Marie Eriksen 1911.

 

"Crawford: The last years : an intimate memoir" by Carl Johnes (1979)

 

Of all the Classic Hollywood stars, nobody suffered such complete and utter posthumous humiliation like Joan Crawford. Surely, she was not the only person whose image and screen persona were artificially designed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer - it could be said that this was a very standard procedure back in the day - but all her lifelong efforts to present herself as a elegant, classy lady were irreparably damaged in 1978. (just one year after her death) when notoriously, her adopted daughter Christina Crawford exposed her as a manic, abusive personality who mentally and physically tortured her children when outside of media attention. That in all of this, Christina herself appeared selfish and opportunistic, almost didn't matter - audience lapped up the autobiography "Mommie Dearest" (later made into a famous movie) and ever since, whatever Crawford did during her lifetime, her 50+ years in cinema, is eclipsed by the trashy tell-all book by spiteful, disinherited daughter.

Because she was a huge star in her time, there are many books written about Crawford - from the top of my head I recall excellent "The Divine Feud" by Shaun Considine (based on lifelong rivalry of Crawford and Bette Davis) and "Possessed : the life of Joan Crawford" by Donald Spoto - outside of posthumous scandal, Crawford is known for amazing longevity in a famously fickle and unpredictable industry, where she somehow managed to grown and mature from 1920s Flapper girl into high fashion beauty and later, elderly but still magnetic lady. I do need to focus more on her filmography, because for some reason I remember only "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" and there were tons of excellent (?) movies before that, I think I vaguely remember delightful 1930s "The Women" and 1950s "Autumn Leaves" - even without knowing anything about her, one is intrigued with total artificiality of her screen personae, where contrary to Bette Davis (who was always totally immersed in her acting), Crawford appears so knowingly self-aware of every moment, her over-the-top demeanour inviting all kind of conclusions and interpretations. There was a curious moment when director Robert Aldrich decided to break her classy lady routine and gave her a spiteful dialogue to scream in "Autumn Leaves", almost as he instinctively knew what lies under the surface: ""Where's your decency? In what garbage dump, Mr. Hanson? And where's yours, you tramp?...You, his loving, doting, fraud of a father. And you, you SLUT! You're both so consumed with evil! So rotten! Your filthy souls are too evil for hell itself!"  

"Crawford: The last years" is a lovingly written, affectionate memoir written by Columbia Pictures editor Carl Johnes as a reaction to malicious "Mommie Dearest" (published a year earlier) in attempt to show a different side of Crawford that he himself witnessed trough the years of their personal friendship.These were Crawford's autumn years where she slowly but surely disappeared from public life and only occasionally invited guests in her apartment for the rounds of backgammon - for whatever reason, Crawford took a shine to young Johnes and enjoyed his attention, inviting him over and over again until they bonded in mutual affection. Sure, the point could be made that Crawford presented herself as she always wanted - immaculately poised, generous and stylish, not the face that her step children saw - and Johnes is well aware that she always took great efforts to play the star for him. Still, its refreshing to read something positive about Crawford, after all the public humiliation and somewhere between the lines there is a portrait of lonely and elderly beauty still craving affection and attention. 

The Birth house of Jacob Olie

 

He is now the institution of Amsterdam and probably the most famous early photographer of the city, but in his time Jacob Olie was actually a carpenter and photography (than a completely new, still relatively rough novelty) was his hobby.Which means he toyed with it passionately trough his whole life, experimented with various techniques and this was who he really was - a photographer of Amsterdam, the way it was during his lifetime. Obviously he recognised that the city is rapidly changing right before his eyes and he wanted to preserve some of the images for the posterity - nowhere in a million years he could have guessed that long after his death, he will be celebrated for this hobby and that there will grow a whole industry of books, posters, postcards and memorabilia based on his photographs. 

I was mesmerised with his photographs from the very first moment - for me they were a personification of time travel - and even had a beautiful poster from some exhibition, made from his enlarged photograph. The Amsterdam City Archives owns approximately 5,000 photographs that he originally made on glass plates. I think its just amazing that we have his beautiful work saved and on top of it that in his lifetime photography was not even so well known yet - he will become celebrated posthumously. 

I have stumbled completely accidentally on the fact that his birth house still exist and made a point of taking a walk there. It is a very interesting area called The Western Islands (De Westelijke Eilanden) which apparently used to be warehouses and shipyards close to the busy port, only recently re-constructed into a very chic residential areas. It looks absolutely lovely and it feels as the time had completely stopped there - walking there in silence, one hears only birds chirping and its a soothing pleasure to take a walk trough small streets and countless bridges, far away from the city bustle and the noise. And here I found the house where Jacob Olie was born and lived - lovely little street with ancient houses overlooking the harbour. 

Interesting link with Jacob Olie photographs here