The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe

Dr. Greenson in Control

At the end of 1961, Marilyn Monroe purchased a house for about $77,000. She had wanted a house that looked as much like Dr. Greenson’s as possible, and she found one. She had been searching for some time. Once, she and Pat Newcomb found a home that Marilyn liked very much. The two were standing outside near the pool talking it over when the owner, a woman, came out, stared at Marilyn for a long time, and finally said, “I know who you are! Get off my property immediately!” There seemed no justification at all for such an outburst, but it suggested that Marilyn’s reputation was by now a mixed one among her public. There were people who loved her, but also definitely people who had a judgment on her. Choked with tears, Marilyn and Pat quickly left the premises.

With three bedrooms and two baths, Marilyn’s new house was a surprisingly small—by show business standards—hacienda-type, one-story home on Fifth Helena Drive outside of Brentwood, California. The living room was so small, just three pieces of furniture would fit. The bathrooms were extremely small, as was the kitchen. Basically, it looked like a small, very modest apartment. It did feature a swimming pool and a lush garden area, and the entire property was walled from the street at the end of a cul-de-sac. It seemed very private. Below the front door was a tile with the engraving CURSUM PERFICIO. Over the years, some have translated this Latin motto to mean, “My journey ends here”—suggesting that Marilyn had a death wish of some kind and may have had this tile installed to send a message. However, the literal translation is “I complete the course,” and it has been used in the doorways of European homes for many years as a way of welcoming guests. It was installed when the house was built, some thirty years before Marilyn took ownership. Marilyn said she was looking forward to furnishing the house with Mexican-style furnishings that she hoped to purchase during her trips to that part of the world. Despite the important purchase, though, by the end of the year Marilyn was in terrible shape. Her spirits had plummeted and there seemed no way for her to rebound. She was scheduled to go before cameras in 1962 with a new movie, Something’s Got to Give, but she was far from interested in it.

Whereas she had been more or less fine—at the very least her emotional illness seemed to have been stabilized—when she was with her half sister Berniece in New York, in Los Angeles she was not well at all. Those in her circle who did not know about her diagnosis attributed this change in her demeanor to the constant therapy she was receiving from Dr. Greenson. She was with him almost every day. Then, at night, she would often have dinner with the Greenson family. Sometimes she would stay overnight. Doubtless, the biggest problem Dr. Greenson faced was the damage he did to his image with certain aspects of his advice and behavior. Some of what he did was strange, was suspicious, and did not put him in a very good light. For instance, consider this story:

One of Marilyn’s best friends was Ralph Roberts, an actor and her personal masseur, who had the nickname “Rafe.” Because he was a constant companion of Marilyn’s, she had sent for him to be in Los Angeles with her. She thought of him as a brother. One day, Dr. Greenson announced that Roberts had to go. “There are one too many Ralphs in the picture,” he told Marilyn. She couldn’t believe her ears. “But he’s one of my best friends,” she said in protest. “I don’t care, he’s got to go, Marilyn,” Greenson said. “But I call him Rafe, not Ralph,” she said, now becoming hysterical. It would appear that she actually thought the problem was in her friend’s name—not in his presence. “Rafe! Rafe!” she said over and over again. Greenson concluded, “I don’t care what you call him. You are much too dependent on him.” That night, Marilyn told Ralph that he had to go back to New York. According to people who knew her best at that time, she sobbed all night long. Still, she felt she was powerless to do anything about it; that’s how reliant she had become on Dr. Greenson.

Another example of Greenson’s seemingly territorial nature where Marilyn was concerned can be found in a letter he wrote to a colleague (in May 1961): “Above all, I try to help her not to be so lonely, and therefore to escape into the drugs or get involved with very destructive people who will engage in some sort of sadomasochistic relationship with her. This is the kind of planning you do with an adolescent girl who needs guidance, friendliness and firmness, and she seems to take it very well. She said for the first time, she looked forward to coming to Los Angeles, because she could speak to me. Of course, this does not prevent her from canceling several hours to go to Palm Springs with Mr. F.S. [doubtless, Frank Sinatra]. She is as unfaithful to me as one is to a parent.”

