What was unexpected to me was how successful Stanwyck was
during those early years, eventually reaching the magnificent salary of $100 a
week. Men and women of the musical
revues and of the theatre saw something out of the ordinary in her. The master director and producer David
Belasco told her she didn’t know how to walk and to go to the zoo and watch the
animals. She went to the Bronx Zoo and
practiced the panther’s proud and purposeful stride until it became natural for
her. Belasco also renamed Ruby Stevens
Barbara Stanwyck just before her Broadway debut in a crime melodrama, “The
Noose.” When she signed the contract,
she had to be told how to spell her new name.
Cast as a cabaret dancer secretly in love with a gangster, she was given a major third act scene during the out-of-town tryout. Broadway critics noticed the girl who begged to take the gangster’s body after he was hanged because “he ain’t got no relatives” to give him a funeral. The Sun said Miss Barbara Stanwyck “played it well enough to make first nighters wipe tears from their eyes.” The New York Times looked forward to “the further good work of Miss Dorothy Stanwyck.”
Within a few years, that further good work would be in the movies. But, first, there was a starring role as the hot-tempered wife of a burlesque comedian in “Burlesque.” Alexander Woollcott called the play “no account” but described Miss Stanwyck as “touching and true.” She had asked for $300 a week. She was barely 20 years old.
“A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel - True 1907-1940” does detail her life -- in particular her marriage to the supremely successful vaudeville comedian Frank Fay and, despite her loyalty, its eventual disintegration. Unsuccessful in Hollywood, Fay became a heavy drinker and then an alcoholic. And alcohol began to make him violent. “I was nothing until Fay came along, and I would have been nothing a great deal longer if he had never come along,” Stanwyck once said. But, finally, she began to be frightened -- for herself and for Dion, the son they had adopted. Fay began to hit her, and he hurled three-year-old Dion into the swimming pool. The day he knocked her down a staircase, she took Dion and fled, leaving behind the four-acre Brentwood estate into which Fay had poured almost all of the $1 million Stanwyck had made during her six years in Hollywood.
But the book is also a life of Hollywood during the 1930s and America during the Depression and the way the dream factory and reality interact. If the detail is sometimes overwhelming, I am not surprised. Vicky Wilson, who is now a senior editor and vice-president at Alfred Knopf, was the editor of my first book, “The Making of the Wizard of Oz,” and, after I turned in the first 10,000 words, she sent me back to my typewriter for more depth, more details, more depth.
There will be many more details in Volume 2 of Barbara Stanwyck’s life. One thing will not change, however. To the end, Stanwyck never saw herself as more important than the unimportant people with whom she worked. As she says over and over at different times and in different words, “In Hollywood you are loved for success and success alone.” And “I am a star today, but give me one or two bad pictures and Hollywood will consider me a flop again. It isn’t what you do or have done that counts here. It’s what happens. That’s why I have never understood the minds of the picture brains. And never will.”
"A Life of Barbara Stanwyck" is published by Simon and Schuster.