quarta-feira, 23 de junho de 2010
At this time, Gladys and Grace were living in a very small apartment in Hollywood. Norma Jeane had
been there before. Occasionally, Gladys would pick her up at the Bolenders’ and bring her to her home
for an awkward visit or sleepover. Marilyn would later say that she spent most of this time with her
mother “in the closet of her bedroom hiding among her clothes. She seldom spoke to me except to say,
‘Don’t make so much noise, Norma.’ She would say this even when I was lying in bed at night and
turning the pages of a book. Even the sound of a page turning made her nervous.”
Now, suddenly, mother and daughter were expected to forge a happy relationship. It wouldn’t be easy.
After all, they didn’t even really know each other. Once Norma Jeane began living with her, Gladys
became convinced that the girl was unhappy. “She spent seven years living on a spacious farm, and
now this?” she asked Grace. “I’m sure she’s miserable here.” In fact, Gladys was not wrong. Norma
Jeane missed her Aunt Ida terribly, as well as her foster siblings. She was just a little girl who had been
uprooted from the only life she’d known, the only people she’d ever loved. It must have seemed so
unfair. She certainly couldn’t hide her emotions about it, even if they did upset her mother. “Are we
going to visit Aunt Ida soon?” she kept asking. However, Gladys and Grace had made the decision that
it would be best if they not allow Norma Jeane to spend any more time at the Bolenders’. They felt it
would just make her adjustment to her new life all the more difficult.
“Meanwhile, Gladys’s depression was deepening during this time and she seemed more confused than
ever,” said Esther Thompson, whose mother, Ruth, worked with Grace at Consolidated. The two were
very close friends. “She said she needed more time to make some changes. She wanted to be more
settled and possibly even be living in a house when she finally had her daughter in her care. Then
Grace, who believed that anything was possible, encouraged her that such a thing could happen if they
just put their heads together.”
It’s interesting that Grace McKee felt so certain she and Gladys would be able to buy a home, given
that the economy in America was in such desperate shape in 1933. Almost fifteen million Americans
were unemployed. Of these, about two million were wandering aimlessly about the country in search of
work. Hundreds of thousands of people were homeless, living in tents or abandoned ramshackle
dwellings. Banks in thirty-eight states were forced to close as anxious investors began withdrawing all
of their deposits. It’s almost impossible to imagine the country in such turmoil, but indeed the Great
Depression was a devastating time in our history. From the beginning, America’s new president, fiftyone-
year-old Franklin Delano Roosevelt, tried to restore popular confidence. “The only thing we have
to fear,” he said in his inaugural address in March 1933, “is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning,
unjustified terror.” One thing was certain about Grace McKee, and that was that she was fearless. Her
confidence that she would find a way inspired Gladys to believe that maybe their future would be a
bright one, despite what was going on all around them.
Therefore, it was the two women’s decision to give Norma Jeane to yet another foster family—the
Atkinsons—but just temporarily. George and Maud Atkinson, both English, were in the periphery of
show business as bit players in films. George had also worked as a stand-in for George Arliss, the
distinguished British actor and the first Brit to win an Academy Award as Best Actor. He and Maud had
a young daughter named Nellie who was around Norma’s age. It was decided that Norma Jeane could
be happy with them while Gladys and Grace strategized their next move.
been there before. Occasionally, Gladys would pick her up at the Bolenders’ and bring her to her home
for an awkward visit or sleepover. Marilyn would later say that she spent most of this time with her
mother “in the closet of her bedroom hiding among her clothes. She seldom spoke to me except to say,
‘Don’t make so much noise, Norma.’ She would say this even when I was lying in bed at night and
turning the pages of a book. Even the sound of a page turning made her nervous.”
Now, suddenly, mother and daughter were expected to forge a happy relationship. It wouldn’t be easy.
After all, they didn’t even really know each other. Once Norma Jeane began living with her, Gladys
became convinced that the girl was unhappy. “She spent seven years living on a spacious farm, and
now this?” she asked Grace. “I’m sure she’s miserable here.” In fact, Gladys was not wrong. Norma
Jeane missed her Aunt Ida terribly, as well as her foster siblings. She was just a little girl who had been
uprooted from the only life she’d known, the only people she’d ever loved. It must have seemed so
unfair. She certainly couldn’t hide her emotions about it, even if they did upset her mother. “Are we
going to visit Aunt Ida soon?” she kept asking. However, Gladys and Grace had made the decision that
it would be best if they not allow Norma Jeane to spend any more time at the Bolenders’. They felt it
would just make her adjustment to her new life all the more difficult.
“Meanwhile, Gladys’s depression was deepening during this time and she seemed more confused than
ever,” said Esther Thompson, whose mother, Ruth, worked with Grace at Consolidated. The two were
very close friends. “She said she needed more time to make some changes. She wanted to be more
settled and possibly even be living in a house when she finally had her daughter in her care. Then
Grace, who believed that anything was possible, encouraged her that such a thing could happen if they
just put their heads together.”
It’s interesting that Grace McKee felt so certain she and Gladys would be able to buy a home, given
that the economy in America was in such desperate shape in 1933. Almost fifteen million Americans
were unemployed. Of these, about two million were wandering aimlessly about the country in search of
work. Hundreds of thousands of people were homeless, living in tents or abandoned ramshackle
dwellings. Banks in thirty-eight states were forced to close as anxious investors began withdrawing all
of their deposits. It’s almost impossible to imagine the country in such turmoil, but indeed the Great
Depression was a devastating time in our history. From the beginning, America’s new president, fiftyone-
year-old Franklin Delano Roosevelt, tried to restore popular confidence. “The only thing we have
to fear,” he said in his inaugural address in March 1933, “is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning,
unjustified terror.” One thing was certain about Grace McKee, and that was that she was fearless. Her
confidence that she would find a way inspired Gladys to believe that maybe their future would be a
bright one, despite what was going on all around them.
Therefore, it was the two women’s decision to give Norma Jeane to yet another foster family—the
Atkinsons—but just temporarily. George and Maud Atkinson, both English, were in the periphery of
show business as bit players in films. George had also worked as a stand-in for George Arliss, the
distinguished British actor and the first Brit to win an Academy Award as Best Actor. He and Maud had
a young daughter named Nellie who was around Norma’s age. It was decided that Norma Jeane could
be happy with them while Gladys and Grace strategized their next move.
Born Clara Grace Atchinson in Montana, she was thirty-seven in 1933. Grace—a two-time divorcee by
then—was a petite woman like Gladys, barely five feet tall. * In fact, they were able to wear the same
clothes, and they often did. She was known for her personal magnetism. When Grace was in a room, it
was difficult not to focus on her, so powerful was her presence. Although not beautiful in the accepted
sense of the word, she was so vital and charismatic she gave the impression of beauty. Her wavy hair
was usually dyed a peroxide blonde but sometimes left to its original brown color. She also had deepset
brown eyes and a thin mouth usually curled into a smile. Grace aspired to become an actress, but
though she had plenty of ambition and maybe even some talent, she would never apply herself to that
goal. She once wrote to a cousin, “If I could only have Jean Harlow’s life, what a good time I would
have. To be an actress is my dream, I guess. I don’t know that it could happen. But, still, I can dream,
can’t I?”
Grace and Gladys got along famously, even though they obviously did have their problems from time
to time. It’s a testament to Grace’s loyalty to Gladys that they were able to get past that troubling
stabbing incident, shortly after Norma Jeane was born. Both were good-time gals in the Roaring
Twenties and as such had no problem finding bootleg liquor and men. To say that they merely enjoyed
their flapper-girl lifestyles would be to understate their fun times. “We have FUN,” Grace wrote to her
cousin, making sure to capitalize each letter in the word.
Moreover, Gladys began to depend on Grace for direction and advice in almost all areas of her life.
With Della gone, she needed someone to lean on, and for now that would be Grace. They started acting
as a team, making joint decisions about their lives. Grace was smart and self-sufficient, and she always
felt she knew the solution to every problem—not just her own, but everyone else’s as well. She felt
compelled to give people advice, even those who didn’t ask for it. It was one of the reasons her
marriages had not worked out. For instance, she’d often start a conversation with the statement, “You
know what your problem is?” Then she would proceed to explain the “problem” whether a solution was
asked for or not. Gladys, who never had a guiding maternal influence, gravitated to Grace and
appreciated that her best friend cared enough about her to offer advice.
“In many ways, Grace lived her life through others,” Bea Thomas, who knew Grace, observed in 1976.
“Some felt she wasn’t particularly attractive and that she tried to do for others what she couldn’t do for
herself in terms of beauty. She had an inner beauty, though, and you can see it from her photos.
However, she gave Gladys a complete makeover. When she told her that her brunette hair made her
look ‘mousy’ and suggested bright red as a more suitable color, Gladys promptly dyed her hair. When
she told Gladys that her clothing style was too conservative and suggested she be more provocative,
Gladys agreed. The two went shopping for new dresses and it was Grace—not Gladys—who selected
each one of them. Grace also felt that Gladys’s vocabulary should be expanded, and often corrected her
grammar when the two were with friends. Grace couldn’t have children, so she encouraged Gladys to
take more responsibility for Norma Jeane.”
then—was a petite woman like Gladys, barely five feet tall. * In fact, they were able to wear the same
clothes, and they often did. She was known for her personal magnetism. When Grace was in a room, it
was difficult not to focus on her, so powerful was her presence. Although not beautiful in the accepted
sense of the word, she was so vital and charismatic she gave the impression of beauty. Her wavy hair
was usually dyed a peroxide blonde but sometimes left to its original brown color. She also had deepset
brown eyes and a thin mouth usually curled into a smile. Grace aspired to become an actress, but
though she had plenty of ambition and maybe even some talent, she would never apply herself to that
goal. She once wrote to a cousin, “If I could only have Jean Harlow’s life, what a good time I would
have. To be an actress is my dream, I guess. I don’t know that it could happen. But, still, I can dream,
can’t I?”
Grace and Gladys got along famously, even though they obviously did have their problems from time
to time. It’s a testament to Grace’s loyalty to Gladys that they were able to get past that troubling
stabbing incident, shortly after Norma Jeane was born. Both were good-time gals in the Roaring
Twenties and as such had no problem finding bootleg liquor and men. To say that they merely enjoyed
their flapper-girl lifestyles would be to understate their fun times. “We have FUN,” Grace wrote to her
cousin, making sure to capitalize each letter in the word.
