Cosmic Love 1934
“Do not settle for anything less than cosmic love.”
Agnes Moorehead
Hitting The Gas.
I rode a silver wave into 1934 ! I knew 1934 would bring more exposure on the radio, which meant more work and money. I was finally starting to see a return on the investment in the Academy. The ride started January 6th when she performed in a unique “Saturday’s Children” adaptation for the Radio Guild. I loved doing it. Variety was marvelous because nothing ever felt stale. Spring that year was sedate for me, but my successes carried into the summer when I played “Countess Maritza” in the radio operetta by the same name. I got called in at the last minute because someone was ill. I was worried because it was such short notice, but it was highly successful. Except for the reignition of the Zasu Pitts comparison. Suddenly, again, I was deemed “The Zasu Pitts of the Airwaves.”
I did not appreciate the comparison, and it wasn’t because I disliked Zasu; quite the opposite; what I didn’t care for was being typed as a Zasu Pitts type of character actress! Like any performer, I wanted to be seen for who I was and recognized as a singular performer, unlike all the others in every way. But in proper form, I took that negative and made it my own. I turned the tables on the radio during a “Mrs.Whiggs and the Cabbage Patch” performance by giving my character “Mrs. Hazy” Zasu Pitts voice. I was so good that people thought Zasu Pitts played the role. I took that nickname and stood it on its head! I also managed to catch the attention of radio producers and directors. I was a natural mimic, just like I was a natural comedian. It shot me right into the spotlight, and I loved it!
Role After Role.
Before I could blink, doors began to open for me. I was picked up as Minn Gump in the radio serial “The Gumps” in November. A performance immediately followed it in “Cyrano de Bergerac.” From there, I entered the serial “The Girl Next Door” with Barry McKinley. I mimicked everywhere while Barry, the baritone, baritoned everywhere. It was a great success. The chemistry was excellent, and Barry lived next door to us. Oddly enough, though, the studios thought it a good idea that it was rarely mentioned that I was married. If you find an article on me in the papers, you will not find Jack. Radio was marketing me as a single woman. Jack was persona non grata.
In December, I started a new program called “The Rooster Gazette.” It allowed me to get performance time and sharpen my comedic claws. The Gumps also hit the airwaves in December. More shows meant more money, which meant I was free to spend as I saw fit. My climb up the ladder of the best-dressed women on the radio heated up consecutively. Jack and I began climbing the social ladder in New York as December flew on.
Are You Married?
It was 1934 when “The Girl Next Door” aired. Barry McKinley was just becoming well known, and he was my co-star. Barry and I did live next door to each other, and the networks made great press out of it. However, the one thing that wasn’t mentioned was Jack. He was beginning to get irritated over his being removed from my publicity. I wasn’t saleable as a married woman. That went over like a lead balloon. Jack was angry because I was single as far as everyone listening was concerned. The press never mentioned Jack in relation to m unless he escorted her to an event. It was galling, and this situation simmered underneath everything else. He would get quiet and moody, then stomp off to join his friends at a bar. When that happened his coming home was not something I particularly enjoyed. I was on the air day after day. Folks all across America were writing in and asking who the woman on “The Gumps,” “The Girl Next Door,” “Sherlock Holmes Mysteries,” “Evening In Paris,” and “Seth Parker.” There was great interest in me with the fans of the shows. They particularly enjoyed my comedy. I mean, can I help it if I'm funny?
Molly and Grace John and God
As was typical for Mother, January found her with Grace for two weeks. But in March, something unusual happened. Something that hadn’t happened with Mother and Father for five years. They went somewhere together. On March 2nd, they left for Lake Bluff, Illinois. A place the family had traveled to many times before Peggy’s death. It was only sixty miles further to Aurora, Illinois, where they had shipped Peggy off to a mysterious “school.” During their stay, Mother naturally took the time to participate in a recital. Again, she used to do it often but hadn’t done much of it in the last five years. Things seemed to be easing back into some semblance of normalcy for Mother and Papa.
