THE PLOT THICKENS
Cult authors’ twisted fates
Before E.L. James’ steamy Fifty Shades series and Jackie Collins and Judith Krantz set the publishing industry alight with their sizzling stories, the scandalous debut novels of two struggling women became runaway bestsellers.
Those books were Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls, and they would change the lives of their authors, Grace Metalious and Jacqueline Susann. Unfortunately, neither woman enjoyed her money and fame for long – they both died before their time.
But their books went down in history for capturing the attention
of millions of readers with saucy storylines, and revolutionising fiction for women.
More than half a century later, they remain on the list of the highest-selling books of all time, with Peyton Place selling 12 million copies and Valley of the Dolls a whopping 31 million.
Grace took the publishing world by storm in 1956 with her very first novel. She had started writing Peyton Place
– then called The Tree and the Blossom – two years earlier aged 30, as a poverty-stricken housewife living in a ramshackle cottage in New Hampshire with her teacher husband
George and their three kids.
Grace was so driven to finish her first novel that she refused to do housework or cook meals, and would lock her children, Marsha, Mike and Cindy, out of the house so she’d be left in peace. Her book was about dark secrets and scandals in a small town, and it piqued the interest of a literary agent called Jacques Chambrun, who sent it out to publishers.
The manuscript landed on the desk of junior editor Leona Nevler, whose job it was to go through the huge “slush pile” of unsolicited drafts, looking for books worthy of publication.
Leona liked The Tree and the Blossom, but it was too risqué for the publishing company she worked for. During a subsequent job interview at a rival firm, Leona mentioned Grace’s book and handed the manuscript to commissioning editor Kitty Messner, who loved it.
Jacques telegramed Grace the good news that her book would be published, and Grace rang her best friend in a state of high excitement.
Years later, that friend would recall, “Grace would never be really poor or really happy again.”
Helped by clever marketing, Grace’s tale of illicit sex, secret lives, incest, abortion, murder and drunkenness in a small town became an overnight bestseller. She became fabulously wealthy and famous, and she certainly made good headline fodder, thanks to being a rather colourful
character. She swore like a trooper, drank like a fish, dressed like a man – in sneakers, jeans and flannel shirts – and cheated on George, who left her.
Because of the salacious content of the book, and the rumours it was based on real people and events in Grace’s hometown, she and her children suffered a vicious backlash and were often ostracised.
But she tried not to let it bother her, getting her revenge by spending lavishly. The money went on flash new cars, cases of Champagne, five-star hotels, a luxurious mansion, and trips to California and the Caribbean.
Her bank balance – and her spending – swelled further when she signed over the movie rights for Peyton Place. The 1957 film was a much more sanitised version of the book but was also hugely popular, earning nine Oscar nominations and reviving the flagging career of actress Lana Turner.
By then divorced, Grace had a new man in her life, radio personality T.J. Martin.
They became fixtures at the local bar, where Grace was as famed for her ability to knock back alcohol as she was for her book. They married, but their relationship was violent and short-lived.
By 1960, T.J. was gone. So too was a lot of Grace’s fortune, so she agreed to write a sequel, Return to Peyton Place, for $165,000. The manuscript was unintelligible and had to be re-written by a ghostwriter, but it inspired a movie that did reasonably well.
A new man arrived on the scene in 1963 – a British journalist called John Rees, who came to interview Grace. Within weeks he had moved in with her and thrown her son Mike, then 16, out of the house.
Friends reported that Grace was drinking so much that she was delusional and incoherent much of the time.
In February 1964, she fell ill and was rushed to hospital. Three days later, she summoned her lawyer and changed her will, leaving everything to John. Two hours after she signed, she died of complications of cirrhosis of the liver. She was 39.
The Metalious children contested the will. When it was revealed that John had a wife and five children back in the
UK, he dropped his claims to the estate. Not that there was anything to inherit. Though Grace had $41,000 in the bank, she also had debts of $200,000. On top of her profligate spending, her agent had been stealing from her for years.
Six months after Grace died, a TV show based on Peyton Place began screening. A precursor to shows such as Dallas and Dynasty, it was the first ever primetime soap opera, and made stars of two new young actors, Ryan O’Neal and Mia Farrow. Peyton Place ran for five years and made a staggering $62 million for the TV network. None of it went to Grace’s estate – the deal she’d made years earlier when the movie was made meant she’d signed over all her screen rights.
Later, it would be pointed out that Peyton Place had such a big impact because it covered issues normally kept hidden in polite society, and provided people who’d read it with a chance to talk about subjects that were usually forbidden.
It came along at a time when women who were openly sexual were forced to have electroshock or psychiatric treatment to “cure” their behaviour. And while a lot of the focus was on the steamy parts, Grace was a talented literary writer who made sharp observations about the social culture of the time.