Moreover, Gladys began to depend on Grace for direction and advice in almost all areas of her life.
With Della gone, she needed someone to lean on, and for now that would be Grace. They started acting
as a team, making joint decisions about their lives. Grace was smart and self-sufficient, and she always
felt she knew the solution to every problem—not just her own, but everyone else’s as well. She felt
compelled to give people advice, even those who didn’t ask for it. It was one of the reasons her
marriages had not worked out. For instance, she’d often start a conversation with the statement, “You
know what your problem is?” Then she would proceed to explain the “problem” whether a solution was
asked for or not. Gladys, who never had a guiding maternal influence, gravitated to Grace and
appreciated that her best friend cared enough about her to offer advice.
“In many ways, Grace lived her life through others,” Bea Thomas, who knew Grace, observed in 1976.
“Some felt she wasn’t particularly attractive and that she tried to do for others what she couldn’t do for
herself in terms of beauty. She had an inner beauty, though, and you can see it from her photos.
However, she gave Gladys a complete makeover. When she told her that her brunette hair made her
look ‘mousy’ and suggested bright red as a more suitable color, Gladys promptly dyed her hair. When
she told Gladys that her clothing style was too conservative and suggested she be more provocative,
Gladys agreed. The two went shopping for new dresses and it was Grace—not Gladys—who selected
each one of them. Grace also felt that Gladys’s vocabulary should be expanded, and often corrected her
grammar when the two were with friends. Grace couldn’t have children, so she encouraged Gladys to
take more responsibility for Norma Jeane.”
This was not an easy decision for Ida. “She loved her,” said one of her relatives, “but I think she began
to feel as if she was failing where Norma Jeane was concerned. She took the child’s fragility as an
indication that she had not done what she set out to do with her, which was to make her stronger. But
Norma Jeane was strong. She was just a girl. She was very sensitive, very vulnerable… and that’s what
threw Ida off, I think.”
The next day, Norma Jeane was told that her mother was on her way and that she would be taking her
home with her. This was confusing. “But I am home,” Norma Jeane said. “Yes you are,” Ida told her,
“and you can come back anytime you want to.”
Still quietly sniffling through tearful moments for the rest of the day, the little girl kept her eyes fixed
on the street outside the front window waiting for the mysterious—and sometimes even scary—woman
who had come from time to time to visit and promise her a good life “someday.”
Silent and focused only on getting the job done in an efficient manner, Ida packed a little suitcase for
Norma Jeane, just a few things. Then she called her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table for a
talk. “I want you to know that we’ll always be here for you,” she told her, according to a later
recollection. She spoke very slowly as if to give more weight to her words. “We’ll always love you,”
she added reassuringly. “But we just think that it’s time for you to know your mother. Your real mother.
Do you understand?” As Ida spoke to Norma Jeane, all of the other foster children were grouped in the
living room, crying. The noise must have driven Ida crazy. Clearly, no one wanted to see Norma Jeane
go, even though the time had come for her departure. Ida began to rethink things. Was this really the
right decision? Perhaps she was being hasty? Should she call Gladys back and say she had changed her
mind? No. She had always been decisive and now was not the time to change.
Finally, Gladys pulled up in front of the Bolender home and tooted her vehicle’s horn. She didn’t get
out of the car.
Inside the house, Ida put Norma Jeane’s coat on her and buttoned it. Bending down to her eye level, she
put strong hands on narrow shoulders. Her eyes filled with sudden warmth as she gazed at her sad
foster child, this girl she’d known and loved since infancy. She hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you,
Norma Jeane,” she said. Then, handing her the small suitcase, she sent her on her way.
With a very troubled look on her little face, Norma Jeane walked down the sidewalk and got into the
car with a woman she thought of as a stranger. She didn’t sit in the front seat next to her, though.
Rather, she opened a rear door and got into the back of the vehicle. Then, peering out the window as
the car drove off, she watched the only mother she’d ever known fade into the distance. Norma Jeane
Mortensen had no idea where she was going. She only hoped that wherever it was, it would be… home.
A New—and Temporary—Life
When Gladys Baker picked up her daughter from the Bolenders, she did not arrive alone. With her was
her close friend who had once babysat Norma Jeane, the woman who, as it would turn out, would
become a key figure in the young girl’s life, Grace Atchinson McKee. She was Gladys’s roommate for
some time and worked with her at Consolidated Studios, also as a splicer, or “cutter,” of film negatives.
Consolidated was a film laboratory and processing company, the leader in its industry for many
decades in Los Angeles. Finally, Gladys was making a good wage there and was able to settle into a
more stable life. It was tedious work, though. Basically, she spent six days a week reviewing endless
rolls of film negatives in order to cut the sections that had been previously marked by studio editors.
She then handed the material over to another department for the final splicing. The walls of the
building in which she worked were thick cement with not many windows. There was no air
conditioning, and at times it was absolutely stifling inside. However, it was a steady job, and that was
all that mattered. She’d also made a good friend there, Grace.
to feel as if she was failing where Norma Jeane was concerned. She took the child’s fragility as an
indication that she had not done what she set out to do with her, which was to make her stronger. But
Norma Jeane was strong. She was just a girl. She was very sensitive, very vulnerable… and that’s what
threw Ida off, I think.”
The next day, Norma Jeane was told that her mother was on her way and that she would be taking her
home with her. This was confusing. “But I am home,” Norma Jeane said. “Yes you are,” Ida told her,
“and you can come back anytime you want to.”
Still quietly sniffling through tearful moments for the rest of the day, the little girl kept her eyes fixed
on the street outside the front window waiting for the mysterious—and sometimes even scary—woman
who had come from time to time to visit and promise her a good life “someday.”
Silent and focused only on getting the job done in an efficient manner, Ida packed a little suitcase for
Norma Jeane, just a few things. Then she called her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table for a
talk. “I want you to know that we’ll always be here for you,” she told her, according to a later
recollection. She spoke very slowly as if to give more weight to her words. “We’ll always love you,”
she added reassuringly. “But we just think that it’s time for you to know your mother. Your real mother.
Do you understand?” As Ida spoke to Norma Jeane, all of the other foster children were grouped in the
living room, crying. The noise must have driven Ida crazy. Clearly, no one wanted to see Norma Jeane
go, even though the time had come for her departure. Ida began to rethink things. Was this really the
right decision? Perhaps she was being hasty? Should she call Gladys back and say she had changed her
mind? No. She had always been decisive and now was not the time to change.
Finally, Gladys pulled up in front of the Bolender home and tooted her vehicle’s horn. She didn’t get
out of the car.
Inside the house, Ida put Norma Jeane’s coat on her and buttoned it. Bending down to her eye level, she
put strong hands on narrow shoulders. Her eyes filled with sudden warmth as she gazed at her sad
foster child, this girl she’d known and loved since infancy. She hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you,
Norma Jeane,” she said. Then, handing her the small suitcase, she sent her on her way.
With a very troubled look on her little face, Norma Jeane walked down the sidewalk and got into the
car with a woman she thought of as a stranger. She didn’t sit in the front seat next to her, though.
Rather, she opened a rear door and got into the back of the vehicle. Then, peering out the window as
the car drove off, she watched the only mother she’d ever known fade into the distance. Norma Jeane
Mortensen had no idea where she was going. She only hoped that wherever it was, it would be… home.
A New—and Temporary—Life
When Gladys Baker picked up her daughter from the Bolenders, she did not arrive alone. With her was
her close friend who had once babysat Norma Jeane, the woman who, as it would turn out, would
become a key figure in the young girl’s life, Grace Atchinson McKee. She was Gladys’s roommate for
some time and worked with her at Consolidated Studios, also as a splicer, or “cutter,” of film negatives.
Consolidated was a film laboratory and processing company, the leader in its industry for many
decades in Los Angeles. Finally, Gladys was making a good wage there and was able to settle into a
more stable life. It was tedious work, though. Basically, she spent six days a week reviewing endless
rolls of film negatives in order to cut the sections that had been previously marked by studio editors.
She then handed the material over to another department for the final splicing. The walls of the
building in which she worked were thick cement with not many windows. There was no air
conditioning, and at times it was absolutely stifling inside. However, it was a steady job, and that was
all that mattered. She’d also made a good friend there, Grace.
By June 1933, shortly after her seventh birthday, Norma Jeane’s life was settled—such as it was. Yes,
there were problems at the Bo-lender home, but it was all that she knew and she was fine there. She got
along with her foster siblings and also had one faithful friend who was always there for her and never
once brought her anything but joy: her pet dog, Tippy.
Sadly, however, a tragedy involving Tippy would be the catalyst to Norma Jeane’s departure from the
Bolender home. As the story goes—and it’s been told countless times over the years in different
variations—a neighbor of the Bolenders became annoyed by the dog’s constant barking. In Marilyn’s
memoir, she writes that the neighbor, finally fed up and in a moment of fury, attacked the dog with a
hoe, savagely cutting Tippy in half.
A Bolender family member explained that what really happened was that Tippy was hit by a car and
killed. Ida, having witnessed the event, didn’t want the dead animal continually run over in the street.
Therefore, using a garden hoe, she lifted the carcass and dropped it on the driveway. She wanted
nothing more to do with it, and decided that the gruesome task of disposing of the pet should wait for
Wayne’s return. However, before Wayne got home, Norma Jeane showed up after playing with some
friends down the street. Obviously, she was devastated by the sight of her best friend’s dead body,
mangled and lying in the driveway with a nearby garden tool seemingly part of the macabre scene. She
let out a shriek, burst into tears, and ran into the house. For the next few hours, it was impossible for
Ida to calm her down.
Ida, in an attempt to make the pain of the dog’s death seem more bearable to Norma Jeane, explained
that some unknown party had shot Tippy in the head and that his death was immediate. She thought
that if the girl believed that not much suffering had been involved, she would feel better. However,
Norma Jeane refused to believe Ida and had invented her own story. “Tippy was cut up with a hoe,”
Norma Jeane insisted through her tears. “The neighbors finally killed him!”