MC Jacky Whack
Jack was reduced to acting as the MC for the Vivian Claire Revue Vermont. At least he was attempting to work. Things being what they were, he seemed content enough, letting Agnes be the breadwinner on the outside. Inside, though, his masculinity was being fractured and chipped away by his inability to support her and her ability to help him emotionally.
Curiously enough, though, on September 15, 1935, Jack managed to end up in an article appearing in the Sunday edition of the Daily News along with mine. At Eastern Services Studios in Astoria, Darryl Zanuck was making motion pictures, and Jack, along with Bottle and Beetle. I worked with them. A woman named Estelle Jayne was going to be in it. Jack’s portion of the film “Soak the Rich” was done in a reproduction of a theater complete with a stage! Jack made it to film with me long before I made it to “Kane” in 1939.
Square Pegs 1935
“Square Peg In A Round Hole, I Am It.” 1935
Agnes Moorehead
I was born to be a schoolteacher.
On June 19, 1935, Agnes Moorehead wrote in a Radio Highlights article: “If there ever was a square peg in a round hole, I am it. I can say unflinchingly that I am radio’s biggest misfit. Everything that happens to me is wrong. In the first place, I was cut out to be a school teacher…” no matter how successful I became, I found a way to display my insecurities and criticize my abilities or looks. I had spent much of my young life being told I wasn’t pretty or that my talent would lead her down the road to ruin. Truthfully, I was insecure; I had always been. When I was younger, I relied on Peggy to be the pretty girl, and I got to be the funny one. I had always used humor to bolster my insecurity and make it appear as if I was unbothered by it all. It did bother me deeply. It bothered me constantly.
I was finally earning enough money to take the next big public step to shore up my view of myself by dressing to the nines whenever I knew I would be seen. I used my fashion sense and continued to use it for the rest of my life to make a statement. I had finally stepped out, tamping down the insecure little girl in my head, and I became the woman who wore her personality for everybody to see.
Showing My Drip
In 1935 there are articles about my elegant dress in the newspaper. Naturally, I cut them out and put them in my scrapbook. Photographs were used in the newspapers to demonstrate her elegance and fashion sense. I had finally accepted that I wanted to be noticed and talked about. Everything about the fashions of the 1930s was practically tailored to me. The dresses were bias cut and draped; they fit me to a T, and I looked stunning. I loved the way women's suits were made in the 30s. They were well structured for my body. With their fluted skirts and ruffled blouses under man-cut jackets, they draped me as if I had been designed to fit the clothes rather than the opposite.
For a girl who grew up in St. Louis, went to college in the middle of nowhere, and taught high school in a place that people who know Wisconsin like the back of their hand couldn’t find, I had what the young people today call DRIP, massive DRIP! The 30s allowed me to become fully committed to wearing fur collars, fur coats, and fur stoles, and I became an outrageous fan of expensive jewelry, be it natural or costume. I could put together things others would look at and think, “My god, I can’t wear that,” and walk out like a runway model during Paris Fashion Week. My dark, auburn-colored hair went with anything it was paired with. There was no color I could not pull off, and I mean no color. I wore hats, pins, hair pins, bunches of silk flowers, and real ones, striking colors that would terrify the average woman, and no matter how odd it seemed before I wore it, if it made the paper, then every other woman in America was going to try it. My strongest appeal was not that she could stop traffic with my beauty but that I could do it with my presence. The women of America loved it. I was seen as a young woman with vitality, wit, and intelligence, and my measure of beauty was all American, just as every woman longed to be. I know it sounds corny, but I was an actress of the people, and the public appreciated it in ways I was just beginning to discover. I was an unintentional feminist with an incredible female following. This made me unique in radio and would continue to make me unique in many fields for many years.
We Have A Roommate?
I began to master the art of controlling my narrative through publicity. In September, an article about Peg appeared in the newspapers. It was an article about Peg’s career, looks, beaus, and roommate, little old me. People have asked why have a roommate when I had been married for years. Furthermore, where was Jack ? Yes, Peg was my roommate, but so was Jack. .If you’re looking for proof, go no further than my library of scrapbooks! In there, you will find a Christmas card that was sent to Jack, myself, and Peg. Peg was a singer and a good one at that. we had great fun together. We saw shows during the summer and vacationed together several times.
