The Mammoth Book of Hollywood Scandals (31 page)

“Of course not,” the detective told him, before explaining that he was merely waiting for the lab results before making a decision on what had really happened to Peggy.

Roberts listened intently and then gave his worrying reply. “Well, if you have anything on your mind, get it off now, because you won’t see me again,” he said. The concerned officer asked the man to explain what exactly he meant, before receiving a worrying reply.

“I’m going to commit suicide,” Albert told him, which worried the officer so much that he took the time to tell him that perhaps he had just had too much to drink.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Burris begged him, before asking his officers to explain to Roberts that there was absolutely no evidence whatsoever to connect the grieving man to the death. But for Albert Roberts this was all just white noise. He had lost his wife in the very home where they had hoped to build their future, and in the days ahead he repeated his threats of suicide to various members of his friends, family and anyone else willing to listen.

In spite of the declarations, everyone seemed to ignore the signs, sweeping them under the carpet and telling Albert that everything would one day be okay. Perhaps they chose to disbelieve the threats because the alternative was too much to bear, or maybe the cameraman was prone to dramatics and no one believed he was really capable of ending his own life.

But capable he was, and just three weeks after Peggy Shannon’s death, he took his dog to visit his wife’s grave one last time. Once there he discovered that none of her friends or family had delivered any flowers at all, which made the widower absolutely furious. “They have never been near the grave,” he wrote in a note to his sister. “Them dirty leeches, they wouldn’t take her a pansy but they would take her clothes and say they loved her more than life.”

Peggy had supported her friends and family for many years, and Roberts was only too aware of that. “You know how Peg supported them,” he wrote. “Any denial, just ask them to prove how they lived all these years.” Seeing no flowers on Peggy Shannon’s grave was the final straw for the grieving man, and quite despondent he arrived back home at the house he had shared with his beloved wife, and took out his gun. He then sat down on the same chair, at the same table as the one where he had found Peggy, and wrote a sad and devastating note to no one in particular: “To Whom It May Concern, I am very much in love with my wife, Peggy Shannon. In this spot she passed away. So in reverence to her you will find me in the same spot . . .” He then went on to say that he believed no one would understand his actions, but that was as it should be. “Why don’t you all try a little harder – it wouldn’t hurt,” he wrote. “Adios amigos, Al Roberts.”

He then wrote two notes to his sister, Phoebe Genereux, one berating Peggy’s friends and family for their lack of respect, and urging her not to allow them to take any of his wife’s belongings, and the other begging her to take his dog and ship him to “Johnny”. “If you don’t,” he wrote, “I will never forgive you.” He then said that he knew the dog would get on well with his new owner as Peggy had told him so on more than one occasion. “So please, take him ‘our child’ and send him on. He certainly is entitled to that.” He then left instructions to be buried in his grey suit, and signed the letter simply, “Al”.

How long he sat at that table we will never know, but it was certainly a good few hours, because just as dawn was breaking, he picked up the telephone and rang his sister, Phoebe Genereux.

“I’m going to shoot myself,” Roberts told her, which sent his sister into a blind panic.

“Al don’t do it!” she screamed, but it was too late. Just seconds later a gunshot echoed down the telephone line, then his dog began to bark and Genereux could no longer hear her brother. Albert Roberts was gone.

By the time the police arrived at the home they were shocked to find him slumped in exactly the same manner as Peggy had been found just weeks before. His dog “Spec” lay next to the table, whimpering for his master to wake up, but it was too late. The next day, the coroner announced that “examination so far shows no traces of poison or any bruises or marks”. Ironically just two days after that, it was announced that the death of Peggy Shannon had been caused by a combination of factors: low vitality, a run-down body and a heart attack. The passing had been entirely natural and any concern that the grieving Roberts had about his part in her death was entirely misguided.

A month after Peggy Shannon’s death, Louis Sobol wrote in the
San Antonio Light
that she must have been hit by the “Follies jinx” which had apparently blighted various members of the troupe for a number of years. The article then went on to list a huge variety of dancers who had died due to suicide or in some kind of mysterious way, and detailed others who had fallen on hard times. It cannot be argued that Peggy Shannon was most certainly the latest in a long line of Follies whose lives had ended badly, but had she been jinxed, or was it all just a tragic coincidence?