Ida tried everything she could think of to shake that scenario from Norma Jeane’s mind, even telling
her the truth at one point. It didn’t work. The girl was absolutely convinced that the neighbors had been
plotting her dog’s death for some time and had finally succeeded at it. Ida found this very disturbing—
maybe even paranoid. “Ida wondered if Norma Jeane was starting to have delusions like her mother,
Gladys,” explains a relative, “because she wouldn’t let go of this crazy idea that the neighbors had
hacked up her dog. On some level, I think Ida had always been afraid of Gladys… and now she was
wondering about her daughter. She had become very uneasy about it.”
Norma Jeane’s paroxysm lasted into the next day, with the family enjoying silence only during her
slumber. Ida had a real problem with this kind of expression of emotion. Actually, she’d recently begun
to wonder if she had even been put on this earth to raise such a sensitive child. This certainly hadn’t
been the first time Norma Jeane became upset when something in her little world went awry. Ida started
to wonder if perhaps her influence was backfiring. While her goal had always been to strengthen
Norma Jeane, maybe her firm hand and distant affection was actually having a negative effect on the
girl. Had it created a child who would spin out of control when faced with any emotional trauma?
It seems clear now that Ida was confused and felt she was at a crossroads with her foster daughter. She
had once believed she and Wayne would adopt the girl. However, Gladys had again made it clear that
this would not be the case. In fact, in recent months, Gladys had started saying that she wanted Norma
Jeane back. Stalling, Ida always had an excuse as to why the girl could not be returned—she was in
school, she had made friends, she was not feeling well. Finally, Ida decided that perhaps the time had
come. Norma Jeane was already distraught, Ida told Wayne, so why not let her traumatizing memory of
her dog’s death blend with the difficulty she would suffer during a transfer of custody? The next
afternoon, she telephoned Gladys. “I think it would be best now if you came and took Norma Jeane,”
she told her. “She’s very upset. I think she needs her mother.”
there were problems at the Bo-lender home, but it was all that she knew and she was fine there. She got
along with her foster siblings and also had one faithful friend who was always there for her and never
once brought her anything but joy: her pet dog, Tippy.
Sadly, however, a tragedy involving Tippy would be the catalyst to Norma Jeane’s departure from the
Bolender home. As the story goes—and it’s been told countless times over the years in different
variations—a neighbor of the Bolenders became annoyed by the dog’s constant barking. In Marilyn’s
memoir, she writes that the neighbor, finally fed up and in a moment of fury, attacked the dog with a
hoe, savagely cutting Tippy in half.
A Bolender family member explained that what really happened was that Tippy was hit by a car and
killed. Ida, having witnessed the event, didn’t want the dead animal continually run over in the street.
Therefore, using a garden hoe, she lifted the carcass and dropped it on the driveway. She wanted
nothing more to do with it, and decided that the gruesome task of disposing of the pet should wait for
Wayne’s return. However, before Wayne got home, Norma Jeane showed up after playing with some
friends down the street. Obviously, she was devastated by the sight of her best friend’s dead body,
mangled and lying in the driveway with a nearby garden tool seemingly part of the macabre scene. She
let out a shriek, burst into tears, and ran into the house. For the next few hours, it was impossible for
Ida to calm her down.
Ida, in an attempt to make the pain of the dog’s death seem more bearable to Norma Jeane, explained
that some unknown party had shot Tippy in the head and that his death was immediate. She thought
that if the girl believed that not much suffering had been involved, she would feel better. However,
Norma Jeane refused to believe Ida and had invented her own story. “Tippy was cut up with a hoe,”
Norma Jeane insisted through her tears. “The neighbors finally killed him!”
Ida tried everything she could think of to shake that scenario from Norma Jeane’s mind, even telling
her the truth at one point. It didn’t work. The girl was absolutely convinced that the neighbors had been
plotting her dog’s death for some time and had finally succeeded at it. Ida found this very disturbing—
maybe even paranoid. “Ida wondered if Norma Jeane was starting to have delusions like her mother,
Gladys,” explains a relative, “because she wouldn’t let go of this crazy idea that the neighbors had
hacked up her dog. On some level, I think Ida had always been afraid of Gladys… and now she was
wondering about her daughter. She had become very uneasy about it.”
Norma Jeane’s paroxysm lasted into the next day, with the family enjoying silence only during her
slumber. Ida had a real problem with this kind of expression of emotion. Actually, she’d recently begun
to wonder if she had even been put on this earth to raise such a sensitive child. This certainly hadn’t
been the first time Norma Jeane became upset when something in her little world went awry. Ida started
to wonder if perhaps her influence was backfiring. While her goal had always been to strengthen
Norma Jeane, maybe her firm hand and distant affection was actually having a negative effect on the
girl. Had it created a child who would spin out of control when faced with any emotional trauma?
It seems clear now that Ida was confused and felt she was at a crossroads with her foster daughter. She
had once believed she and Wayne would adopt the girl. However, Gladys had again made it clear that
this would not be the case. In fact, in recent months, Gladys had started saying that she wanted Norma
Jeane back. Stalling, Ida always had an excuse as to why the girl could not be returned—she was in
school, she had made friends, she was not feeling well. Finally, Ida decided that perhaps the time had
come. Norma Jeane was already distraught, Ida told Wayne, so why not let her traumatizing memory of
her dog’s death blend with the difficulty she would suffer during a transfer of custody? The next
afternoon, she telephoned Gladys. “I think it would be best now if you came and took Norma Jeane,”
she told her. “She’s very upset. I think she needs her mother.”
By the time Norma Jeane turned seven in June 1933, she was having a difficult time relating to other
people. She also didn’t get along with children her own age at the Washington Street School she
attended in Hawthorne. Certainly, Lester, the child who’d been adopted by the Bolenders, was an ally.
But as for everyone else, she seemed afraid to know them or didn’t want to play with them. There was
an understandably deep sadness about her. She was shy, withdrawn. However, that said, she had only
become more uncommonly pretty with the passing of the years. With her face so clear and luminous
and her blonde hair seeming somehow aglow—Ida actually washed it in lemon juice for just such an
effect, which suggests that even she was taken by the child’s beauty—little Norma Jeane really was
stunning.
In recent years, Norma Jeane had grown to think of Ida Bolender as her mother. However, Ida would
always disabuse her of that notion. Once it had been clarified that no official adoption would take
place, whenever Norma Jeane referred to Ida as her mother, she was quickly reprimanded. “I’m not
your real mother,” Ida would say very abruptly, “and I don’t want you having people believe
otherwise.” In Marilyn Monroe’s autobiography, she quotes Ida as having told her, “You’re old enough
to know better. I’m not related to you. Your mama’s coming to see you tomorrow. You can call her
mama.” The truth was the truth, as far as Ida was concerned, and she wasn’t the girl’s mother, plain and
simple. The sooner Norma Jeane reconciled herself to that fact of life, the better. Ida was a pragmatic
woman, not usually sentimental. True, she could have been more sensitive, but she was who she was
and she never apologized for it.
It’s been said (by Marilyn, actually) that Norma Jeane was also not allowed to refer to Wayne Bolender
as her father. That’s not true at all. In fact, she called him “Daddy” and did so all of her life. His face
weather-beaten from being outdoors, Wayne had a wide, engaging smile and kind, humor-filled eyes. It
was as if Norma Jeane sensed his empathy for her, because she quickly became very attached to him.
Since he truly believed her circumstances were sad, he went out of his way to be nice. Nancy Jeffrey
recalled, “My mother was definitely the disciplinarian in our family, whereas my father was very quiet
and comforting. I’m sure that’s why Norma Jeane gravitated to him. She was very inquisitive. There
was a stool by the bathtub and I remember that she would sit there and, as he shaved, she would ask
him all sorts of questions.” Marilyn also once recalled, “Which way was east or south? How many
people are there in the world? Why do flowers grow? I had so many questions and Daddy always
seemed to know the answers.”
Unfortunately, Wayne could not offer much assistance to Norma Jeane if Ida was angry at her. Cowed
by his wife, he kept the peace by keeping his mouth shut. If he felt the girl was being treated unfairly,
he wouldn’t like it but neither would he do anything about it. Moreover, if he paid too much attention
to Norma Jeane or any of the other children who passed through the Bo-lender home, Ida would
become annoyed. With her dark eyes blazing, she would lash out at him and accuse him of coddling
them, thereby making them that much more difficult to raise. Then, of course, she would feel badly
about losing her temper and apologize to him hours later.
people. She also didn’t get along with children her own age at the Washington Street School she
attended in Hawthorne. Certainly, Lester, the child who’d been adopted by the Bolenders, was an ally.
But as for everyone else, she seemed afraid to know them or didn’t want to play with them. There was
an understandably deep sadness about her. She was shy, withdrawn. However, that said, she had only
become more uncommonly pretty with the passing of the years. With her face so clear and luminous
and her blonde hair seeming somehow aglow—Ida actually washed it in lemon juice for just such an
effect, which suggests that even she was taken by the child’s beauty—little Norma Jeane really was
stunning.
In recent years, Norma Jeane had grown to think of Ida Bolender as her mother. However, Ida would
always disabuse her of that notion. Once it had been clarified that no official adoption would take
place, whenever Norma Jeane referred to Ida as her mother, she was quickly reprimanded. “I’m not
your real mother,” Ida would say very abruptly, “and I don’t want you having people believe
otherwise.” In Marilyn Monroe’s autobiography, she quotes Ida as having told her, “You’re old enough
to know better. I’m not related to you. Your mama’s coming to see you tomorrow. You can call her
mama.” The truth was the truth, as far as Ida was concerned, and she wasn’t the girl’s mother, plain and
simple. The sooner Norma Jeane reconciled herself to that fact of life, the better. Ida was a pragmatic
woman, not usually sentimental. True, she could have been more sensitive, but she was who she was
and she never apologized for it.
It’s been said (by Marilyn, actually) that Norma Jeane was also not allowed to refer to Wayne Bolender
as her father. That’s not true at all. In fact, she called him “Daddy” and did so all of her life. His face
weather-beaten from being outdoors, Wayne had a wide, engaging smile and kind, humor-filled eyes. It
was as if Norma Jeane sensed his empathy for her, because she quickly became very attached to him.