I didn’t need a roommate, but it was an economical and I wanted to feel safe in my own home. I loved having Peg around. I didn't like being alone with my husband. He had gotten more and more aggressive. I was fearful of him. Jack flew off the handle at the silliest things. Now and then, he’d get a look in his eyes that sent shivers down my spine. With Peg around, he was uncomfortable getting aggressive with me because there was a witness. Jack had begun drinking a little more than anyone thought he should have. Here’s a copy of the article about Peg and their unique living arrangement from my scrapbook.
August 4, 1935
The Plain Dealer
Cleveland Ohio
Written by: Peg LaCentra
“ I live with Agnes Moorehead, an NBC actress, and we have a delightful group of friends. We think up the maddest things to do for our amusement–just simple things, like watching people in Grand Central Station. And we get the biggest kick out of it–to me, that is much more fun than burning the candle at nightclubs.
All of our friends are what we call “right down to earth.” They are doing things and getting places but don’t take themselves too seriously.
The Third Wheel
Peg started sharing an apartment with Agnes and Jack in 1934/35. Peg was a tiny woman weighing only 98 pounds with blue eyes and golden hair. She was a radio singer from Boston who had relocated to New York in 1931. The earliest record of all three living together in an apartment is in October 1934, when the paper announces that they had taken an apartment together “in the Fifties.” Given the money Aggie was making at that point, they didn’t need a roommate, but Jack had become a tiny bit unpredictable, as I said before. Typically, you don’t send Christmas cards with pictures of yourself, your husband, and your roommate on them. As far as people were concerned, Jack and Agnes were like an old married couple of three people. It’s not typical behavior, but when everybody is happy and safe, it’s sane behavior. Even when speaking of friends, Peg uses the phrase, “All of our friends are what we call “Right down to earth.” They all lived in the same apartment, worked in the same workplace, why not do group Christmas cards, the cards from “our friends” always include their three names Agnes, Peg, and Jacky Whack. Explain it away, I dare you.
When Peg moved in with Jack and Agnes, They lived in Sutton Place, next door to Barry McKinley, with whom Agnes worked. By this point, Aggie had a steady income, and Jack was doing some acting, some selling candy, and some of whatever else he did.
They didn’t need a roommate. But they sure had one. Agnes gifted Peg a Touchwood silver bracelet for luck, and she never took it off! Peg lived with them for at least two years and most likely three. Agnes started saving everything except for private letters unless they were from Jack. He was harmless for the most part. Once she went to Hollywood, Peg did not even send me a Christmas card. She was upset at Aggie’s leaving, and I suspect they had quite the tiff. Even when Peg moved to Hollywood, they still didn’t speak. Make of that what you will.
1935 was a big year for Agnes. She still worked with Barry Mckinley in “The Girl Next Door.” She was on the radio constantly. She was in “Hits and Bits,” became a supporting cast member for the new Helen Hayes serial, and Phil Baker tapped me for “Bottle and Beetle.” That show was the Cadillac Aggie would ride to fame on the radio. By October, she was christened “Chameleon of Ether Waves.” The world woke up to a new Agnes, a woman unafraid to try anything. Her comedic timing and ability to mimic just about anybody sent her shooting up the ladder of success on a bullet.
Still, she managed to keep one foot in the real world. In August, an article appeared explaining how Agnes had taught the sons of Emperor Haile Selassie English. As her fame grew, she never hesitated to remind people that she had been a school teacher in a small Wisconsin town called “Soldiers Grove.” She put that tiny spot on the global map, and the city loved it. Many articles turn up in Wisconsin newspapers, crowing about her time in Soldiers Grove and Reedsburg. Suddenly, the eyes of the world were on Madison, Reedsburg, and Soldiers Grove. She never ceased to be proud of her time in Wisconsin. Agnes wore it like a medal of honor. Wisconsin loved me for it and proudly called her one of their own.