Her family perhaps did not believe in a jinx but they certainly thought there was some kind of foul play involved and this was hammered home when the shock news of Albert Roberts’s death was announced. Two members of the same family dead in a matter of weeks – it all seemed too much of a coincidence – so to get to the heart of the “mystery” they hired a private detective to solve the case. Nothing was ever found, of course, and the deaths of Peggy Shannon and Albert Roberts were put down to tragedy and heartbreak, rather than anything untoward. Peggy had lived in a haze of drama, alcohol and pain for a number of years and perhaps the biggest tragedy of all is that at a time when she had finally discovered true love, it was sadly all taken away in the blink of an eye.

In 1942 Carole Lombard was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, famed for her legendary parties and whacky sense of humour; she was also Mrs Clark Gable, making her part of one of the most beloved couples in entertainment history. However, the fairy tale would come to an end one dark January evening, when Carole Lombard’s light was extinguished from the screen and the world forever.

Born Jane Alice Peters on 6 October 1908, she was raised for her first six years with her brothers, Stuart and Fred, in Fort Wayne, Indiana. However, the divorce of her parents prompted her mother, Elizabeth (Beth), to take her children away from their hometown and to move west in order to settle in Los Angeles, California.

Jane was a popular student who enjoyed acting and sports. She was an outdoor kind of girl who revelled in tomboy activities and adventures. However, acting was not far away from her mind and she made her screen debut aged twelve, when she worked in the 1921 movie,
A Perfect Crime
. She then went on to work for a time under both the names Jane Peters and Carol Lombard, before finally opting for the more permanent Carole Lombard.

With her star quickly rising, Carole had the world at her feet, but it all threatened to come crashing down in 1926 when she was involved in a terrible car accident that saw the actress’s cheek being sliced to such a degree that she required plastic surgery. As if this wasn’t bad enough, it was agreed that in order to avoid a huge scar, the procedure should be carried out without anaesthetic. Carole agreed and the operation was a success, though the scar can still be seen in her later movies. It did not, however, detract from her amazing beauty, and it is safe to say that during the 1930s Carole Lombard was one of the most – if not
the
most – beautiful actresses working in Hollywood at that time.

After taking some time off following the car accident, the young Carole was finally able to resume her career and her love life, dating several actors and marrying actor William Powell in 1931. Although the pair were later to divorce, they stayed the best of friends and even worked together later in their careers. Powell also went on to have a relationship with Jean Harlow, whom Carole knew well and she totally approved of the romance. It seemed that while the two had been unable to sustain their own relationship, they made very good friends and were very happy to remain this way until the end.

After the failure of her marriage, Carole concentrated on her career and her star continued to rise. She had made a smooth transition from silent movies to talkies, and in the early 1930s the upcoming star was showcased in a variety of movies including 1932’s
No Man of Her Own
(where she met Clark Gable),
Bolero
(1934) and
We’re Not Dressing
(1934). Later films included
My Man Godfrey
(1936), in which she played opposite her ex-husband William Powell, and
Hands Across the Table
, which teamed her up with tragic star Marie Prevost.

Romance was also back on the cards when Carole met “crooner” Russ Columbo. Russ was a very popular musical artist who had hundreds of women swooning whenever he opened his mouth to sing. However, it was Carole who won his heart and it was rumoured that the two would marry, though both played down the relationship, assuring the press that they were “just good friends”. However, the rumours continued and everyone expected to hear wedding bells that would lead the beautiful Lombard to the altar for the second time.

Tragically, the romance came to a shocking end when Russ Columbo was shot dead in an accidental shooting in 1934, the details of which are covered in a separate chapter within this book. Carole Lombard was absolutely devastated with the loss of her partner and some say that she never fully got over his death.