Since he truly believed her circumstances were sad, he went out of his way to be nice. Nancy Jeffrey
recalled, “My mother was definitely the disciplinarian in our family, whereas my father was very quiet
and comforting. I’m sure that’s why Norma Jeane gravitated to him. She was very inquisitive. There
was a stool by the bathtub and I remember that she would sit there and, as he shaved, she would ask
him all sorts of questions.” Marilyn also once recalled, “Which way was east or south? How many
people are there in the world? Why do flowers grow? I had so many questions and Daddy always
seemed to know the answers.”
Unfortunately, Wayne could not offer much assistance to Norma Jeane if Ida was angry at her. Cowed
by his wife, he kept the peace by keeping his mouth shut. If he felt the girl was being treated unfairly,
he wouldn’t like it but neither would he do anything about it. Moreover, if he paid too much attention
to Norma Jeane or any of the other children who passed through the Bo-lender home, Ida would
become annoyed. With her dark eyes blazing, she would lash out at him and accuse him of coddling
them, thereby making them that much more difficult to raise. Then, of course, she would feel badly
about losing her temper and apologize to him hours later.
Within three years’ time, Ida Bolender had taken to little Norma Jeane and begun to love her as if she
were her own. Norma Jeane had bonded with her as well, and now called her “Aunt Ida.” Ida’s
intention had always been to see to it that this child be raised with a sense of independence, even at
such an early age. She knew that her life would be a difficult one and she’d already decided that she
wanted to prepare her for it. She thought of it as a mission, a part of God’s plan not only for Norma
Jeane but for herself as well. She was serious about it, too—as she was about most things. However,
that said, Ida often worked against her own intentions, because whenever her charge displayed any
degree of determination—when she was willful or stubborn—Ida reprimanded her as if trying to reel
her back in, lest she become too noncompliant. In Ida’s mind, there was a fine line between
independence and disobedience, and with Norma Jeane she seemed to have trouble defining it. Still,
she loved the child with all her heart and decided that she wanted to legally adopt her.
According to memories of family members—Monroes and Bolenders—Ida invited Gladys over to see
Norma Jeane, have supper, and discuss adoption possibilities. Grace McKee had explained to Ida that
Gladys’s behavior the day she tried to take Norma Jeane was the unfortunate consequence of her not
having taken her medication. Therefore, Ida tried to put the dreadful episode out of her mind. It wasn’t
easy, though. It’s probably a testament to Ida that she was ever able to strike a conciliatory tone with
Gladys, so traumatized was she by the events of that day. Still, she was the type of woman who always
found a way to stay focused on the business at hand. She needed to meet with Gladys—there was no
way around it—and she knew that Wayne was home and in the next room in case anything went wrong.
Once they finished their meal, Gladys began playing with her daughter. Ida walked over and lifted the
child into her arms. When she did so, Norma Jeane clung to her. Ida went to the couch and took her seat
next to Gladys. With the baby in her lap, Ida reminded Gladys that it had been three years since she’d
left her child in the care of her and her husband. She explained that they both loved Norma Jeane very
much and now thought it would be best if Gladys allowed them to adopt her. As she spoke, the child
fell asleep, cradled in Ida’s arms and seeming blissfully content.
After hearing Ida out, Gladys began to cry softly. She told Ida that she couldn’t bear to lose another
child. She had already lost two, after all. Certainly, Ida understood. However, as she patted Norma
Jeane on the back, it was easy to see that the little girl was very happy with her. Surely, she told Gladys,
“you want her to be this happy for the rest of her life, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then, please. Make the proper decision,” Ida said, according to a later recollection. “Give this little
girl the life she deserves. It’s the best thing for her. She’ll always live deep in your heart, dear.”
Gladys rose from the couch. “Never,” she said firmly. Then she reached over to take her child from Ida.
However, as soon as she touched her, Norma Jeane began to cry. Her tears came without relief for at
least a minute. Even though Ida was still holding the little girl, she sat motionless, maybe waiting for
Gladys to reach out to her. The moment hung awkwardly, mingled emotions running together as both
women just stared at the child. Then, finally, Ida swung into action and began to comfort the girl. When
she could take no more, a tearful Gladys ran from the room and out of the house.
“Now It’s Time to Know Your Mother”
The years passed quickly…
were her own. Norma Jeane had bonded with her as well, and now called her “Aunt Ida.” Ida’s
intention had always been to see to it that this child be raised with a sense of independence, even at
such an early age. She knew that her life would be a difficult one and she’d already decided that she
wanted to prepare her for it. She thought of it as a mission, a part of God’s plan not only for Norma
Jeane but for herself as well. She was serious about it, too—as she was about most things. However,
that said, Ida often worked against her own intentions, because whenever her charge displayed any
degree of determination—when she was willful or stubborn—Ida reprimanded her as if trying to reel
her back in, lest she become too noncompliant. In Ida’s mind, there was a fine line between
independence and disobedience, and with Norma Jeane she seemed to have trouble defining it. Still,
she loved the child with all her heart and decided that she wanted to legally adopt her.
According to memories of family members—Monroes and Bolenders—Ida invited Gladys over to see
Norma Jeane, have supper, and discuss adoption possibilities. Grace McKee had explained to Ida that
Gladys’s behavior the day she tried to take Norma Jeane was the unfortunate consequence of her not
having taken her medication. Therefore, Ida tried to put the dreadful episode out of her mind. It wasn’t
easy, though. It’s probably a testament to Ida that she was ever able to strike a conciliatory tone with
Gladys, so traumatized was she by the events of that day. Still, she was the type of woman who always
found a way to stay focused on the business at hand. She needed to meet with Gladys—there was no
way around it—and she knew that Wayne was home and in the next room in case anything went wrong.
Once they finished their meal, Gladys began playing with her daughter. Ida walked over and lifted the
child into her arms. When she did so, Norma Jeane clung to her. Ida went to the couch and took her seat
next to Gladys. With the baby in her lap, Ida reminded Gladys that it had been three years since she’d
left her child in the care of her and her husband. She explained that they both loved Norma Jeane very
much and now thought it would be best if Gladys allowed them to adopt her. As she spoke, the child
fell asleep, cradled in Ida’s arms and seeming blissfully content.
After hearing Ida out, Gladys began to cry softly. She told Ida that she couldn’t bear to lose another
child. She had already lost two, after all. Certainly, Ida understood. However, as she patted Norma
Jeane on the back, it was easy to see that the little girl was very happy with her. Surely, she told Gladys,
“you want her to be this happy for the rest of her life, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then, please. Make the proper decision,” Ida said, according to a later recollection. “Give this little
girl the life she deserves. It’s the best thing for her. She’ll always live deep in your heart, dear.”
Gladys rose from the couch. “Never,” she said firmly. Then she reached over to take her child from Ida.
However, as soon as she touched her, Norma Jeane began to cry. Her tears came without relief for at
least a minute. Even though Ida was still holding the little girl, she sat motionless, maybe waiting for
Gladys to reach out to her. The moment hung awkwardly, mingled emotions running together as both
women just stared at the child. Then, finally, Ida swung into action and began to comfort the girl. When
she could take no more, a tearful Gladys ran from the room and out of the house.
“Now It’s Time to Know Your Mother”
The years passed quickly…
One afternoon, in the middle of what must have been a full-force episode of paranoia, Gladys pounded
on the front door of the Bolender home. The daughters of a friend of Ida’s from church—both
interviewed for this book—explained for the first time the exchange that occurred, as described to them
by their mother:
“Where’s Norma Jeane?” Gladys demanded, pushing past Ida.
“What is it, Gladys?” Ida replied, regarding her carefully. “What’s happened?”
Gladys said that Norma Jeane could no longer stay at the Bo-lenders’. She had come to take her, she
insisted, as her eyes darted about the small home. It was impossible to reason with her. Ida told her that
she wasn’t making any sense and suggested that she sit down and talk to her. However, Gladys was
adamant. With her eyes flashing, she cried out again that Norma Jeane was her daughter and that she
was taking her home. Ida grabbed Gladys’s arm, delaying her momentarily. “This is her home,” she
told her. “We just haven’t made it official yet… but once we get the adoption papers together…”
Gladys then insisted that there would never be an adoption. Norma Jeane was hers, she said, not Ida’s.
With that, she yanked herself free and ran to the backyard, where the three-year-old was playing with a
dog that had followed Wayne home one day and whom Norma Jeane had named Tippy. Ida followed
Gladys into the backyard, begging her to come to her senses. However, Gladys insisted that she was
only taking what was rightfully hers. Then she scooped up a now crying Norma Jeane and said,
“You’re coming with Mommy, sweetheart.”
According to the story passed down a generation, there was mayhem—a barking dog, a weeping child,
and Ida pulling at Gladys in an effort to save a little girl from a confused, possibly dangerous woman.
Still tussling as they got to the kitchen, Gladys managed to push Ida outside, slamming the back door
and quickly locking it.
Frantic, Ida pounded on the door. Then she tried to force it open with all her weight. After a few
moments of futile effort, she ran down the driveway, around the house, and entered her home through
the front door. By this time, she was out of breath, panting. She listened for a moment. Nothing.
Ida then ran back out the door again to see if Gladys had somehow made it out to the sidewalk in front
of the house. Once outside, she looked both ways down the street—no one was in sight. At a loss, she
was about to burst into tears when suddenly the front door flew open. It was Gladys, her face now
flushed and red.
Then Ida heard the muffled screams of Norma Jeane. To Ida’s horror, Gladys had managed to stuff the
child into a large military duffel bag that Wayne Bolender had used to store his tools. The bag hung on
her shoulder, completely zipped shut. Gladys, now moving clumsily with her awkward baggage,
attempted to cross the lawn. Ida grabbed one of the handles of the canvas sack and tried to free it from
Gladys’s grip. This bizarre tug-of-war would last only moments, ending with the bag splitting open and
the helpless Norma Jeane tumbling onto the ground. Norma Jeane’s weeping ceased for a moment
before she finally screamed out, “Mommy!” Both women turned and looked down at the child, whose
arms were now outstretched—in Ida’s direction. Ida whipped the child quickly up into her arms and ran
inside the house, locking the door behind her.
