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February 20, 2008
Alma Rubens: Dope Fiend, But Not a Jewess!
Many persons who have followed my career on the screen and stage mistake me for a Jewess. This belief perhaps was strengthened when I married Ricardo Cortez, my third husband, the only one I ever really loved, and whom I am now trying to divorce.
Although I didn't find it out until almost a year after our marriage, Ric, instead of being a gallant Spanish caballero which I believed him, was the son of a kosher butcher, with a shop on First Avenue, New York City. His real name is Jacob Kranz.
Alma Rubens, silent film star turned hopeless drug addict, penned a fascinating, lurid confessional, This Bright World Again, that was serialized in newspapers in 1931.
Alma Rubens, Early Studio Portrait
Her insistence of her non-Jewish roots comes early in Chapter One. She wanted to get the Jewish thing out of the way—fast. She assured her readers that she was of French and Irish ancestry, reared as a strict Catholic. Alma was educated at the Sacred Heart Convent in San Francisco.
But the truth is her father probably was Jewish.
Rubens, in a nasty move for the times, outed her husband Ricardo Cortez, who was poised to become a star. No doubt, Alma wanted to damage his fast rising career. Cortez, now sadly forgotten, played private eye Sam Spade in the original The Maltese Falcon (1931) and he is perfect. Cortez is far more dangerous and charming than the mannered, lip-curling Bogart.
Ricardo Cortez as Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon, 1931
There's another Cortez film, unknown, but truly amazing, Symphony of Six Million, (1932) where he plays a brilliant Jewish surgeon. Is there any other kind? And get this, Irene Dunne plays a Jewish girl from the Lower East Side who is the love of his life. She's got a limp and she teaches blind kids. It's great watching Dunne do Jewish with that Kentucky shicksah twang. The film is unique in that it's the only Hollywood film I've ever seen that has a Pidyon Ha-ben, a Redemption of the First Born ceremony, in the story-line. This film, though melodramatic and at times stiff, is well worth seeking out and screening. It's Hollywood dealing affectionately with Jewish themes and characters before Jewish executives made such narratives almost invisible in American film.
Alma Rubens is truly a lost star of the silent screen, but her memoir, probably ghost-written, is absolutely riveting. It's been edited by Gary D. Rhodes and Alexander Webb and published as Alma Rubens, Silent Snowbird.
Translation: Silent = silent films. Snowbird = female cocaine-user.
As Rhodes and Webb write in their splendid introduction:
By 1918, actress Alma Rubens was a noted screen personality. By 1920, she was a major star. By 1929, she was hospitalized for drug abuse. By 1931, she was dead from its effects. Little more is generally said of Rubens, one of the great female stars of the emergent feature film industry of the 1910's and one whose popularity continued over a fifteen year period.
Rubens, exquisitely doe-eyed, dark-haired, and yes, she does look Jewish, broke into the film industry in 1914 with appearances in two three-reelers, The Narcotic Spectre and The Gangster and the Girl. In 1915 Rubens starred in The Lorelia Madonna produced by Vitagraph. Rubens got strong reviews for this film and producers noticed. D.W. Grifffith cast her in Intolerance (1916) as one of the girls of the marriage market in the Babylonian sequence. She worked with cowboy star William S. Hart in The Cold Deck, (1917).
From these associations, Rubens was offered a contract with Triangle, the studio formed by D.W. Griffith, Mack Sennet, and Thomas Ince. Rubens starred in films opposite Bessie Love and Douglas Fairbanks. Ironically, the three actors appeared in one of the most notorious pictures of the silent era, The Mystery of the Leaping Fish (1916) in which Fairbanks is a cocaine using detective named “Coke Ennyday.”
From 1918 until 1925 Alma Rubens became a Hollywood star before stardom was understood, before Hollywood celebrity was common. Her acting style was easy and naturalistic. She was comfortable in front of the camera and didn't display the formal stiffness that characterized so many early film stars. In a way, Alma was the girl next door. Except she was drop-dead gorgeous, sensuous without the threatening Theda Bara vamp thing that was all the rage at the time. Interesting to note that the studios promoted Bara as the exotic Egyptian-born daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor. In fact, Bara was a smart and ambitious young Jewish woman from Cincinnati: Theodosia Burr Goodman.
Typical of so many Hollywood women, Alma Rubens was impoverished and fatherless for most of her childhood. Her love life was a series of disastrous, ill-considered marriages. She married stage actor Franklyn Farnum in 1918. He was 20 years her senior. The marriage lasted about two weeks. He was, she said, drunken, and violent. In 1923 she married Dr. Daniel Carson Goodman, but separated after a few months. He too she charged as physically violent and mentally abusive. While working for Fox in 1926, she married Cortez.
Her mother, Teresa, was a powerful influence who manged to sock away money and buy some valuable real estate. Rubens, in her memoir, admits that if not for her mother's wise investments, all her Hollywood earning would have gone into her veins.
