by the general public, the long-term devotion of such fans is impressive, even touching. A founding member of the Conrad Veidt Society, English movie buff Vivienne Phillips, 76, became a fan of the German-born character actor in 1941, and was shocked by his death two years later. While 'Connie' (as she calls him) is best-known as the arrogant Major Strasser in "Casablanca", he made 120 films, and Phillips will happily describe many of them in detail. "I suppose in a strange way he has become a friend, and I am not alone in regarding him as such," she says. "He was humorous, deep-thinking, a gentleman in every sense of the word. You only have to read what interviewers and critics of the day had to say about his courtesy."
Phillips embarked on one of her favourite projects in 1997, after discovering that Veidt's ashes were packed away in his nephew's basement in California. "At least I knew where he was laid to rest," she says, "but to end up in a cardboard box in someone's basement! The indignity of it!" Working with Society members, Phillips arranged to move the ashes to a crematorium near Veidt's London in home. As no carrier was willing to transport the casket, it was left to California-based Jim Rathlesberger, then head of the Society, to play courier. "Jim and his wife stayed with me for five days," recalls Phillips, "and I had the honour of having Connie in my home for that time." Phillips arranged a special "funeral" for Veidt, attended by the media and several overseas fans.
It takes serious film buffs to found present-day fan clubs for actors like Davies, Veidt and cowboy star Tom Mix, all of whom flourished over 70 years ago, and have not achieved the lasting fame of, say, Chaplin or Garbo. Film historians, however, often agree that their careers had some greatness.
Karolyn Grimes is perhaps a different case. Grimes appeared in 16 movies, all before 1952 and mostly forgettable. Her fame (such as it is) rests mainly on a small role, in a box-office flop.
That flop, however, was "It's a Wonderful Life" (1946), which has gone on to be one of America's favourite films. Grimes, as Jimmy Stewart's sickly daughter Zuzu, uttered the film's most fondly remembered line: "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." Even after repeated Christmas viewings, the line reduces normally robust adults to tears. Her fan club, founded in 1994 as the Zuzu Society, now has 3,000 members. Its website, Zuzu News, includes essays, stories and letters from the 63-year-old Grimes, alongside letters from fans, mostly talking about how much Zuzu meant to them.
Other fan clubs honour subjects who don't even have an all-American classic to their name. To some critics, B-movie star Mamie Van Doren was a poor man's Jayne Mansfield, if such a thing was possible. To fan club president Bob Bethia, however, she was (and still is) something special. "She represents an era of Hollywood glamour not seen today," he says. "Her acting skills might not have won her any awards, though she had enough range to be bubbly or sensuous."
Like Grimes, Van Doren remains active in her own fan club. This is, of course, an honour and a thrill to her fans. Why just buy the memorabilia and read the fanzines when you have access to the real person? It guarantees that autograph requests will be honoured -- and has other, less obvious benefits. Members of the John Agar Fan Club once convinced Fox to lend Agar the only video copy of his rarely-seen horror movie "Hand of Death" (1962). Agar signed an agreement not to make further copies, then watched it with his fans at a club meeting. (Video cameras were not permitted at the screening.)
Agar was no megastar, but his usual genres -- westerns, B-grade science fiction and horror -- tend to attract cult followings. When he died in 2002, club president Scott Hughes disbanded the club. "I had no intention of running a remembrance club," says Hughes. "Upon his death, many wanted the club to continue, but things just didn't feel right with John gone."
Hughes, 57, now focuses his spare time on the June Wilkinson Fan Club, celebrating the British-born model and star of such gems as "Macumba Love" (1960) and "The Playgirls and the Bellboy" (1962). Wilkinson (who, now in her sixties, still models) is perhaps even more closely involved in her club. Noticing Hughes's work with Agar, she boldly asked to him to run her own fan club. She still attends its meetings, and treats her fans with respect. "I have never had a problem with a fan," she says. "When I meet them I try to be friendly, and if I meet them at a memorabilia show, I always try to give each and every one attention, whether they buy a photo or not."
Hughes believes that Agar and Wilkinson stood out for their "interesting careers", though he does suggest that their acting talents were underrated. "I'm not bothered at all about John and June not being Oscar winners," he says. "They make up for that by being super fan friendly."
Such actors might not be household names anymore, but it is certainly not the fault of their fans. Davies' club, through a letter-writing campaign, have ensured regular screenings of her films on the US cable channel Turner Classic Movies. Van Doren's fans were active in giving her a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Members of the Hopalong Cassidy Fan Club, dedicated to actor William Boyd (who played Cassidy in nearly 70 B-grade serials), have purchased Boyd's birthplace and boyhood home, and established a museum dedicated to him in his home town in Ohio.
But if these actors don't have the immortal status of a Bogart or a Hepburn, what possesses people to start new fan clubs? Nostalgia? As many of the fans were not alive when their idols were at their peak, it couldn't be so simple. Perhaps, dated as they seem, these actors might have aged better than we imagine.
"When a performer retires, dies, or falls out of view, their work is no longer of interest," says Laura Leff, president of the International Jack Benny Fan Club. "However, most of Jack Benny's humour is as fresh and entertaining today as it was 40, 50, or 60 years ago. His characters were based on things that we can see in lots of people we know today, which gives it a timeless quality... I [occasionally] still get an e-mail from someone saying, 'Gosh, I thought I was the only one who remembered Jack Benny!'" (The California-based club boasts over 1,600 members, and meets regularly in Benny's home town.)
Whether that timelessness is shared by Aldo Ray or Jeannette Macdonald, you can always ask their respective fan clubs. But then, there also exists a New York-based fan club for Sir Henry Irving, the British theatre actor who died in 1905. Its membership is comparatively small (his performances were never committed to film), but it suggests that almost every actor of the past century has a fan following, however antiquated.
Australian film connoisseurs might consider that. Perhaps a Lottie Lyell Fan Club is long overdue.
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