Now inside, an extremely shaken Ida Bolender stood in a doorway to the kitchen. Clinging to little
Norma Jeane with everything she had, she kept her eyes on the front door, all the while ready to run out
the back if Gladys tried to get into the house. All she could hear was the child’s whimpering as she
watched the front doorknob turn slightly back and forth. Gladys could not get into the house. Ida spent
the next few minutes peeking out various windows as Gladys circled the house, muttering to herself
and occasionally trying to open a window or a door. Finally, Ida screwed up enough courage to shout
through a closed window, “I’ve called the police! They’ll be here shortly!”
With the now quiet Norma Jeane still in her arms, Ida Bolender listened. There was silence. Gladys
Baker had disappeared just as abruptly as she had arrived.
Ida Wants to Adopt Norma Jeane
on the front door of the Bolender home. The daughters of a friend of Ida’s from church—both
interviewed for this book—explained for the first time the exchange that occurred, as described to them
by their mother:
“Where’s Norma Jeane?” Gladys demanded, pushing past Ida.
“What is it, Gladys?” Ida replied, regarding her carefully. “What’s happened?”
Gladys said that Norma Jeane could no longer stay at the Bo-lenders’. She had come to take her, she
insisted, as her eyes darted about the small home. It was impossible to reason with her. Ida told her that
she wasn’t making any sense and suggested that she sit down and talk to her. However, Gladys was
adamant. With her eyes flashing, she cried out again that Norma Jeane was her daughter and that she
was taking her home. Ida grabbed Gladys’s arm, delaying her momentarily. “This is her home,” she
told her. “We just haven’t made it official yet… but once we get the adoption papers together…”
Gladys then insisted that there would never be an adoption. Norma Jeane was hers, she said, not Ida’s.
With that, she yanked herself free and ran to the backyard, where the three-year-old was playing with a
dog that had followed Wayne home one day and whom Norma Jeane had named Tippy. Ida followed
Gladys into the backyard, begging her to come to her senses. However, Gladys insisted that she was
only taking what was rightfully hers. Then she scooped up a now crying Norma Jeane and said,
“You’re coming with Mommy, sweetheart.”
According to the story passed down a generation, there was mayhem—a barking dog, a weeping child,
and Ida pulling at Gladys in an effort to save a little girl from a confused, possibly dangerous woman.
Still tussling as they got to the kitchen, Gladys managed to push Ida outside, slamming the back door
and quickly locking it.
Frantic, Ida pounded on the door. Then she tried to force it open with all her weight. After a few
moments of futile effort, she ran down the driveway, around the house, and entered her home through
the front door. By this time, she was out of breath, panting. She listened for a moment. Nothing.
Ida then ran back out the door again to see if Gladys had somehow made it out to the sidewalk in front
of the house. Once outside, she looked both ways down the street—no one was in sight. At a loss, she
was about to burst into tears when suddenly the front door flew open. It was Gladys, her face now
flushed and red.
Then Ida heard the muffled screams of Norma Jeane. To Ida’s horror, Gladys had managed to stuff the
child into a large military duffel bag that Wayne Bolender had used to store his tools. The bag hung on
her shoulder, completely zipped shut. Gladys, now moving clumsily with her awkward baggage,
attempted to cross the lawn. Ida grabbed one of the handles of the canvas sack and tried to free it from
Gladys’s grip. This bizarre tug-of-war would last only moments, ending with the bag splitting open and
the helpless Norma Jeane tumbling onto the ground. Norma Jeane’s weeping ceased for a moment
before she finally screamed out, “Mommy!” Both women turned and looked down at the child, whose
arms were now outstretched—in Ida’s direction. Ida whipped the child quickly up into her arms and ran
inside the house, locking the door behind her.
Now inside, an extremely shaken Ida Bolender stood in a doorway to the kitchen. Clinging to little
Norma Jeane with everything she had, she kept her eyes on the front door, all the while ready to run out
the back if Gladys tried to get into the house. All she could hear was the child’s whimpering as she
watched the front doorknob turn slightly back and forth. Gladys could not get into the house. Ida spent
the next few minutes peeking out various windows as Gladys circled the house, muttering to herself
and occasionally trying to open a window or a door. Finally, Ida screwed up enough courage to shout
through a closed window, “I’ve called the police! They’ll be here shortly!”
With the now quiet Norma Jeane still in her arms, Ida Bolender listened. There was silence. Gladys
Baker had disappeared just as abruptly as she had arrived.
Ida Wants to Adopt Norma Jeane
A Frightening Encounter with Gladys
By the fall of 1929, with Della Monroe dead for two years, Gladys had become accustomed to not
having anyone in her life upon whom she could totally depend. She hadn’t been able to make any of
her romantic relationships last, and her children had either been taken from her or given away by her.
Her job at Consolidated Studios offered her little opportunity to build friendships. In fact, as a film
cutter, her role was menial. She was told where and how to cut and splice together pieces of film so
they could be viewed as a whole. The irony of that vocation most likely never occurred to Gladys, but
it could be considered an interesting metaphor representing the major challenge of her mental state:
putting the pieces of her life together. It’s true, she had made a good friend in Grace McKee. However,
since Della’s death, Grace hadn’t been able to reach Gladys. It was as if something in Gladys had been
switched off and she simply didn’t care that much about connecting with other people. Perhaps it was
because Gladys was simply not able to quiet the increasingly loud voices in her head. After all, only her
mother had possessed the key to settling her back into a more reasonable thought process. On her own,
she lacked the ability to view her circumstances from a distance. Without that perspective, each
moment became about exactly what was happening right then and there. Goals were impossible to set,
consequences impossible to calculate. She was in a mental tailspin, and everyone in her life knew it but
didn’t know what to do about it.
While her moment-to-moment experiences may have been torturous, Gladys was still able to complete
tasks. For instance, she could show up for work on time, go grocery shopping, and remember to water
the plants. Therefore, if someone’s life could be judged solely by her daily agenda, Gladys Baker
would have appeared quite unspectacular. Yet it was how she experienced and reacted to the string of
events that made her different.
Even toward the end of Della’s life, she had been a somewhat stabilizing factor for her daughter. In
part, it may have been because Gladys was responsible for managing her mother’s health and state of
mind. This duty helped keep her focus off her own paranoid delusions. That paranoia, however, was
now building—and during Gladys’s time alone she began to find it more difficult to remain rational.
Naturally, her first plan of action was to find a man, which she would do often at one of the nearby
speak easies. Of course, these unions rarely lasted more than an evening or two. Also, it was getting
harder for her to lure the opposite sex, not so much because of her reputation as a woman of loose
morals, but because something just seemed a little “off” about her. Through it all, though, Gladys felt
she had a reasonable expectation of having at least one person with her all the time: Norma Jeane. She
was her daughter, after all. When she gave her to Ida, it was in the hope that she would one day be
capable of caring for the baby herself.
By the fall of 1929, with Della Monroe dead for two years, Gladys had become accustomed to not
having anyone in her life upon whom she could totally depend. She hadn’t been able to make any of
her romantic relationships last, and her children had either been taken from her or given away by her.
Her job at Consolidated Studios offered her little opportunity to build friendships. In fact, as a film
cutter, her role was menial. She was told where and how to cut and splice together pieces of film so
they could be viewed as a whole. The irony of that vocation most likely never occurred to Gladys, but
it could be considered an interesting metaphor representing the major challenge of her mental state:
putting the pieces of her life together. It’s true, she had made a good friend in Grace McKee. However,
since Della’s death, Grace hadn’t been able to reach Gladys. It was as if something in Gladys had been
switched off and she simply didn’t care that much about connecting with other people. Perhaps it was
because Gladys was simply not able to quiet the increasingly loud voices in her head. After all, only her
mother had possessed the key to settling her back into a more reasonable thought process. On her own,
she lacked the ability to view her circumstances from a distance. Without that perspective, each
moment became about exactly what was happening right then and there. Goals were impossible to set,
consequences impossible to calculate. She was in a mental tailspin, and everyone in her life knew it but
didn’t know what to do about it.
While her moment-to-moment experiences may have been torturous, Gladys was still able to complete
tasks. For instance, she could show up for work on time, go grocery shopping, and remember to water
the plants. Therefore, if someone’s life could be judged solely by her daily agenda, Gladys Baker
would have appeared quite unspectacular. Yet it was how she experienced and reacted to the string of
events that made her different.
Even toward the end of Della’s life, she had been a somewhat stabilizing factor for her daughter. In
part, it may have been because Gladys was responsible for managing her mother’s health and state of
mind. This duty helped keep her focus off her own paranoid delusions. That paranoia, however, was
now building—and during Gladys’s time alone she began to find it more difficult to remain rational.
Naturally, her first plan of action was to find a man, which she would do often at one of the nearby
speak easies. Of course, these unions rarely lasted more than an evening or two. Also, it was getting
harder for her to lure the opposite sex, not so much because of her reputation as a woman of loose
morals, but because something just seemed a little “off” about her. Through it all, though, Gladys felt
she had a reasonable expectation of having at least one person with her all the time: Norma Jeane. She
was her daughter, after all. When she gave her to Ida, it was in the hope that she would one day be
capable of caring for the baby herself.
Again, Nancy Jeffrey disagrees with that piece of history. “The truth is that we were only not allowed
to go to the movies on Sundays. However, we really didn’t go to movies that much anyway. We were
little kids. How many movies were we going to see between the ages of one and seven? I just don’t
think Mother would have frightened Norma Jeane like that. She may have said something like, ‘We are
churchgoers not moviegoers.’ That sounds like her. But the rest of it, burning with bad people? That
doesn’t sound like Mother to me.”
Whether or not she went to the movies—and of course she wasn’t going without an adult anyway—it
sometimes seemed that there wasn’t much Norma Jeane could ever do to please Ida. No matter how
hard she tried, she could never measure up to the Bolender matriarch’s standards of cleanliness or
behavior. “Poor Norma Jeane always seemed to be in some kind of trouble,” said Mary Thomas-Strong.
“She loved to play in dirt, like a lot of kids. Ida would be unhappy about that. Ida would dress her in
pretty clothes and Norma Jeane would go and play and come back thirty minutes later, dirty again. It
drove Ida crazy. She wanted Norma Jeane to toe the line. She was strict, at times.”