Alma Rubens, glamour portrait
Rubens claims that her addiction to morphine began in 1923, after marriage to Dr. Daniel Carson Goodman, screenwriter and head of production for Hearst's Cosmopolitan Pictures. Rubens has just signed a contract for a thousand dollars a week.
Then came an illness, painful and nerve-wracking, though of short duration, but which proved to be the ultimate stumbling block upon which my career was wrecked.
It marked the beginning of my addiction to the use of narcotic drugs.
So, what exactly was the nature of Ruben's illness?
Ruben's goes on to explain:
My first shot of morphine, administered to ease my suffering, was given me by Dr. A., now one of the leading gynecologists in the country and a professor in one of our great universities.
Later, when my husband learned the exact nature of the treatment for my womanly weakness—the use of morphine—he called in another great physician, Dr. B., who said it would be a crime to operate on a girl of my tender age—and conceded that his contemporary's treatment was a most proper one.
Womanly weakness.
There is no further explanation.
But a friend who is a physician has this compelling diagnosis:
Rubens may have been referring to Endometriosis, a gynecologic condition where there is thought to be hormonally responsive tissue within the abdomen (endometrial fragments, hence the name), which can become extremely painful at different times during a woman's cycle.
In the days before hormonal therapy injections, and even now, when hormones don't work, narcotics were often prescribed.
The definitive surgical therapy—drastic, last resort, but 100% curative—is ovarian removal, but completely understandable why physicians would be reluctant to perform this on so young a woman.
We know that Rubens was first arrested for narcotics possession as early as 1919, so clearly she was using before she was given her first shot of morphine in 1923 as she claims.
Okay, addicts lie. They like to blame others for their addictions. No surprise there. But let's give Alma the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was just partying like so many Hollywood starlets then and now, and only seriously got hooked later on.
Rubens blames only herself for becoming a “dope fiend.”
A weak, worldly girl, who hadn't sufficient will power to cast aside the treacherous needle; the insiduous [sic] liquid, responsible for my loathesome [sic] yearning.
Shockingly frank about her frequent violence, Rubens stabs a physician with a pen knife as he attempts to treat her. When she comes home from a sanitarium, pretending that she's cured, she snarls to her mother and husband Ricardo Cortez: “You're both fools. I'm still an addict. And now I'm going straight to hell.”
Rubens then marches right into her bedroom and shoots up with narcotics she purchased from a corrupt sanitarium physician.
Talk about a full service treatment center.
The actress tracks down a black maid she recently fired for dishonesty from her Beverly Hills home. Rubens trades a $4,000 mink coat for a few day's supply of dope. Rubens catches the look of perfect revenge on her former maid's face as the exchange is finalized. Soon, Rubens is handing over expensive evening gowns, sable and ermine capes, silk lingerie and fine jewelry. Most of the time, Rubens sadly admits, she gets just enough narcotics to get through a few days.
Alma Rubens, studio portrait
There are wild, public incidents. Frequent violent outbursts. There's a loud, drunken orgy in a hotel room. Court orders to have Rubens committed are filed by Ruben's mother. Counter appeals are filed by Alma. At last, an ambulance pulls up to her ranch, Rubens is strapped into a strait jacket and whisked away for a “cure.” Before you know it Rubens escapes and hides away in a cheap hotel with a supply of dope, bathtub gin, and some bad boy junkie she's picked up G-d knows where. Reporters from The New York Times get wind of her addiction and start tracking her descent. It's a life so out of control that when she writes about the fist-sized infected abscesses on her thighs, I literally shivered. Reading the memoir I had a hard time believing that this was taking place in the roaring twenties and not today, in the Hollywood Hills or some crime-ridden ghetto.
Of course, like so many true confessions, much of what Alma writes is self-serving, and the reader has to pluck kernels of truth from some pretty sensational fiction cooked up by professional ghost writers anxious to sell a sordid yarn in order to boost newspaper circulation. But the core of the memoir reeks of truth—she's a sad, desperate Hollywood type I recognize—and Rubens pulls no punches as she details a harrowing plunge into addiction and moral chaos.
Alma's addiction became public knowledge in 1929 and film roles dried up. She played Julie in the 1929 part-talkie Show Boat. But really, it was all over. Her angelic looks were ravaged by drugs and hard-living.
In 1930 she was arrested in San Diego with narcotics found sewn in the lining of an evening gown. She had purchased the dope in Mexico and tried to smuggle it back into America. Rubens claimed that she was framed.
A few weeks later, Alma Rubens (February 19, 1897- January 22, 1931) died of drug-induced pneumonia. She was 33 years old.
Seraphic Secret Hollywood Profiles of Interest:
Wallace Reid: Hollywood Shooting Star
Olive Thomas: Hollywood's First Suicide
Mary Pickford: The Greatest Movie Star
Seraphic Secret Chats with Actress Coleen Gray about John Wayne, Howard Hawks, and Stanley Kubrick.
