Lois Wilson Tells Her Untold Tale (1929) 🇺🇸

March 07, 2023

Lois Wilson has worn the Hollywood halo. She is one of the persons concerning whom a preconceived, a set idea has gone abroad in the land. She has been tarred with one brush, painted with one color. A nice girl. The typical American girl. The type any mother's son would be safe with. An idealist. Clean. Wholesome, scorning such hot and horrid things as are commonly supposed to occupy the young Hollywoodians.

by Gladys Hall

She has been called refreshing, naive, unspoiled, fearless — numerous other adjectives of the same ilk, all tending to depict a person of neutral color, washed in a sky-blue dye, without sin because without temptation. Wrong. All wrong. Nor is the reverse side of the ledger true, either. If Lois Wilson is not a saint of the school of Elsie Dinsmore and Pollyanna, neither is she heir to the school of the DuBarrys and such conniving cuties as good old Cleo. In between these two basic types there is another. And these others are the human human beings. Men and women who have ideals on the one side and desires on the other and constant conflict between the two. Men and women who have dreamed young dreams and seen them perish; hoped shining hopes and seen them dim; worked hard, sometimes with reward and sometimes with failure. Men and women who have experienced poverty and riches, pain and neglect, adulation and triumph, and have come through these things unbroken sword in hand, deep and warm and human. Understanding many things and so condemning nothing. Such is Lois Wilson.

We spent a whole day together, in the boudoir of her spacious home in Beverly Hills. We talked, as women will, of life and love and babies, of reincarnation and disillusions and what comes out of it all. We looked over old diaries, records of old dreams, many of them smashed; and Lola talked and there emerged, for the very first time, a self-portrait of one woman of tire screen who has never been known before. Lois Wilson, self-described:

"Life is not what I thought it was.

"That is the lesson I have had to learn. And I have learned it in a very hard school.

"Curious, but when I was a child, a very young girl, I was extremely orthodox. An Episcopalian, subscribing to every tenet and dogma of the church. And now that I subscribe no longer, now that I rarely go to church and am not religious in the accepted sense of that term, I feel that I am more religious than I ever was before.

"I never met reality until I was twenty-two.

"I was a dreamer when I was a child. Brought up in the South, ideally happy with my mother and father, with my three sisters, in our home, sometimes poor but never poor in anything but money. I believed that life was all like that. That women were virtuous and loving and kind, that men were chivalrous and gallant, ready and willing to stand and serve. I believed that I would grow up, be protected, happy, that some Prince Charming would come galloping by for me and that I would live happily ever after. That was life, wasn't it? My life, certainly.

"When I was very tiny I thought that I had been stolen and given to my parents. Some wicked tutor had abducted me from the kingdom of my birth. And some day the reigning monarch would trace me and they would send emissaries with trumpets to bring me back to my throne. I was a little superior toward my sisters because of this, but always very kind. And when I deliberated upon the outcome of this matter, when I visualized the royal personages coming to escort me back, I always saw myself refusing them, firmly and rather nobly, electing to remain with my parents who had become my parents indeed. The family always won out.

The Dream-Lover

"When I grew older, I had a dream-lover. A make-believe lover. He was why I didn't fall in love before I did. Why I never had the usual adolescent crushes. Why I never engaged in the spooning parties now called necking. I never spooned or necked or petted, or whatever the term is, because of this dream lover of mine. He was as real to me as flesh and blood. And he was far more desirable than any of the boys I met. He was completely ideal, obliging and sensitive, changing his moods to match mine, and even changing his name now and again, according to the dictates of my fancy. Usually he was Ivanhoe. And he was always very tall and very dark and very tender and romantic. We strolled in the moonlight together, conversing as lovers do, and tramped the spring woods in the rain. And I lay in his arms while he made love to me. I felt very sorry for the other girls. I felt they had been cheated of the ideal lover. It was all so real to me.

"Influencing and tempering this visionary world of mine was, first of all, my mother. She was a radical in the days before radical women had come in. She taught us to look life squarely in the face, and from many angles, not from just one. She believed in all and every cultural influence and that every influence may be made cultural. She gave us good books to read from the time we could toddle, so that when other girls were hiding trashy novels under their mattresses I had no desire to read that sort of thing. I had been brought up on other mental diet. She took us to the theater when other girls of our ages were not allowed. She was often criticized for her freedom of viewpoint and for the freedom she allowed us. But she was never criticized by us. I often feel that there would be no need of theater censorship or any other kind if mothers would bring their children up to be selective.