Yes, Ida Bolender could be difficult—there seems to be no argument there from any quarter. She was
tough and resilient, an indomitable woman. “But I believe to this day that she was one of the major
stabilizing influences in Norma Jeane’s young life, and truly the first powerful woman she’d been
exposed to,” says her foster daughter Nancy Jeffrey. Maybe Ida sensed there might be a shortage of
stable and decisive adults in Norma Jeane’s world, and she was determined to be one of them—no
matter what her foster daughter or anyone else thought of her. “I was hard on her for her own good,”
she once explained to Jeffrey. Then, with great positiveness, she added, “But I know I raised her the
right way. I know it in my heart.”
Many of Ida Bolender’s best character traits were impressed upon Norma Jeane Mortensen during her
seven years at the Bolender home. Because she was born to a mother who was in emotional disarray,
perhaps it served the young girl well to be molded by a foster mother who was firm and controlled.
Indeed, it was Ida’s strength and determination that Norma Jeane would one day need to draw upon in
order to make it in show business. However, Gladys’s traits of extreme vulnerability and emotional
instability were also an undeniable part of Norma Jeane’s biology. For instance, she would be well
equipped to handle rejection in her professional life, just as Ida would have in her place. However, to
handle it in her personal life would prove to be very difficult—just as it would have been for Gladys.
“All she ever wanted for Norma Jeane was for her to be strong, like she was,” said Nancy Jeffrey of her
foster mother. “She always knew that [Norma Jeane] would have a very difficult life. She could see that
her family background was not going to be helpful to her and, in fact, could possibly be the downfall of
her. So she wasn’t going to coddle her. She would say, ‘The girl will face stronger foes than me, I can
tell you that much. She has to be able to stand on her own. For all I know, she may hate me now, but
she will be strong. She will have a good life.’ ”
to go to the movies on Sundays. However, we really didn’t go to movies that much anyway. We were
little kids. How many movies were we going to see between the ages of one and seven? I just don’t
think Mother would have frightened Norma Jeane like that. She may have said something like, ‘We are
churchgoers not moviegoers.’ That sounds like her. But the rest of it, burning with bad people? That
doesn’t sound like Mother to me.”
Whether or not she went to the movies—and of course she wasn’t going without an adult anyway—it
sometimes seemed that there wasn’t much Norma Jeane could ever do to please Ida. No matter how
hard she tried, she could never measure up to the Bolender matriarch’s standards of cleanliness or
behavior. “Poor Norma Jeane always seemed to be in some kind of trouble,” said Mary Thomas-Strong.
“She loved to play in dirt, like a lot of kids. Ida would be unhappy about that. Ida would dress her in
pretty clothes and Norma Jeane would go and play and come back thirty minutes later, dirty again. It
drove Ida crazy. She wanted Norma Jeane to toe the line. She was strict, at times.”
Yes, Ida Bolender could be difficult—there seems to be no argument there from any quarter. She was
tough and resilient, an indomitable woman. “But I believe to this day that she was one of the major
stabilizing influences in Norma Jeane’s young life, and truly the first powerful woman she’d been
exposed to,” says her foster daughter Nancy Jeffrey. Maybe Ida sensed there might be a shortage of
stable and decisive adults in Norma Jeane’s world, and she was determined to be one of them—no
matter what her foster daughter or anyone else thought of her. “I was hard on her for her own good,”
she once explained to Jeffrey. Then, with great positiveness, she added, “But I know I raised her the
right way. I know it in my heart.”
Many of Ida Bolender’s best character traits were impressed upon Norma Jeane Mortensen during her
seven years at the Bolender home. Because she was born to a mother who was in emotional disarray,
perhaps it served the young girl well to be molded by a foster mother who was firm and controlled.
Indeed, it was Ida’s strength and determination that Norma Jeane would one day need to draw upon in
order to make it in show business. However, Gladys’s traits of extreme vulnerability and emotional
instability were also an undeniable part of Norma Jeane’s biology. For instance, she would be well
equipped to handle rejection in her professional life, just as Ida would have in her place. However, to
handle it in her personal life would prove to be very difficult—just as it would have been for Gladys.
“All she ever wanted for Norma Jeane was for her to be strong, like she was,” said Nancy Jeffrey of her
foster mother. “She always knew that [Norma Jeane] would have a very difficult life. She could see that
her family background was not going to be helpful to her and, in fact, could possibly be the downfall of
her. So she wasn’t going to coddle her. She would say, ‘The girl will face stronger foes than me, I can
tell you that much. She has to be able to stand on her own. For all I know, she may hate me now, but
she will be strong. She will have a good life.’ ”
Wayne Bolender was an amiable and openhearted fellow who was pleasant to everyone and had always
eagerly embraced the idea of raising foster children. He was wiry, with light gray eyes behind thick
tortoiseshell glasses, and the most prominent feature on his face was his very large nose. He had a jolly
air about him. Sturdy and dependable, as a mail carrier for the United States Postal Service he would
work the same route for thirty-five years (48th Street and Vermont Avenue in Los Angeles). “He loved
being with the kids,” says one source who knew the Bolenders, “and the kids loved him. He was
devoutly Baptist, like Ida. He had a little printing press in the house and he would make prayer cards
for the church with it.”
Though they shared many of the same ideals, Wayne and Ida didn’t have much of a relationship. He
and Ida rarely spoke and when they did it was usually Ida chastising him for some perceived
transgression or insisting he do something he obviously did not want to do. He was clearly intimidated
by her and, some thought, maybe even afraid of her. Indeed, she ran her household with the stringent
rules and regulations of an Old World orphanage, taking her responsibility to the foster children quite
seriously.
Much has been made over the years of Ida and Wayne’s fanatical religious leanings. It’s been written
that they were zealots about their Protestant faith. “First of all, we were Baptists,” says Nancy Jeffrey.
“Though I think along the way Mother did belong to a United Pentecostal Church. We went to Sunday
school on Sunday mornings and then Wednesday night services. I don’t think that was too much.
Mother sometimes did the cooking for big church dinners—there would be a big dinner at the church
for the congregation—or sometimes many of them would come to our home. I’m not sure how it
evolved that my parents were religious fanatics. Maybe it was just part of the myth that was created
around Norma Jeane when she became Marilyn Monroe. Mother taught us to love the Lord and, by
extension, to love each other. It was really the only foundation Norma Jeane ever had, and I think it did
her a lot of good in her life. I know that was Mother’s intention.”
Supposedly, at least according to the stories written about the adult Marilyn Monroe, she was forced to
memorize the following prayer when she was about four—and she would be quizzed often to make
sure she remembered it: “I promise, God helping me, not to buy, drink or sell or give alcoholic liquor
while I live; from all tobaccos I’ll abstain and never take God’s name in vain.” Her foster sister Nancy
Jeffrey scoffs at the notion. “I never heard that prayer in my entire life. I’m not sure that there’s
anything wrong with it, anyway, even if Mother had made us say it. But she never did.”
Another story has it that going to the movies was out of the question because there was no telling what
Norma Jeane would be exposed to in the theater. In fact, Marilyn once recalled Ida having told her, “If
the world came to an end with you sitting in the movies, do you know what would happen? You’d burn
along with all the bad people. We are churchgoers, not moviegoers.” Years later, Marilyn would say, “I
don’t think it’s right to use God to frighten a child like that. I just think that was an awful thing for her
to do to a child.”
eagerly embraced the idea of raising foster children. He was wiry, with light gray eyes behind thick
tortoiseshell glasses, and the most prominent feature on his face was his very large nose. He had a jolly
air about him. Sturdy and dependable, as a mail carrier for the United States Postal Service he would
work the same route for thirty-five years (48th Street and Vermont Avenue in Los Angeles). “He loved
being with the kids,” says one source who knew the Bolenders, “and the kids loved him. He was
devoutly Baptist, like Ida. He had a little printing press in the house and he would make prayer cards
for the church with it.”
Though they shared many of the same ideals, Wayne and Ida didn’t have much of a relationship. He
and Ida rarely spoke and when they did it was usually Ida chastising him for some perceived
transgression or insisting he do something he obviously did not want to do. He was clearly intimidated
by her and, some thought, maybe even afraid of her. Indeed, she ran her household with the stringent
rules and regulations of an Old World orphanage, taking her responsibility to the foster children quite
seriously.
Much has been made over the years of Ida and Wayne’s fanatical religious leanings. It’s been written
that they were zealots about their Protestant faith. “First of all, we were Baptists,” says Nancy Jeffrey.
“Though I think along the way Mother did belong to a United Pentecostal Church. We went to Sunday
school on Sunday mornings and then Wednesday night services. I don’t think that was too much.
Mother sometimes did the cooking for big church dinners—there would be a big dinner at the church
for the congregation—or sometimes many of them would come to our home. I’m not sure how it
evolved that my parents were religious fanatics. Maybe it was just part of the myth that was created
around Norma Jeane when she became Marilyn Monroe. Mother taught us to love the Lord and, by
extension, to love each other. It was really the only foundation Norma Jeane ever had, and I think it did
her a lot of good in her life. I know that was Mother’s intention.”
Supposedly, at least according to the stories written about the adult Marilyn Monroe, she was forced to
memorize the following prayer when she was about four—and she would be quizzed often to make
sure she remembered it: “I promise, God helping me, not to buy, drink or sell or give alcoholic liquor
while I live; from all tobaccos I’ll abstain and never take God’s name in vain.” Her foster sister Nancy
Jeffrey scoffs at the notion. “I never heard that prayer in my entire life. I’m not sure that there’s
anything wrong with it, anyway, even if Mother had made us say it. But she never did.”
Another story has it that going to the movies was out of the question because there was no telling what
Norma Jeane would be exposed to in the theater. In fact, Marilyn once recalled Ida having told her, “If
the world came to an end with you sitting in the movies, do you know what would happen? You’d burn
along with all the bad people. We are churchgoers, not moviegoers.” Years later, Marilyn would say, “I
don’t think it’s right to use God to frighten a child like that. I just think that was an awful thing for her
to do to a child.”
