of frost on this early morning.
The glass walls insulated the girls from the cold morning. Their heated breaths clung to the dusty glass. The house was surrounded by acres of sage and scrub oak and open land. The big rock that loomed nearby from which the area got its name—Eagle Rock—was just ten miles from the bustle of downtown Los Angeles yet seemed further in terms of sophistication. This was rural land with skinny horses roaming and coyotes howling after dark. At night the sky was lit by a canopy of stars, not by the klieg lights of Hollywood. According to fifteen-year-old Lili, it was the sticks.
Lili often took a bus from Pasadena to visit Barbara and Dardy and teach them ballet. She didn’t have many friends at school, preferring the company of her younger siblings, both long-legged, wide-cheeked, and dimpled like herself. In fact all three bore a striking resemblance to each other.
Barbara, ten, and Dardy, eight, stood behind their sister, their hands on a ballet bar that ran the length of the wall.
LILI STOOD IN FIRST POSITION. AT FIFTEEN, SHE WAS ALREADY HER FULL height of five nine and instructed the younger girls to follow her, ordering another set of pliés and jetés in a soft voice that would never change, never dominate, squeaky and high pitched, a startling Minnie Mouse sound. “No, no. Back straight, heels down, soften your wrists. Turn your feet out. Tuck your bottom under,” Lili ordered.38
Ballerina Lili
Lili didn’t yet carry herself with the noble bearing she would become famous for. Taller than most boys, she slouched. Alice was constantly encouraging, “You look like a queen, stand like one.”39
Lili was clearly the more experienced dancer, having taken ballet classes for years from Madame Henderson for $1 a week. Madame H. had taken a particular interest in the pretty girl. It was one of the only luxuries in a spartan childhood lacking many indulgences. The ballet lessons would prove to be prescient; it would be a skill that would bring her fame and fortune and set her apart in her future profession.
The girls acted like frisky young colts, skittish and exuberant in their youth, long-maned and carefree. Spoiled by Alice and Ian, the girls did as they chose. Barbara and Dardy would tear through the scrubby hills around Eagle Rock on their horses while Lili closeted herself inside, doing nothing more than reading her movie and fashion magazines while daydreaming of living a glamorous life. She thought about designing clothes. She loved beautiful things and would spend hours arranging her drawers of colorful ribbon and lace.
Lili’s beloved grandmother Alice
The girls wore pink satin toe shoes, a recent extravagance from Alice. Alice was always encouraging the girls, perhaps to make up for Idella’s lacerating tongue. Lili was no closer to Idella after learning the truth, nor would she ever be.
WITH HER HAND ON THE BARRE, DARDY, SEVEN YEARS YOUNGER THAN Lili, looked up at her with awe. As Idella’s last child she knew she was her least favorite. “I never remember her telling me she loved me.”40 Idella had run out of patience by the time Dardy was born. Idella blatantly doted on the more beautiful Barbara, a mere fourteen months older.
Idella struggled with loads of laundry, limping through the house, dragging a leg that had been damaged. Bitter and ill-tempered, the once beautiful woman whose life hadn’t turned out as planned must have felt diminished in her family’s eyes. This wasn’t what she had wanted for herself. She didn’t know how to care for this big, chaotic family. “None of us liked her,” Dardy said. They adored Ian. He spoiled the children. He wouldn’t let them lift a finger to help clean or cook. “Not my daughters,” he would say. Neither Barbara nor Dardy would learn to cook or do much of anything domestic. But they were fearless on their horses. And that was more important than domesticity.
Barbara in Eagle Rock taking care of her horses
Ian had rescued a half dozen skinny nags from the glue factory. He could barely afford to feed them but offered them to Barbara and Dardy with the stipulation they were to groom, feed, and ride them daily. With no money for saddles, Ian taught the girls to ride bareback, clinging to the animals with the strength of their knees. Madly passionate about their horses, they became expert riders.
Lili wanted nothing to do with pets. She had no desire to tear around the countryside kicking up dust and dirt in her face, burning her fair skin under the hot sun. “She was the least athletic person I knew,” Dardy said.
FREQUENTLY LILI HOPPED BUSES AND STREETCARS TO DOWNTOWN Los Angeles. She loved nothing better than to spend hours in the palatial movie houses with hand-carved banisters, giant crystal chandeliers, thick red velvet curtains, plush seats, the lobby a sea of marble. She fell in love with movies—and theatres—when she had lived in Seattle. It was relief from worry as she sank into a darkened theatre. She was no longer a lonely and isolated girl. She was anything she imagined herself to be. Life on the silver screen was glamorous and she felt life should imitate the movies. It was everything Lili, sitting in a narrow bed in a cramped cottage on a quiet street, wanted.
Fifty years later she could recall in minute detail a scene in Shanghai Express starring Marlene Dietrich as Shanghai Lily (Lili’s future moniker, if not the exact spelling): A train steams slowly through a Chinese slum. As with so many others at the time, movies and the stars were a heavy influence.
In the 1930s Greta Garbo was “the biggest money making machine” and at the height of her fame.41 Lili became fascinated by Garbo. She wanted not only to look like her but also to seduce men as her characters often did. She had seen Mata Hari repeatedly, swooning over the costumes. At the opening of Mata Hari in New York, mobs had caused near riots, with dozens of adoring fans hysterical over their idol. Lili loved Garbo’s sphinx-like expression, her mysterious manner and how it drove the men wild. From Garbo Lili learned the power behind being inscrutable. Everything was about cloaking, hiding, obscuring, protecting. She would invoke an alter ego when she went on the stage, most likely that of the actress.
John Gilbert, Garbo’s leading man on and off the screen, was dark, good-looking, and rugged. He would become the epitome of the type of man Lili would fall for.
Clark Gable was another Lili developed a crush on. Her type, but elegant. Paired with Harlow and Crawford and Lombard, Gable was the crystallization of Lili’s desires.
With her long dancer legs sprawled across her bed, Lili spent hours flicking through movie magazines. She tacked pictures of Garbo on the walls. She had begun her quest to reinvent herself.
A movie Lili would have enjoyed was Dinner at Eight starring that slinky Jean Harlow, who famously wore silky gowns that clung to her perfect body, leaving nothing to the imagination. She was laughter and light and beauty. In the film she plays Kitty, a gold digger with social aspirations to better herself by marrying a tycoon whom she is unfaithful to. Lili longed to be desirable enough to be a gold digger.42 Lili’s hair color would eventually match the star’s distinctive shade after she discovered a recipe on the back
