Babe tries to stay away from Rosemead while Myrtle is receiving treatment. Babe’s visits do Myrtle no good, because in her pain, Myrtle rages. Myrtle rails at Babe about the other women in his life, and so Babe’s guilt increases. Viola Morse offers Babe companionship and affection, and does not ask Babe to leave Myrtle. If the strain becomes too much for either Babe or Viola Morse, they separate for a period, and Babe looks elsewhere for affection or does without until providence bring them together again.
He, too, is careful with Babe’s feelings. They are public figures, but private men. Only rarely does Babe speak aloud of his problems.
Sometimes, Babe says, I can’t decide which is worse: to have Myrtle drinking, or not to have her drinking. When she’s drinking, it’s bad, but when she’s not drinking, well, it’s like living with a bomb in the house. The bomb is ticking, and you know it’s going to explode, so you just spend your days waiting for the bang. And when it happens, you’re almost relieved.
Babe knows when Myrtle is about to start drinking again from the variance in her voice and gestures. This is how closely Babe is attuned to his wife’s distorted rhythms.
As the years go on, he watches the toll that Myrtle takes on Babe, these two people trapped in the decaying patterns of their waltz. Babe believes that Myrtle cannot survive without Babe’s presence in her life as her husband, but it is their marriage that permits her to behave as she does. Myrtle will keep falling, because Babe is always waiting to pick her up. In the end, though, Myrtle will destroy Babe just as she is destroying herself. The process has already begun. He bears witness to it. So it is that he dances with Ruth and Lois, and Babe dances with Myrtle and Viola Morse, and he and Babe dance around each other.
He decides to take Babe for dinner to Musso & Frank so that they may clear the air and be honest with each other. They will eat and drink, and he will speak to Babe of his concerns about Myrtle, and if Babe so wishes, Babe may ask him about Ruth and Lois.
And then Thelma Todd dies.
133
At the Oceana Apartments, he pauses in his reminiscences.
Of Hal Roach.
Of Henry Ginsberg.
Of Thelma Todd.
These are just cinders of recollection. They hold no true heat.
Only the memories of Babe retain warmth.
134
Thelma Todd attends the preview of The Bohemian Girl on December 11th, 1935. She seems to him distracted, but no more than that. He cannot understand how, five days later, Thelma Todd ends up choking to death on carbon monoxide fumes in her own car, locked in the garage of her lover, Roland West.
Suicide, says Jimmy Finlayson, but Jimmy Finlayson offers this with the mien of one who is testing the word for the taste of a lie.
No, he replies, not Thelma.
– She had blood on her face. A reporter told me.
– How could she have blood on her face if she died of poisoning?
– Maybe she hit her head when she lost consciousness. Except – – Except what?
– The reporter said there was a lot of blood, and more than one wound. But the reporter could be mistaken.
– What do you think?
– I think it’s hard to make that kind of mistake.
– Oh Lord.
Thelma, concludes Jimmy Finlayson, always did have terrible taste in men.
Hal Roach calls a meeting. Henry Ginsberg is present, and James Horne and Charlie Rogers, the directors of The Bohemian Girl. Babe attends, also. They sit in Hal Roach’s office, surrounded by dead animals.
Hal Roach liked Thelma Todd, but Hal Roach plans to release The Bohemian Girl on Valentine’s Day. Hal Roach fears that rumors of suicide – or God forbid, murder – may damage the picture’s prospects, but neither does Hal Roach wish to appear to be capitalizing on Thelma Todd’s passing should the opposite occur.
They’re saying it was DiCicco, says Henry Ginsberg.
Who’s saying? Babe asks.
– People. People I know.
Babe is skeptical. Babe doesn’t believe Henry Ginsberg knows any people, or none worth knowing.
That fucking crook, says Hal Roach. I warned her about him.
Pressure is already being placed on the county attorney’s office. A verdict of suicide would cast a pall over Thelma Todd’s life and career, which would be undesirable, but the chances of murder charges being brought are as likely as the reappearance of dinosaurs. Rumors will remain rumors, disseminated by reporters and Henry Ginsberg’s mythical people.
We can’t show the picture as it is, says Hal Roach. It’ll become a freak show.
In this, he knows, Hal Roach is correct. No one in the room wishes for The Bohemian Girl to become a magnet for ghouls. But Thelma Todd, as the Gypsy Queen, is the love interest in the picture. Cutting her scenes is not an option.
We’ll have to reshoot, he says.
We could hire another actress, says Henry Ginsberg.
Hal Roach nixes this. Replacing Thelma Todd will seem callous.
Let’s just give Mae more lines, he says. We’ll make her the love interest, cut most of the Gypsy Queen’s lines, and just recast that as a minor role.
How long will it take? asks Hal Roach.
– Two weeks. Perhaps even ten days, if we’re fast.
Hal Roach looks to Henry Ginsberg. Henry Ginsberg scribbles some figures on a pad. Babe sighs.
We can afford one week, says Henry Ginsberg.
What about flowers for the funeral? says Charlie Rogers. Can we afford those, or should we just pick some from the side of the road?
We’ll send a wreath, says Henry Ginsberg.
That’s the thing about Henry Ginsberg: Henry Ginsberg is impervious to sarcasm.
It’s settled then, says Hal Roach. We break, and we’ll reshoot in the first week of January. Keep me posted on the script, and with suggestions for a new Gypsy Queen.
Gentlemen, happy holidays, and I’ll see you at the cemetery.
135
At the Oceana Apartments, he realizes that Lois, his daughter, has now lived longer than Thelma Todd.
He feels remorse at his failings as a father to Lois, although he rarely speaks of them. He found holidays difficult in the aftermath of the divorce, and Christmas in particular. It pained him not to be part of his family, to be separated from his daughter in the days before and the days after. To ease his own pain, he would lie to her. He would tell her that he was going out of town for the season, although this was not the case. Only later in life did he confess to her the truth, and even then he struggled to articulate the reasons for his deception.
Such foolishness.
All those lost days.
136
Thelma Todd’s death hangs hooks in the water. They snag on flesh long after The Bohemian Girl has been forgotten.