According to the family’s history, handed down a generation, on August 3 mother and daughter were
having a silent and contemplative meal at the kitchen table. Perhaps Gladys was trying to sort through
her emotions, maybe attempting to divine how she might proceed with her mother. Over the years,
Della had become Gladys’s most loyal confidante. After all, mother and daughter shared the same kinds
of mental problems, and often one would have to convince the other that the voices being “heard” were
not real, that the people “watching” were imaginary. How could Gladys say goodbye to Della now? In
her absence, who would be there for her? She had already lost her three children, and now her mother,
this woman sitting across from her with an empty look in her eyes? Gladys couldn’t accept it,
especially with the knowledge that when her father had been sent to a similar place, he never returned.
His fate had rarely left her thoughts, especially during the last couple of weeks.
Suddenly, in a moment of surprising lucidity, Della looked up from her plate and stared at her daughter
with sad eyes. “You must let me go, Gladys,” she said earnestly. “It’s time for me to go. I want to go.”
Mother and daughter looked intently at each other for a long, infinitely heartbreaking moment. Then, as
the tears began to roll down Gladys’s face, Della went back to her meal.
On August 4, 1927, Della Monroe was taken to the Norwalk State Hospital. Nineteen days later, on
August 23, she died. She was buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery in Whittier, California, next to her first
husband, Otis. She was just fifty-one.
Living with the Bolenders
By the time she was three, in 1929, Norma Jeane Mortensen was an extraordinarily pretty girl with
honey blonde curls and baby blue eyes. Hers was a face that somehow seemed perfect, as if carved
from pale, polished marble. It was difficult for anyone to just pass her by without taking notice.
Interestingly, despite all of the confusion around her during these early years, she seemed remarkably
well-adjusted to her life at the Bolenders’. She was not unhappy. “We treated her like our own child,”
Ida Bolender said in 1966, “because we loved her.” However, in years to come, writers would paint a
very bleak picture of this time in Marilyn’s life.
“I guess there was an effort to sensationalize things,” says Nancy Jeffrey, the only surviving member of
the foster Bolender siblings. “Because of the way things turned out for Norma Jeane, every one of her
biographers over the years has wanted to make it sound like it was awful at our home, but I’m the only
one of us still alive and I can tell you that it wasn’t. Norma Jeane was happy in our home. It was a
loving family, just a happy home full of children. Mother was very industrious, too. She made all of our
clothes for us. She loved us beyond words and she hung on to us. She didn’t want anything to happen
to us. Whenever we left the house, I don’t care where we were going, she would say, ‘Stop just for a
second,’ and she would then say a quick prayer for our safety.”
Of course, a big part of the problem was that Marilyn constantly referred to her impoverished
background when she became famous, and very often made the circumstances of her first seven years
seem much worse than they were. Jeffrey says that when Ida was alive, she was “very upset” by the
mischaracterizations of Norma Jeane’s time in the Bolender household.
On Ida and Wayne Bolender’s two-acre agricultural property in Hawthorne, they raised chickens and
goats and grew vegetables. “We grew up on fresh tomatoes, corn on the cob, watermelon, green beans,
and squash,” recalls Nancy Jeffrey. “We also had trees that were full of plums, apples, and lemons.
There was one huge fig tree that Norma Jeane and Lester—our foster brother who was the only one
Mother and Daddy actually adopted—loved to climb. They would drag blankets up there and make a
fort for themselves. We also had chickens and rabbits, and Daddy even bought a goat because a couple
of us were allergic to cow’s milk as little children. It wasn’t necessary to go to the store often, but on
those occasions when we did go Daddy would drive us in his Model T Ford and we would wait in the
car while Mother shopped. We played guessing games of the surrounding sights, sang favorite songs, or
Daddy would tell us stories. Another childhood memory was that on rainy days we had to stay in the
house, so we would make a fort under the dining room table, leaning the top of the chairs around it for
rooms. Then we would cover it all with blankets. Mother even let us eat lunch under there at times.
Norma Jeane loved that.”
The house itself, at 459 East Rhode Island Street, * was small and cramped, a ramshackle-looking
structure in the middle of what must have seemed to little children to be… nowhere. During the seven
years Norma Jeane would live there, quite a few children came and went, but there were five foster
children who were there most, if not all, of the time: the aforementioned Lester, plus Mumsy, Alvina,
Noel, and Nancy. “Around the time of the Depression, a lot of parents simply didn’t have the resources
to care for their own children,” recalls Nancy Jeffrey, “so they would drop them off in foster homes
until they were ready to take proper care of them. It was a common thing.” From all accounts, Norma
Jeane got along well with all of her foster siblings, especially with Lester, who was two months
younger.
having a silent and contemplative meal at the kitchen table. Perhaps Gladys was trying to sort through
her emotions, maybe attempting to divine how she might proceed with her mother. Over the years,
Della had become Gladys’s most loyal confidante. After all, mother and daughter shared the same kinds
of mental problems, and often one would have to convince the other that the voices being “heard” were
not real, that the people “watching” were imaginary. How could Gladys say goodbye to Della now? In
her absence, who would be there for her? She had already lost her three children, and now her mother,
this woman sitting across from her with an empty look in her eyes? Gladys couldn’t accept it,
especially with the knowledge that when her father had been sent to a similar place, he never returned.
His fate had rarely left her thoughts, especially during the last couple of weeks.
Suddenly, in a moment of surprising lucidity, Della looked up from her plate and stared at her daughter
with sad eyes. “You must let me go, Gladys,” she said earnestly. “It’s time for me to go. I want to go.”
Mother and daughter looked intently at each other for a long, infinitely heartbreaking moment. Then, as
the tears began to roll down Gladys’s face, Della went back to her meal.
On August 4, 1927, Della Monroe was taken to the Norwalk State Hospital. Nineteen days later, on
August 23, she died. She was buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery in Whittier, California, next to her first
husband, Otis. She was just fifty-one.
Living with the Bolenders
By the time she was three, in 1929, Norma Jeane Mortensen was an extraordinarily pretty girl with
honey blonde curls and baby blue eyes. Hers was a face that somehow seemed perfect, as if carved
from pale, polished marble. It was difficult for anyone to just pass her by without taking notice.
Interestingly, despite all of the confusion around her during these early years, she seemed remarkably
well-adjusted to her life at the Bolenders’. She was not unhappy. “We treated her like our own child,”
Ida Bolender said in 1966, “because we loved her.” However, in years to come, writers would paint a
very bleak picture of this time in Marilyn’s life.
“I guess there was an effort to sensationalize things,” says Nancy Jeffrey, the only surviving member of
the foster Bolender siblings. “Because of the way things turned out for Norma Jeane, every one of her
biographers over the years has wanted to make it sound like it was awful at our home, but I’m the only
one of us still alive and I can tell you that it wasn’t. Norma Jeane was happy in our home. It was a
loving family, just a happy home full of children. Mother was very industrious, too. She made all of our
clothes for us. She loved us beyond words and she hung on to us. She didn’t want anything to happen
to us. Whenever we left the house, I don’t care where we were going, she would say, ‘Stop just for a
second,’ and she would then say a quick prayer for our safety.”
Of course, a big part of the problem was that Marilyn constantly referred to her impoverished
background when she became famous, and very often made the circumstances of her first seven years
seem much worse than they were. Jeffrey says that when Ida was alive, she was “very upset” by the
mischaracterizations of Norma Jeane’s time in the Bolender household.
On Ida and Wayne Bolender’s two-acre agricultural property in Hawthorne, they raised chickens and
goats and grew vegetables. “We grew up on fresh tomatoes, corn on the cob, watermelon, green beans,
and squash,” recalls Nancy Jeffrey. “We also had trees that were full of plums, apples, and lemons.
There was one huge fig tree that Norma Jeane and Lester—our foster brother who was the only one
Mother and Daddy actually adopted—loved to climb. They would drag blankets up there and make a
fort for themselves. We also had chickens and rabbits, and Daddy even bought a goat because a couple
of us were allergic to cow’s milk as little children. It wasn’t necessary to go to the store often, but on
those occasions when we did go Daddy would drive us in his Model T Ford and we would wait in the
car while Mother shopped. We played guessing games of the surrounding sights, sang favorite songs, or
Daddy would tell us stories. Another childhood memory was that on rainy days we had to stay in the
house, so we would make a fort under the dining room table, leaning the top of the chairs around it for
rooms. Then we would cover it all with blankets. Mother even let us eat lunch under there at times.
Norma Jeane loved that.”
The house itself, at 459 East Rhode Island Street, * was small and cramped, a ramshackle-looking
structure in the middle of what must have seemed to little children to be… nowhere. During the seven
years Norma Jeane would live there, quite a few children came and went, but there were five foster
children who were there most, if not all, of the time: the aforementioned Lester, plus Mumsy, Alvina,
Noel, and Nancy. “Around the time of the Depression, a lot of parents simply didn’t have the resources
to care for their own children,” recalls Nancy Jeffrey, “so they would drop them off in foster homes
until they were ready to take proper care of them. It was a common thing.” From all accounts, Norma
Jeane got along well with all of her foster siblings, especially with Lester, who was two months
younger.
Gladys would have two weeks with her baby girl before she would have to do what she had agreed to
do: Before her mother had left town, Gladys had agreed to hand over the infant to a stranger, Ida
Bolender. During those two weeks, something dreadful occurred, making it clear that the arrangement
made between Della and Ida was necessary. A friend and coworker of Gladys’s at Consolidated Studios
named Grace McKee came by the house to take care of the baby for an afternoon while Gladys went
grocery shopping. (Grace would play a very important role in the lives of Gladys and Norma Jeane in
years to come.) When Gladys returned, she went into a manic state for reasons unknown and began to
accuse Grace of poisoning the child. One thing led to another, and somehow Grace ended up on the
receiving end of a kitchen knife, stabbed by Gladys. Though Grace’s wound was superficial, it was
clear that Gladys could be a danger to her baby. After that violent episode, which panicked and
bewildered everyone, it was an easy decision to turn Norma Jeane over to Ida.
The emotionally charged transfer happened on June 13, 1926—that was the sad day Gladys Baker
showed up on Ida Bolender’s doorstep with a two-week-old infant. After a long and difficult farewell,
she walked out the front door of Ida’s house without the child named Norma Jeane Mortensen. *
Norma Jeane was a help less infant who had entered this world without any form of welcome. There
was no freshly furnished nursery awaiting her, no tiny wardrobe, and in fact no one on earth whose
future plans included her. She spent the first few days of her life simply being sustained, not nurtured.