The Godlike Doctor

"The second great influence in my life was Dr. Beard, a dignitary of the church, who paid my college monthly visits and talked to us. He took an especial interest in me, partly, I think, because I took such an interest in him and what he had to say. You see, I could believe in him. I did. I think perhaps he was God to me. At least, he looked the way I imagined that God must look. And I know that he understood me far better than I understood myself. I had a notion that I was the saint type, born into this world to perform an unworldly mission, destined to do good to mankind. I wanted, at that time, to be a nun. And through Dr. Beard I made inquiries about an order in my church.

"Dr. Beard told me that that life was not for me. I think he knew that I was — well, far more of the earth earthy than- I liked to think myself. Instead of the life of the cloister, he pointed out to me the great mission of a work in the world. He made me value and revere work. He taught me, too, the even greater value of wifehood and motherhood. For one career or the other, he said, I was designed. And he taught me to hold on to my faith, not to question too much, never to allow myself to doubt. I think, now, that he knew how much I would need that faith.

"The president of my college was another strong influence. She wore her hat back-side-foremost quite often and a huge safety pin for a belt buckle. She had lost her lover in the Civil War and had remained true to him all her life. And out of the wreck of her own hopes and heart she had built and sustained the hearts and hopes of other people. From these two noble souls I got the ruling admiration that is mine today — admiration for those great people who transcend their own personal pain and frustration and succeed in spite of it, or perhaps because of it.

The First Real Love

"I came face to face with reality when I was twenty-two. For the first time.

"And oddly enough, the one time in My life when I was actually and definitely engaged to be married is the one time no one has ever known about. Not so much as a rumor. Vet I was engaged to him for nearly two years and the wedding date was set.

"He was a man older than myself. Of the scientific type. And it was a case of mutual attraction at first sight. I was lunching one day with another man. This man — Stephen — came into the cafe. I took one look at him and said, 'Who is that man?' A question I had certainly never asked or felt like asking before. My tête-à-tête companion wouldn't tell me. He laughed and said, 'He takes all my girls away from me. He isn't going to get the chance this time. But he did get the chance — he made it. By coming over to our table and forcing an introduction. That was, say, in September. I didn't see him again until the following Christmas when he called me on the 'phone and invited me to a large house-party to be given by a mutual friend. I accepted.

"We were dancing together that first evening and suddenly, cataclysmically, something began to happen to me. I thought, 'What is this I am feeling?' I'd never felt anything like it in all my life before. I hadn't had a trace of experience and then I thought, 'This is love!'

"It was mutual. We became engaged that very night. And we decided to wait for a year and then be married. I don't know precisely what went wrong. I think that it was me. He didn't especially care for my screen work. He said that he couldn't for the life of him understand why I should want to do such a thing. There was that; and then, too, I was very young, just beginning to have a taste of success, very sure of myself and my own unlimited powers.

Too Sure Too Soon

"I thought that I could go off on location trips, forget to write, play about generally and that all I would have to do was whistle and he would come to heel. I did a lot of very eccentric things, to say the least. I was, I suppose, whimsical and that awful thing called temperamental. I hurt his pride. I didn't give with any fullness. I prattled on about my work, my leading men, broke dates, did all the things a silly, cocksure girl does do before she knows any better.

"We broke our engagement but decided to remain good friends and see what came of it all. After a few months of this I decided that — I wanted him.

"I had been away. I came back in time to go to a large theater party with him. I'd been doing a lot of thinking on that trip and I'd decided to tell him that I knew I had been very trying and silly, but that I was going to change for the better and he could set the wedding date any time he thought best. One of our chief quarrels in the past had been because I was always postponing that date. He would say to me, 'If a girl really loves a man, she doesn't keep postponing the wedding date. That night I wore a new frock, too. For him. One I thought he would especially admire.

"When I came downstairs to greet him, he didn't notice the new and special gown. This was queer. I could see that he was very nervous. We went out together and all evening he was abrupt, fidgety, nervous. Finally I asked him point-blank what the matter was. He told me that he had become engaged to another girl.

But It Was Like That

"There were a lot of details; the way I had treated him, of course; my apparent indifference — things like that. I didn't hear them. I don't know how I got through that evening. I don't even remember what the play was about. I kept thinking, 'But this can't have happened to me. It might happen to anyone else. I've read of such things, but not to me. Life is not like this. Of course not.'