It seems true that Marilyn felt inclined to explain her romantic experiences to Greenson as if he had a right to sanction them. For instance, in March 1961, she wrote a letter to him in which she described “a fling on a wing” with someone she did not name. She said he was unselfish in bed but that she knew Greenson would not approve of the relationship. Many reporters over the years have suggested that she was referring to one of the Kennedy brothers. She may also have been referring to Frank Sinatra.

Making the situation all the more uncomfortable to observers at the time was that Marilyn’s new attorney was Mickey Rudin—Ralph Greenson’s brother-in-law. Rudin was also Frank Sinatra’s lawyer and, moreover, Greenson was Sinatra’s therapist. “Why in the world Sinatra would have Greenson as his shrink fully knowing the condition of his other famous patient, Marilyn, was a mystery to everyone,” said one of Marilyn’s friends at that time. “It was all just a little creepy. There was just too much Greenson everywhere you looked.”

Pat Kennedy Lawford was one of those who did not support Marilyn’s relationship with Dr. Greenson, and she made that clear during a luncheon with Marilyn. Her father, Joseph, suffered a stroke in the fall of 1961, and she was having a difficult time coping with the fact that it had left such a vibrant man paralyzed. Marilyn and Pat arranged to have a drink and catch up at the Beachcomber restaurant in Malibu, a favorite haunt of Pat’s. When she had her son Christopher in 1955, she and Peter stopped there to celebrate on the way home from the hospital. They just plopped the infant right down on the bar in his little bassinet, ordered a couple of dirty martinis, and drank up. That was a happy, if not also crazy, day. However, on this later day, Pat was feeling melancholy and sad. According to Pat Brennan, who joined the two for drinks, Pat cried about her father while Marilyn watched, almost distantly.

“Do you love your father?” Marilyn asked Pat, who was shocked by the question.

“Of course I do,” Pat replied.

“Dr. Greenson says I don’t need a father,” Marilyn said. “They’re optional—not everyone has one.”

If Marilyn had been trying to console Pat, it certainly wasn’t working. More likely, however, Monroe was simply free-associating her conversation, without much of an agenda. This wasn’t one of Marilyn’s good days.

“You are seeing too much of that guy,” Pat replied coolly, “he’s got you under a spell or something.”

“But he’s like a father to me,” Marilyn confided, “and I can trust him not to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?” asked Pat.

Marilyn had been confiding in Pat about her need to “quiet her mind” for quite some time, and she believed Pat had to know what she was talking about.

“That I’m like my mother,” Marilyn said.

Pat’s face hardened. Later she would say that it dawned on her that Greenson had convinced Marilyn her condition was serious enough that she needed him—indefinitely. “Now you listen to me,” she said, according to Brennan’s memory of the conversation. “That man doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Your mother is a very sick woman.”

“So am I,” Marilyn said quite plainly.

There was silence between the two. Pat Brennan watched the scene play out without saying a word. Everyone just looked at each other for a long moment, until Marilyn finally began to cry.

“Don’t be angry with me,” she said, as she stood and started to collect her belongings.

“Why would I be angry? Sit down, where are you going?”

“Just don’t be angry with me. I couldn’t take that.”

Marilyn headed for the door, and the two Pats—Lawford and Brennan—followed. They caught up with Marilyn in front of the restaurant, still visibly upset. Pat Kennedy Lawford hugged her.

“This is all that damn doctor’s fault.”

“No it’s not,” Marilyn said. “But it’s not my fault either.”

“Let’s just talk about this,” Pat insisted.

“No. I’ve upset you both,” Marilyn said. She gave Lawford a quick peck on the cheek and Brennan the same. Then she looked the former in the eye and said, “I swear, this isn’t my fault.”

Marilyn, again on the verge of breaking down, walked off toward her car while both women were left to try to make sense of what had just happened.