She was a burden, one that needed to be unloaded. No one can know for certain, but it very well may
have been at a tender age that she began to sense that something wasn’t quite right in her world—that
there wasn’t sufficient attention being paid her. Indeed, she would spend much of the rest of her life
trying to change those circumstances—but to do so, she would need to one day become… Marilyn
Monroe.
Della’s Terrible Fate
Within just days of surrendering Norma Jeane to Ida and Albert Wayne Bolender, Gladys Baker began
to feel remorse over the decision. “It occurred to her, I think, that maybe she could have done for this
child what her mother had not done for her—love her, be there for her,” said one of her family
members. The deal was that she would pay the Bolenders twenty-five dollars per week to raise Norma
Jeane, which she did the entire time Norma Jeane was in their care. In the beginning, though, she gave
them a few extra dollars a week so that she could stay with them on occasional weekends and at least
be with her baby. That didn’t last long, though. “The truth was that Gladys had a problem watching Ida
raise her child,” said Mary Thomas-Strong, whose mother was a close friend of Ida’s. “Ida could be
strict and controlling. She felt she knew what was right. She was a professional mother, in a sense. She
wanted to have her way with Norma Jeane and it was hard for Gladys to be on the sidelines. Therefore,
she moved back to Hollywood determined to visit the baby every weekend. She was back and forth a
lot.” In a 1930 census the Bolenders and Gladys were reported to live all in the same household.
Adding to Gladys’s bewilderment at this time was the arrival of her mother, Della, who returned from
India with malaria. Her “husband” Charles Grainger decided not to come back to the States with her,
leaving most people to believe that their relationship was over. Della was delusional and sick with a
fever for many weeks. It took a terrible toll on her.
In summer of 1927, Della walked across the street from her home to the Bolenders’ with the intention
of seeing Norma Jeane. She banged on the front door, but Ida didn’t want to let her into the house. It’s
unknown why Ida took this position, but she may have felt that Della was out of control and a danger to
the baby. Indeed, Della broke the door’s glass with her elbow and let herself in. The family history has
it that she confronted Ida and said she believed that Norma Jeane was dead and that no one had told her
or Gladys. Alarmed and not knowing how to handle the situation, Ida let Della see Norma Jeane
sleeping in her crib. She went to get Della a glass of water and when she returned she found Della
smothering the baby with a pillow. “Ida became almost hysterical,” said one friend of Gladys’s in the
telling of the story. “She grabbed the child. Della said that the baby’s pillow had slipped and she was
simply readjusting it. But Ida was very upset and demanded that Della leave the house.” Marilyn
Monroe—and even the Bolenders—would tell variations of this story many times over the years.
“Ida and Wayne called the police,” said Mary Thomas-Strong. “When they came, they found a very
mixed-up Della babbling incoherently. With Norma Jeane crying in her bedroom, and Ida shouting
accusations at Della, it was such a chaotic scene the police didn’t know what to do about it. So they
escorted Della back to her house and left her there. What they should have done was taken her to a
hospital.”
For a long time, Della had been filled with an aching sadness. Now it was not only more acute but had
also turned into abject anger directed at whoever happened to be in the room with her—and
unfortunately, that was usually Gladys, who had recently moved in with her mother to care for her.
After a battery of tests, it was determined that Della was suffering from a weakened heart, and probably
heart disease as well. Of course, that diagnosis certainly did not account for her many years of
unpredictable behavior, which had started back when she gave birth to her children. Once she began
taking the prescribed medication, things went from bad to worse. Her swift decline reminded some
family members of the sudden descent into madness that had been suffered by Della’s late husband,
Otis. Gladys couldn’t help but fear the worst. The horrifying likelihood was that the same thing that had
happened to her father was now afflicting her mother.
A few nights after Gladys moved into the house with her, Della came rushing into her bedroom
screaming that Charles Grainger had broken into the house and raped her. Gladys didn’t even have to
check the property to verify that Grainger wasn’t on it—she just knew he wasn’t. However, there was
no calming Della that night. A couple of days later, she started to complain that the local butcher had
put shards of glass in her ground beef. Then, a week later, on August 1, Della took a turn for the worse,
so much so that Gladys and Grace had to rush her back to the doctor. “He said there was no doubt about
it, Della needed to be institutionalized,” said Mary Thomas-Strong. “Gladys couldn’t believe it. She
wasn’t going to allow it. But then the strangest thing happened.”
do: Before her mother had left town, Gladys had agreed to hand over the infant to a stranger, Ida
Bolender. During those two weeks, something dreadful occurred, making it clear that the arrangement
made between Della and Ida was necessary. A friend and coworker of Gladys’s at Consolidated Studios
named Grace McKee came by the house to take care of the baby for an afternoon while Gladys went
grocery shopping. (Grace would play a very important role in the lives of Gladys and Norma Jeane in
years to come.) When Gladys returned, she went into a manic state for reasons unknown and began to
accuse Grace of poisoning the child. One thing led to another, and somehow Grace ended up on the
receiving end of a kitchen knife, stabbed by Gladys. Though Grace’s wound was superficial, it was
clear that Gladys could be a danger to her baby. After that violent episode, which panicked and
bewildered everyone, it was an easy decision to turn Norma Jeane over to Ida.
The emotionally charged transfer happened on June 13, 1926—that was the sad day Gladys Baker
showed up on Ida Bolender’s doorstep with a two-week-old infant. After a long and difficult farewell,
she walked out the front door of Ida’s house without the child named Norma Jeane Mortensen. *
Norma Jeane was a help less infant who had entered this world without any form of welcome. There
was no freshly furnished nursery awaiting her, no tiny wardrobe, and in fact no one on earth whose
future plans included her. She spent the first few days of her life simply being sustained, not nurtured.
She was a burden, one that needed to be unloaded. No one can know for certain, but it very well may
have been at a tender age that she began to sense that something wasn’t quite right in her world—that
there wasn’t sufficient attention being paid her. Indeed, she would spend much of the rest of her life
trying to change those circumstances—but to do so, she would need to one day become… Marilyn
Monroe.
Della’s Terrible Fate
Within just days of surrendering Norma Jeane to Ida and Albert Wayne Bolender, Gladys Baker began
to feel remorse over the decision. “It occurred to her, I think, that maybe she could have done for this
child what her mother had not done for her—love her, be there for her,” said one of her family
members. The deal was that she would pay the Bolenders twenty-five dollars per week to raise Norma
Jeane, which she did the entire time Norma Jeane was in their care. In the beginning, though, she gave
them a few extra dollars a week so that she could stay with them on occasional weekends and at least
be with her baby. That didn’t last long, though. “The truth was that Gladys had a problem watching Ida
raise her child,” said Mary Thomas-Strong, whose mother was a close friend of Ida’s. “Ida could be
strict and controlling. She felt she knew what was right. She was a professional mother, in a sense. She
wanted to have her way with Norma Jeane and it was hard for Gladys to be on the sidelines. Therefore,
she moved back to Hollywood determined to visit the baby every weekend. She was back and forth a
lot.” In a 1930 census the Bolenders and Gladys were reported to live all in the same household.
Adding to Gladys’s bewilderment at this time was the arrival of her mother, Della, who returned from
India with malaria. Her “husband” Charles Grainger decided not to come back to the States with her,
leaving most people to believe that their relationship was over. Della was delusional and sick with a
fever for many weeks. It took a terrible toll on her.
In summer of 1927, Della walked across the street from her home to the Bolenders’ with the intention
of seeing Norma Jeane. She banged on the front door, but Ida didn’t want to let her into the house. It’s
unknown why Ida took this position, but she may have felt that Della was out of control and a danger to
the baby. Indeed, Della broke the door’s glass with her elbow and let herself in. The family history has
it that she confronted Ida and said she believed that Norma Jeane was dead and that no one had told her
or Gladys. Alarmed and not knowing how to handle the situation, Ida let Della see Norma Jeane
sleeping in her crib. She went to get Della a glass of water and when she returned she found Della
smothering the baby with a pillow. “Ida became almost hysterical,” said one friend of Gladys’s in the
telling of the story. “She grabbed the child. Della said that the baby’s pillow had slipped and she was
simply readjusting it. But Ida was very upset and demanded that Della leave the house.” Marilyn
Monroe—and even the Bolenders—would tell variations of this story many times over the years.
“Ida and Wayne called the police,” said Mary Thomas-Strong. “When they came, they found a very
mixed-up Della babbling incoherently. With Norma Jeane crying in her bedroom, and Ida shouting
accusations at Della, it was such a chaotic scene the police didn’t know what to do about it. So they
escorted Della back to her house and left her there. What they should have done was taken her to a
hospital.”
For a long time, Della had been filled with an aching sadness. Now it was not only more acute but had
also turned into abject anger directed at whoever happened to be in the room with her—and
unfortunately, that was usually Gladys, who had recently moved in with her mother to care for her.
After a battery of tests, it was determined that Della was suffering from a weakened heart, and probably
heart disease as well. Of course, that diagnosis certainly did not account for her many years of
unpredictable behavior, which had started back when she gave birth to her children. Once she began
taking the prescribed medication, things went from bad to worse. Her swift decline reminded some
family members of the sudden descent into madness that had been suffered by Della’s late husband,
Otis. Gladys couldn’t help but fear the worst. The horrifying likelihood was that the same thing that had
happened to her father was now afflicting her mother.
A few nights after Gladys moved into the house with her, Della came rushing into her bedroom
screaming that Charles Grainger had broken into the house and raped her. Gladys didn’t even have to
check the property to verify that Grainger wasn’t on it—she just knew he wasn’t. However, there was
no calming Della that night. A couple of days later, she started to complain that the local butcher had
put shards of glass in her ground beef. Then, a week later, on August 1, Della took a turn for the worse,
so much so that Gladys and Grace had to rush her back to the doctor. “He said there was no doubt about
it, Della needed to be institutionalized,” said Mary Thomas-Strong. “Gladys couldn’t believe it. She
wasn’t going to allow it. But then the strangest thing happened.”
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