Ralph’s Manuscript - Page 23

Published Manuscript

We are entertaining the idea of publishing a first edition of Ralph's manuscript in book form.  This would be a hard bound limited print first edition with the complete manuscript (around 100 pages) and pictures.  At this time we are trying to gauge interest.  If you think you would be interested in a copy of this book, should we publish it,  Draft pages will be posted here so you can get an idea of what it contains.


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Posted - November 7, 2005

The shot of Gable lying on the lake-bed floor, being trampled by the stallion – shot from the horse’s point of view.  Gable lay in the dirt dodging the two artificial horse legs being manipulated by Ross Burke and Ted Berkeley.  Huston thought it not realistic nor exciting enough and took over the two legs and manically started kicking at Gable.  From where I was standing it looked battle to the death between the two men.  It was printed. 

 This morning I went to the bungalow about five or six, and was halted near the kitchen by screaming and accusations and a final “get out of here, and don’t you dare ever return.  I’ve finally had enough of you – I’ve had enough of you for years, but this is it.  I don’t give a damn where you go, to hell for all I care.”

 Arthur moved to the Sunset West, incognito, and practically no one knew they’d finally separated for the last time.  I never noticed any overt coolness on the set, and I think only Frank Taylor knew.  Paula, May, Hazel, Whitey, Agnes, etc., but no “outsiders.”

 Gable was leaving the set today toward the end of the shooting, and stopped by to say goodnight to Marilyn.  Something he rarely did.  Eve Arnold was setting up for a Life cover picture of Marilyn, and she was dragging herself into costume, and fresh make-up.  He asked “What is going on here?”  “Eve has a deadline for the picture to be in NY”.  “Then schedule it for early in the morning.  You’ve had a tough day.  No actress should have to do a sitting at the end of such a day.”  “But the deadline.”  “It can wait.  You go home, get some rest, and do the picture tomorrow.”  It’s to be done tomorrow morning.  Marilyn looked like a little girl, whose father had saved her from the big bad wolf.

 Paula:  “Ralph, when do you see Marilyn tonight?”  “She said about eight.”  “I’ve just read the new rewrites.  It is absolutely imperative that she not see them until I’ve had a chance to try to talk with Arthur.  See what you can do to prevent it.  Hide the script, take it with you, do anything.  It’s that vital.  What I feared in Reno has happened.  The whole picture is being changed around.  The character of Roslyn is being made into an out-and-out whore, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.  Clark is being made into a bum whose own mother wouldn’t like him.  Monty is being brushed off.  Eli is the big romantic.  I saw this months ago, but I couldn’t believe Arthur would ruin his beautiful concept.  Believe me.  I can’t stress too much that we can’t let her read them.”

 When I got to the bungalow, she’d just finished eating something, so we talked about Gable’s taking charge of the Life picture session and how sometimes fantasies do come true.  He had become her father.  Then, after fifteen minutes we started the massage.  She relaxed immediately, and by the time we were halfway through, was asleep.  While talking, I’d tried to discover the script, but it was nowhere in view.  Nor could I see it in the bedroom.  On my way out, I looked in the kitchen to no avail.  I thought probably it’d been left in the limousine.

 I went back to my room where I had left my dinner, a turkey, bacon sandwich, and a beer.  I’d finished when the phone rang.  I couldn’t believe she’d waken, it was such a deep sleep.  Paula: “Ralph, I’m desperately worried.  Did you find it?”  I told her my search and my conclusion.  That she was deep in sleep, but undoubtedly would call sometime in the night.  She did, and I carried the pills with me for the two o’clock massage.  Again she fell asleep very early. 

 

Manuscript property of the estate of Ralph L. Roberts. Do not copy without permission.