Despite the trip together the year before, Molly and John still lived separate lives in the same house. In March, Grace made her pilgrimage to Columbus for a ten-day stay. John did something he hadn’t done in August for a long time. He headed to New Concord, Ohio, his family's home, and spent a week with his brothers and sister. John loved easter Ohio and loved New Concord in particular. It was his happy place. His brothers worked on his father’s farm. It was that farm that retained the solace John so desperately needed. It allowed him to breathe and relax. John didn’t do this enough after the death of his father and Peggy in 1929. I think the pain was deep and too heavy for him. His father died in April 1929, and his daughter died in July. You can’t run when everything around you reminds you of a loss. By 1935, the wound of his father's passing had healed enough for Johns to go home to the farm and make his peace with all of it.
Bottle and Beetle
In December 1935, I began an association that would fling her into the public eye in the coming years. I worked with a man named Phil Baker. My first appearance me voicing the part of “Tuna Tuna of Tahiti” on Phil Baker’s show. I was hysterical, and Baker loved it.
Embracing Change 1936
“Embrace change. It is the only constant in life.”1936
Agnes Moorehead
In Charge of Lonely Hearts
Phil Baker allegedly paid Agnes 500 bucks a week? Life was good, and 1936 began with a bang!
On January 5th, the airwaves carried a show called “The Great American Tourist” with Bottle and Beetle. The comedic foil was none other than little old Aggie. Phil Baker, the creator of Bottle and Beetle, was a comedian and radio emcee who was a household name. Aggie began working with Phil in December of the previous year. It was his show that allowed her to make the world laugh. She did it with flair, elegance, and a massive helping of perverse hilarity. This was who Agnes was meant to be. It was this show that put the money in her pocket. By September 1936, she earned five hundred dollars a week for her appearances on the show. In 1936, I am sure it felt like a small fortune. Most performers would be content to do that and nothing else, but Aggie wasn’t like most. She continued doing other projects and adding to my pile of money. She took on the role of Anna Bartlet in “Way Down East. Agnes worked with Helen Hayes and Joe Cotton. She did not sit still, ever. Agnes even squeezed in tour dates with Phil Baker. She was eating it up like cake!
December 3, 1936
The Cincinnati Post
Comedienne Gets Funny
Agnes Moorehead, a comedienne who appears regularly for Phil Baker, came across her comic characterization of a disgusted secretary in a peculiar way. Some time ago, while making a business call, Agnes became so annoyed with the affection of the secretary who answered her that she began to mimic her voice. The secretary burst out laughing and said, “Gosh, sister, you sure sound funny.” So Agnes had her character.
Aunt Cam
Aunt Cam was Papa's younger sister. She was a formidable woman. Aunt Cam had opinions about everything and was completely happy to explain her views to them. God help you if you dissent from any of them. My Aunt could talk both your ears off at the same time. Lord, help her; she has this voice! Mind you, Aunt Cam wasn’t a tiny woman, and her voice was as shrill and stridently Victorian as it was attention-grabbing. She would fuss at Papa for everything. When she discovered that I was going to New York, she first said, “John!” “She’ll get her name in the papers!” I said to her smugly, “Aunt Cam, that’s the point of acting.” The look she shot back was withering! My Aunt Cam became a regular part of my one-woman show, and it was a high point that reduced folks to laughter. By the way, her name was a mouthful too, Camilla Urso Moorehead.” Try saying that fast three times. It took me years to learn how to say it without getting one of those withering looks.
Also Starring Jack Lee
In December 1936, Jack once more took to the stage. He was in “The Holmeses of Baker Street.” The role is small, and reviews of Jack’s performance are nowhere to be found. I had nothing but the program for the scrapbooks. But here was a review right below the newspaper cast list, but it gives the show an enthusiastic thumbs down. I must respect his willingness to keep trying, but the show closed on December 20th. Jack was so close to broken. I tried to cheer him up, but that doesn't work very well when the person trying to cheer you up is also the same person whose career makes yours look like a wish sandwich. Jack would just look at me and get angry. He had a load on the majority of the time now, and when I needed him to go somewhere with me, I had to watch him so he’d stay sober. It began to feel more like I was his keeper than his wife. I am sure that he felt it, too.
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