Moving on from the loss of Russ Columbo, Carole slowly but surely rebuilt her life and, after becoming reacquainted with Clark Gable at a party, the two became inseparable. Just as she had done as a child, Carole loved to be in the great outdoors, and it was that, combined with a magnificent sense of humour, that made her all the more attractive to Mr Gable. He was known as something of a “he-man” and despite being married to the much older Ria Langham, Gable began an affair with Lombard which quickly became public knowledge and the talk of the town.

By the time Ria agreed to a divorce, Gable was involved in the making of the 1939 movie,
Gone with the Wind
. Taking a break from the production, he quietly married Carole on 29 March 1939 and the two settled down to life in their Encino ranch. The couple were quickly dubbed the happiest couple in Hollywood and became famous for snubbing glamorous award shows in favour of road trips, fishing, shooting and camping, capturing some of these activities on their home movie camera. In fact, they loved their trips so much that at one point they were even reported missing in the countryside, feared dead. The couple eventually appeared again, however, laughingly telling reporters that the only reason they had gone missing was because their car had broken down; nothing more, nothing less.

But while their joint public persona was one of constant happiness, there were various problems within the marriage, such as the couple’s fruitless desire to have children and the rumours of Gable’s wandering eye. He had long since been legendary for his love of female co-stars, and while it cannot be confirmed either way, there have been rumours over the years that despite his love for Carole, he never did give up his dalliances with other actresses. Added to that, there was the knowledge that before Gable had swept her off her feet, the real love of Carole’s life had been Russ Columbo. Clark was well aware of this fact and became so paranoid that he is said to have banned all mention of him from his house during the course of the couple’s marriage.

In January 1942, just after the United States had entered World War II, Carole took on the role of Defence Bond saleswoman, and travelled to Indiana with her mother Beth and Gable’s press agent, Otto Winkler. The tour was an almighty success with Carole raising over $2 million in just one evening. However, while she was happy to take part in the fundraising, the actress was also concerned at leaving her husband alone at home. He was busy making
Somewhere I’ll Find You
with Lana Turner, and Lombard was afraid that his wandering eye would meander in the actress’s direction. With this in mind, she suggested to her mother that they should fly home instead of taking the train as originally planned.

Lombard’s mother, a keen numerologist, was completely against altering their plans and was overheard talking to her daughter at Indianapolis Municipal Airport.

“Carole, don’t take that plane,” she said, though her daughter was determined to have her way. Eventually the actress decided to settle the decision on the toss of a coin, and after winning the bet she was happy to be flying back to California. The party – including Carole’s unhappy mother – settled into a flight which was to take them from Indiana to Las Vegas, and then finally back to Los Angeles. Tragically, however, the plane was never to make it home.

After stopping to refuel in Las Vegas, the TWA aircraft took off for the last part of the trip, but shortly after the plane had left the runway, it plummeted head first into Mount Potosi, killing everyone on board, including Carole Lombard, her mother, and twenty-two passengers and crew. The pilot, Wayne Williams, had last reported from the aircraft at 7.07 p.m., but nothing was then heard until local residents reported to police that they had heard an almighty explosion and had spotted fire in the mountains. These residents are reported to have included silent-screen star Clara Bow, who is said to have seen a huge light in the sky as the plane burned, some ninety miles away from her ranch.

Back in Los Angeles, a devastated Clark Gable was informed of the crash, just as he was waiting for his wife to return home. He immediately chartered a plane to Las Vegas in order to help with the search, though once there, was ultimately stopped from going up the mountain by friends, who were concerned that he would find Carole’s body in a distressing state.

As the search crew gathered at the mountain base, it soon became apparent that this was not going to be an easy rescue. The terrain was so tough that the search was considered impossible until the following morning when daylight came and the crew could finally climb the mountain. Even then, the journey was intense and very few of the party made it up to the wreckage at first and reported that even when they did arrive, there was virtually nothing left of the aircraft at all. Debris had been thrown for 500 yards on every side, and had fallen 45 feet to the slopes below, with clothes and personal items settling on the ground, trees and bushes. To make things worse, the mountain was covered in snow – some of it waist deep – hampering the search.