Thanks for the Memory

Was New York in the 1950's really as glamorous as we here at SSUWAT like to think it was? Listening to the fabulous anecdotes of our beloved friend Merle Bassett, the answer seems to be a resounding "Yes!" Over the next few months, we'll be sharing some of Merle's memories of a bygone Manhattan with you. We'd like to thank him for his time and graciousness in this endeavor, which we admittedly begged him to participate in! We inaugurate this series with what may not be the dishiest or raciest of his tales (keep watching this space!), but one which describes his (near) encounter with the most elusive superstar of them all.

Greta Garbo by Cecil Beaton, 1946

"I often dreamed of meeting the great Greta Garbo and in 1959, almost did! She lived on 52nd Street and the East River; I lived on 51st Street and 3rd Avenue. There was a Swedish delicatessen near my studio and I often went there to get sandwiches for me and my model. One cold winter afternoon I went to this delicatessen for sandwiches. When I got there I saw Garbo smiling and chatting (yes, chatting!) with the counterman! I froze in my tracks as I was about 15 feet away from this film icon, trying desperately not to stare. I stood there, watching the lady out of the corner of my eye. I was unsuccessful in hearing what she was saying and decided to leave before I made a complete fool of myself. When I returned to the studio, my model asked 'Where's our lunch?' I had forgotten all about our sandwiches." - Merle Bassett

Merle Bassett, 1950's

Bless the Beasts and the Children

"I've always admired Miss Crawford for being such a wonderful mother -- for taking four children and giving them a fine home. Who better than I knows what that means to homeless little ones?" - Marilyn Monroe

Two on a Couch

Monroe on Crawford: "I've always admired Miss Crawford for being such a wonderful mother -- for taking four children and giving them a fine home. Who better than I knows what that means to homeless little ones?"

Crawford on Monroe: "She was cheap, an exhibitionist. She was never a professional, and that irritated the hell out of people. But, for God's sake, she needed help. She had all these people on her payroll. Where the hell were they when she needed them? Why in hell did she have to die alone?"

Connie-Connie-Connie-Chameleon

In the 1930's, Constance Bennett was renowned as a fashion plate even more than she was as a movie star ("I'm a lot more sartorial than thespian," she acknowledged. "They come to see me and go out humming the costumes."). Interestingly, for all her East Coast pedigree, the New York-born and bred Bennett seemed to look southward for her fashion inspiration. To wit: her sleek, polished look of the 1930's was a Hollywoodized magnification of the ultra-chic style of such socialites as the Kentucky-born Mrs. Harrison Williams, later Mona, Countess of Bismarck.


By the 1950's, Connie's screen career had declined, but she found great success in the touring company of Auntie Mame, the fabulous stage play based on Patrick Dennis' novel, and a precursor to the musical. She was the perfect embodiment of brittle, theatrical glamour, and her look seemed to mirror that of Alabama's infamous daughter, Tallulah Bankhead.



As related by our dear friend Poseidon3 over at his utterly fascinating, fabulous blog, Poseidon's Underworld, Bennett made her simultaneous big screen comeback and swan song in Ross Hunter's plush remake of Madame X (1966). In preparation for her return before the cameras, Bennett once again completely transformed herself - this time, apparently taking a page from the Texas handbook of Miss Ann Miller.

And if you're gonna go, you may as well go like Annie!