She never knew it, but her writing and success helped to inspire another aspiring novelist.
Jacqueline Susann, whose book Valley of the Dolls was published 10 years after Peyton Place, had actually met Grace behind the scenes of a TV news show.
It was just after Peyton Place had been published, and Grace was being interviewed on the programme while aspiring actress Jacqueline – known as Jackie – was doing live commercials. When a very nervous Grace ripped her girdle before going on air,
Jackie came to her rescue.
Fast-forward six years, to Christmas Day 1962, and Jackie began scribbling in a notebook about the terrible turn her life had taken. Her acting career was in the doldrums. Her husband, producer and publicist Irving Mansfield, was out of work, and they were struggling to pay the bills for the institution where their severely autistic only child Guy had been secretly hospitalised for more than 10 years. Worse, Jackie (44) had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
She wrote in the notebook, “I can’t die without leaving something big… I think I can write. Let me live to make it.”
She made a pact with God: if she could live for another 10 years, she would prove herself to be a bestselling author – bigger even than Grace Metalious – and she would make enough money to ensure Guy was properly cared for throughout his life.
The former beauty queen came up with the idea of a novel about show business and drug use, based on her experiences in both the acting industry and with the sedative she took to numb the pain of the grief she felt over Guy.
Before she could work on that idea, a friend convinced her to turn a series of letters she’d written about her beloved poodle Josephine into a book. Every Night, Josephine! was a success and gave her the confidence to tackle her novel, which she called Valley of the Dolls. (“Dolls” was her nickname for the barbiturates she took.)
Valley of the Dolls is the story of three women, including a Hollywood star and a showgirl, who become hooked on “dolls” due to the stresses in their lives.
Drug use was a taboo topic at the time, and the book also touched on the controversial subjects of premarital sex, adultery, lesbian relationships and abortion. Characters in the book were reminiscent of (and most likely based on) several celebrities of the time, including Judy Garland, Ethel Merman and Dean Martin.
Publisher Berney Geis gave the manuscript to his editorial staff, whose response was, “Don’t publish this book, it’s trash.” But he also gave it to his wife, who told him, “I feel like I picked up the phone and was listening in on a conversation of women talking about how their husbands are in bed.
“Who would hang up on a conversation like that?”
In February 1966, Valley of the Dolls was published and “exploded like a landmine in a placid landscape”, according to one critic. Reviews weren’t great but that didn’t matter
– it zoomed to the top of the bestseller list, helped in part by the extensive publicity tour Jackie undertook. She later admitted that to stay bubbly and bright under the punishing schedule of media interviews, she’d taken amphetamines.
Hollywood beckoned, and a movie was soon made, starring Patty Duke, Sharon Tate and Barbara Parkins (who’d found fame in the TV version of Peyton Place). Judy Garland was also cast, playing veteran theatre star Helen Lawson, but was fired after two weeks for forgetting her lines.
Jackie hated the film version but it was a huge hit, so she kept quiet. She bonded with several of the stars, including Sharon, who invited her to a dinner party one night in August 1969. At the last minute, Jackie decided to spend the evening with another friend and didn’t go. The next morning she fell into shock when she learned that Sharon, who was eight months pregnant, and her guests had been murdered by killers later identified as the Manson “family”.
Jackie went on to write two more books, The Love Machine and Once is Not Enough, and a novella, Dolores, which didn’t have the phenomenal success of Valley of the Dolls but still did well.
The reason Jackie’s writing resonated was not just the explicit nature of many of the scenes, but the fact that she had a talent for portraying emotional female experiences at a time in society when women’s roles were undergoing seismic changes. She was smart and sassy, and that showed in her books.
Valley of the Dolls made
Jackie very famous and extremely rich – she’d achieved exactly what she’d set out to do in December 1962.
And then, in January 1973, just after her 10-year pact with God expired, a nagging cough led to a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer, which had spread to her lungs.
She kept the news secret and went ahead with a book tour. The powerful drugs she was given caused hair to grow on her face, and she underwent painful electrolysis so she would still look good on camera.
She did such a good job of keeping her terminal illness under wraps that after she took her last breath, on September 21, 1974, the press initially thought the news of her death was a publicity stunt.
She had just turned 56.
Her friends thought it was a shame that the years of mega success had not lasted longer. But shortly before her death she’d told one of them, “These last 10 years were the most meaningful of my life. I’ve been everywhere, met everyone, done it all.”
She had achieved her goal of becoming a bestselling writer – surpassing the success of Grace Metalious – and providing financially for
Guy. And she had become a part of history. She told one interviewer, “I think I will be remembered as the voice of the ‘60s… Andy Warhol, the Beatles and me.”