"But it was. Just like that. I don't know, even today, whether it was really love on my part or not. Or disillusion. That first, unforgettable one. I only know that for three months after I was miserable and that for the first and last time in my life I ran away from a situation I dared not face. His wedding day. I came out to Hollywood and stayed here until that day was over.

"Then I met another man. The other man. The really great and consuming love of my life.

"He was on the train when I came home again. As a matter of fact, I had met him before, two or three times, very casually. But I'd never talked to him before. He was interested in philosophy, psychology, things like that. Things that took my mind off myself. He was tall and young and handsome. It may have been a rebound. I often wonder what the outcome might have been if he had been any other man who talked to me as he did. But I don't think so.' At any rate, all I know is that I felt again, more strongly than before, the thing I had felt that first night I danced with Stephen. I, who had thought never to feel that, thing again. I knew that I was in love again.

"And this time it lasted for four years. Four tragic, miserable years. When love is powerful — and wrong — it can be the most devastating force in the world. Those were years bare of any real happiness whatsoever. Excitement, yes. That's different. For this time I gave and gave fully and freely and without reserve. I thought that I had learned a valuable lesson. This time I wouldn't be coy, uncertain, hard to please. All the things I had been with Stephen. I wouldn't consider myself. I would consider him. It wasn't necessary to play and even if I had wanted to I couldn't have succeeded. You see, I loved him too much. And so I was tolerant and tender and, I think, human.

The World Turns Black

"And then, one day, a short while before we had thought to be married, a frightful thing happened to us. The most tragic, soul-shattering thing that has ever happened to anyone. It was over. And if I had thought I knew what pain was before, I knew what it was then.

"For nearly a year, after that horrible night, I never ate a mouthful of food that agreed with me. I lost nearly thirty pounds in weight. I had difficulties with my work. The face of the entire world had turned black and if it had not been for my family I would have turned my face on the world.

"I went about, blind, dumb, so badly hurt that I couldn't seem to react properly to anything about me. I knew that I would never love again as I had loved. I didn't know where to turn or what to do. Or how to keep going from one dull day to another one duller.

"And then, one morning, I came face to face with myself in the mirror. Hollow eyes and cheeks, drooped mouth, thin, dejected, and weary. A poor sorrowful-looking sight I was, too. I had shed too many tears, spent too many wakeful nights, lost too much hope and happiness I stared at this poor, broken looking reed and I said to myself, 'You rotten sport, you.'

"My sister, Diana, told me the same thing in other words. I began to take stock of myself. I began to be wholesomely ashamed of myself. I was losing everything, work, friends, and, worst of all, my grip on myself.

"I began to force myself to realize what I had, and not what I had lost. I had my mother and father and sisters, my work, hope and health. If any woman in the same situation should ask me what I think most essential to working out of those black depths, I would say, 'Health and faith.' A certain faith for which there is no name, faith that such things are necessary, serve some purpose, matter, are good.

Happiness Through Pain

"They are good. I'm glad that it happened to me. I needed it. I'm happy now. Happier than I have ever been in all my life before, with a mature, wide-awake happiness I could never have realized in any other way.

"I understand things as I never understood them before. I have developed a sense of humor. I believe I attach due importance to really important things, but I have ceased taking everything seriously as I once did. I take nothing very seriously now. Or not too seriously.

"And here I am. I want to be a human being living among other human beings.

"I'm not afraid any longer. Except of the dark — and of horses. I have to smile, by the way, when I read stories written about me and my fearlessness. Never was there a greater coward born. I nearly die every time I have to mount a strange horse, every time I come home alone after dark. But I am not afraid of life. It has done its worst to me and given me, in exchange, the great gift of courage. I'm not afraid of old age. When I grow too old for the screen, as I shall, there is the stage. One need never be too old for that. There are few Duses and Bernhardts, of course, but there is that goal to strive for and that's all that's necessary.

"I cannot visualize myself as married now. I have an idea marriage was not meant for me in this incarnation. I still dream about it in some of the wakeful hours of the night. I'd love a home of my own, and children, but if I am not to find this happiness here, this time, I have learned to wait.

"I will not play a game. A game with men. If I cannot be honest with a man and find a like honesty in return, I can do without anything.

"I have learned, out of all of this, to love work more than I ever did before. I have earned to love and really value books. I used to read for the pleasure I got out of it, he color, the emotional reactions. Now I read to learn, to develop. I've learned to love my friends with an added zest. Out of doors. My home and family and things.

"I learned to love life only after I had lost it."

There is no need to add a by-line to that. Lois Wilson has found the heart of wisdom and passed it on to you.