Clara Baskill’s Hollywoodland
By: Joe Shetina
Tags: Old Hollywood, Fiction, Movies, Film

HOLLYWOOD — Sitting down to lunch with the king of the Metro lot is no ordinary occasion for this reporter. At a lively, but lived-in thirty-six years of age, Burton Warner never expected to be any studio’s golden boy. His recent string of box office diamonds has bought him fame and first pick of any picture that comes through Metropolitan Pictures. Yet, the Hollywood dynamo remains a humble kid from the Bronx. He orders a ribeye cooked medium-well and baked potato for lunch. He drinks only club soda and lime.

Speaking of drink, a blind item that appeared in this very column last month had it on good authority that Warner was seen stumbling out of the Chateau Marmont in the wee hours. He was clinging to a beautiful blonde, presumably to stay upright.

Warner complimented my candor in describing the event and credited yours truly with helping him see how detrimental alcohol might be to his career.

Every star must navigate the temptations and pitfalls of celebrity in his own way. It’s nice to see one such star be so candid and vulnerable in talking about the less glamorous side of this business.

STUDIO ON THE VERGE

There’s no reason for a studio like Olympus to be on the brink of collapse, but that’s the story as told by an inside source. Despite having two productions listed among last year’s top ten biggest grossers, financial mismanagement is reported to be the company’s most consistent output.

Studio head Alfie Bannister has made repeated claims that Olympus is as indestructible as its mythological counterpart would suggest — but that he should have to refute such claims does not bode well. Maybe the former shoe store kingpin should have stuck to loafers.

DISTURBING THE PEACE

Lemont Brothers star Emily Stillwell, with that positively avian voice, has a lot to be singing about these days. Unfortunately, her neighbors have had enough of it. Three adjacent residents to her new Beverly Hills digs have taken up a complaint with the city due to Stillwell’s nonstop vocalizing. It seems the musical enchantress is so devoted to her craft that she’s up as late as 3 AM mastering it. No comment on whether the young man seen coming and going at all hours is there for voice lessons.

ON THE MARKET

Speaking of troublesome real estate, the palatial Hollywood Hills mansion of disgraced comedian Cubby Tidbits is up for sale. Will one of Hollywood’s best and brightest snatch it up or will the stink of lingering scandal keep it out of rotation?

FRIELING’S (NEXT) FOLLY

Hot off one of 1937’s most overwrought pictures, The End of Hope — which is the most appropriate title I’ve ever heard — superstar producer Lawrence O. Frieling (O for “Overextended”) has announced his company, Frieling International, has plans to produce a costume epic based on the life of wife-murdering Brit royal Henry VIII.

Henry VIII seems the perfect subject for a Frieling film. The man was as bloated as most of Frieling’s pictures.

And which lucky ingenues will be clamoring for the chance to play the king’s doomed wives?

Time will tell — and then I’ll tell you.

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Born Claire Luisa Braun on March 16, 1904 in Carbondale, Illinois, Clara Baskill dreamed of becoming as famous as the stars she would later cover in her syndicated column. However, after years dancing in the chorus and landing small character parts in the movies, she was barely making ends meet. She was becoming more renowned for stories of her famous co-stars’ onset behavior than she ever was for her own acting. These tall tales became the toast of Hollywood parties, soon becoming legendary enough for renowned newspaper publisher, Humphrey Douglas Bradshaw, to offer her a weekly gossip column in his Los Angeles Gazette newspaper.

At its height, Clara Baskill’s Hollywoodland averaged nearly 35 million readers. Hollywood acknowledged her as a direct conduit between stars and their adoring public. Baskill’s pile of cease and desists was as big as her pile of fan letters. From her typewriter, she made celebrities out of nobodies, ground stars into dust, and shined a light on a world whose glamor and intrigue rivaled anything it projected on a silver screen.

Baskill wrote for the Los Angeles Gazette, LA Magnifier, The Angeleno, and Medley. She also published five books over her nearly fifty-year career. She died on October 10, 1992, at the age of 88.