Susan Peters: The Unknown & Tragic Great Actress
The Blond Machine Gun: Jean Harlow
Peg Entwistle & The Hollywood Sign
Brigitte Bardot & Sean Connery in Shalako, Sorta
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at February 20, 2008 12:52 PM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
It is sad to see how history continues repeat itself.
Posted by: Jack at February 20, 2008 09:46 PM
Jack:
Welcome to Hollywood.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.seraphicpress.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at February 20, 2008 09:50 PM
Maybe you could send Britney a copy of the book. Actually, the audio version might be necessary.
Posted by: Baila at February 21, 2008 04:45 AM
Baila:
Britney: definitely not a Jewess. Nebbuch, if Britney read this book her head might explode.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 21, 2008 10:03 AM
She should have become a jazz musician.
Posted by: Jeremiah at February 21, 2008 01:38 PM
Robert,
I am actually a rare breed, born and bred here in the fabulous City of Angels.
Anyway, the point of this comment is that a prospective client of mine asked what life is like in Hollywood so I referred him to your blog for the inside scoop.
Posted by: Jack at February 21, 2008 01:41 PM
"Reality is for people who can't handle drugs."
Posted by: Jeremiah at February 21, 2008 01:47 PM
Jeremiah:
In her memoir, Rubens writes about shooting dope and dancing to "wild Jazz."
She also frequently goes to the "Negro" sections of Los Angeles to get drugs in clubs. No doubt she heard plenty of Jazz there too.
Alma was a true liberal, junkie that is. She spent plenty of time in the "Chinese" section of town where she "took the pipe," smoked opium. No mention of Jazz.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 21, 2008 05:34 PM
Jack:
Was your client reassured by our blog, or did he feel the urge to move to, oh, say Helsinki?
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 21, 2008 05:37 PM
Jeremiah:
Who said that?
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 21, 2008 05:39 PM
He has a new appreciation for the Gun Slingin, screenwritin, historian of Hollywood. ;)
Overall I think that he appreciate it.
He wanted to know if you were familiar with The Ballad of Irving.
Posted by: Jack at February 21, 2008 06:34 PM
Jack:
I was not. I am now. Thank your friend for the link. I needed that:)
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 21, 2008 10:37 PM
It's probably a common, uh, witticism by now. I heard long ago from a UC Santa Cruz undergraduate student.
Posted by: Jeremiah at February 22, 2008 12:24 AM
Seraphic University is at it again with it's "Advanced Film Studies" course. Thanks for the insight; interesting info about Theda Bara too.
And on that note, I want to ask and understand something, as it was asked of me this week, too: Why do you think, or has anyone ever come up with a theory as to why so many Jews entered the film industry in Hollywood, especially in the early days of studios starting up? Inquiring minds want to know...
Posted by: Pearl at February 22, 2008 05:36 AM
Jeremiah:
It's so common I've never heard it before. Thanks.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 22, 2008 10:16 AM
Pearl:
Glad you enjoyed the post.
The "flickers" were a new and disreputable business. Wide open for ambitious and smart immigrants anxious to make it in the golden medinah.
Strongly recommend Neal Gabler's fine study: “An Empire of Their Own: How Jews Invented Hollywood.”
http://www.amazon.com/Empire-Their-Own-Invented-Hollywood/dp/0385265573
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 22, 2008 10:20 AM
Love the Hollywood bio series.... Am slowly but surely catching up on them. :)
Posted by: Gila at February 23, 2008 09:45 AM
Never realized that "flick" came from "flicker," and that's with having read Ted Roscak's Flicker. Dumb. Thanks for enlightening me.
Posted by: kishke at February 23, 2008 04:24 PM
Gila:
So glad you are enjoying our Hollywood profiles. The point is to educate friends about forgotten stars, and to remind movie lovers that Hollywood is much the same now as it was over 80 years ago. As King Solomon wisely says in Koheles: “There is nothing new under the sun.”
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 23, 2008 09:25 PM
Kishke:
You're very welcome. We are the, ahem, l'havdeel, tosfos, of Hollywood history.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 23, 2008 09:39 PM
Thanks for referring me to the Neil Gabler book (in hindsight, I think I once referred you to it in one of my comments!). I took a peek at it on Amazon and at its reviews. Through seeing those reviews I learned about another MOT: the late Lee J. Cobb (the J. Cobb had been a play on his original last name: Jacob).
I'll seek out a copy of the book.
Posted by: Pearl at February 24, 2008 05:59 AM
Pearl:
Great book, thanks for the referral. Now it's your turn to read it:)
Hollywood rule #1: Everybody is Jewish until proven otherwise.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 24, 2008 03:38 PM
I love your profiles of forgotten stars of the 1920s. Thank you for yet another wonderful addition to the series.
Posted by: Bookworm at February 26, 2008 08:27 PM
Bookworm:
You're very welcome. I love doing the research and pulling it all together. Amazing how really, nothing much has chanqed.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at February 26, 2008 09:10 PM