(The following article of mine appeared shortly after the death of Paulette Goddard. At the time it was written, not much was known about her final years. Originally the piece was commissioned by Connoisseur magazine but the magazine folded before the piece was finished. I eventually placed it (in this rather truncated version) in Quest. Since the article came out, a biography of Goddard and Erich Maria Remarque has been written and her films have gained new popularity on TCM.)

The Life of Paulette Goddard

On April 23, 1990, a crowd gathered at Sotheby’s to bid on a collection of jewelry belonging to Paulette Goddard, a former Ziegfeld Follies showgirl who had overcome childhood poverty to become one of Hollywood’s wealthiest and most glamorous stars.

The collection included Paulette’s famous diamond necklace composed of 570 stones (that she said she accumulated “by getting engaged so often. I never give anything back.”), a bombe emerald and diamond bracelet her former husband Charlie Chaplin gave her as a consolation prize when she lost the part of Scarlett O’Hara to Vivien Leigh, and a two-foot string of rubies and diamonds that was so heavy, Paulette used to brag, that she “could only wear it a few minutes at a time.”

But just when the first selection came up for sale, the auctioneer made a startling announcement. “The catalogue should no longer read, ‘Property of Paulette Goddard,’ he stated solemnly. “But ‘From the estate of…’” A gasp was heard throughout the room. Few knew that Paulette Goddard had died earlier that morning at her villa in Ascona, Switzerland.

To those who knew the actress well, the strange coincidence did not come as a surprise. “She saw herself as these things,” says her old friend actress Evelyn Keyes who remembers the time the two of them went swimming off Goddard’s yacht near Catalina. Keyes was startled to see Paulette dive in the ocean with her diamond necklace on. When suitors such as Clark Gable, Howard Hughes and President Camacho of Mexico courted her, Paulette always insisted on receiving jewels intead of flowers as gifts. “I can get flowers from my garden,” she would say.

Two weeks after the auction, people were again stunned when it was announced that Paulette had left $20 million to NYU. A school dorm was named in her honor. Added to the bequest was Paulette’s property in Switzerland valued at $3 million and her suite at the Ritz Towers in New York worth about a quarter of a million. It was an ironic gesture from a woman who boasted “I never give anything back,” especially since Paulette never attended college. In fact, the actress Michael Arlen once dubbed “Hollywood’s most civilized woman” had never even finished junior high school.

Yet despite her achievements and generosity, Paulette was not a popular figure. In some circles she was as famous for her cruelty as she was for her films. At her funeral in Switzerland not a single person outside her immediate staff came to pay their respects. “Paulette used to always tell me,” her secretary Lois Granato says, “It’s just you and me against the world. There’s no one else out there.’ But when she died it came as a shock. This was a famous woman who was important at some time. How can this just be me?”

The answer lies somewhere within the tangled web of myths and deceptions that Paulette compulsively wove around the unsettling facts of her early life. Throughout her career, Paulette ruthlessly shunned giving interviews. Once when a reporter appeared on her driveway, she ordered her chauffeur to run the man down.

Paulette Goddard always said he was born in 1915 but the marker on her grave in Ascona reads 1910. Paulette claimed she was originally from Great Neck, Long Island, but she was actually born in the far less affluent town of Whitestone Landing, Queens. In an early press release she stated that she was from a “well-known New England family, socially inclined.” But Paulette’s mother, Alta, was from a middle class Mormon family in Utah. Alta, however, was not religious and in 1908 she eloped to New York City with a Jewish cigar maker named Joseph Russell Levy.

Two years later, Alta gave birth to her only child, Pauline Marion Levy. Shortly afterwards, the couple split up and a custody battle ensued, forcing Alta to find work as a hatmaker at Macy’s. The sculpture dealer Michael Hall remembers Paulette telling him over and over again “you don’t know what it’s like growing up poor.”

By puberty, Paulette Goddard (she had dropped the name Levy and glamorized Pauline) realized that her good looks could command attention. Lois Granato recalls Paulette telling her that she would play hookey from junior high school then “stand at the corner of Broadway and 79th Street and lift her skirt to the guys coming out of the subway station.” Actress Clare Trevor is one of the few people who knew Paulette then. “We were freshmen at George Washington High School,” she says. “I remember her because we were both initiated into the same sorority. Paulette was a year older than I and very sexy. All the boys were crazy about her. They were gaga.” Years later Trevor ran into Paulette again in Malibu. But when Trevor approached Paulette and asked, “Aren’t you Pauline Levy?” the actress gave her the cold shoulder and answered, “No.”

At 13, Paulette dropped out of school to help Alta pay the rent on their apartment at 95th and Amsterdam Avenue. She found work, as a hat model for Hattie Carnegie, as a child model at Saks, and as a seamstress. Then Paulette took up dance and acting, and dyed her naturally red hair platinum blonde. When Alta’s brother introduced Paulette to Florenz Ziegfeld, the flamboyant producer immediately cast her as “Peaches” in the hit show, No Foolin’. Paulette wasted no time in attracting attention, parading along Fifth Avenue with a pair of Irish wolfhounds, and causing a furor by suing Ziegfeld for discrimination, because she said, he always favored brunettes. The faux-blonde Paulette knew what she was up to. She soon got her name and photograph in the papers.

In 1927, Paulette abandoned her career to marry the handsome playboy Edgar William James, son of a North Carolina timber magnate. But the marriage was short-lived. James’ compulsive gambling and the ordeals of country life (Paulette suffered an accident falling off a horse during a fox hunt) didn’t suit Paulette’s ambitious plans and she quickly obtained a Reno divorce in 1929.

Descending upon L.A., Paulette landed bit parts at Paramount, Warner Bros. and in a Hal Roach comedy starring Laurel & Hardy. Showing up on the set in pajamas lined in blue fox she quicly earned a reputation as “the most extravagantly gowned, luxurious girl in Hollywood.” In 1932 at a party on Joseph Schenck’s yacht, Paulette met her next husband — Charlie Chaplin. Then 43, “the Little Tramp” was bowled over by Paulette’s gamine spirit. They were, in fact, similar types. Both had come from poor backgrounds, and had been forced to be childhood breadwinners in their families. Chaplin set about transforming her into his leading lady both at home and in his films, Modern Times and The Great Dictator.

But even though Paulette served as Chaplin’s muse, she took as much as she gave. “Charlie always said at some point he could no longer be in the same room with Paulette because she sapped all his energy,” Lois Granato says. There were marital frictions as well. Chaplin, whose sexual prowess was legendary, had a roving eye, yet could also be jealous. Paulette used to sneak out of the house at night to go dancing without Chaplin. Early the next morning, she would take off her evening gown, shoes, and jewelry and hide them in the refrigerator.

Paulette was beginning to gain a reputation as a femme fatale. She later told Anita Loos that “any man I have ever been involved with has either died young, tried to commit suicide or had a nervous breakdown.” Yet her effect on men was extraordinary. Intellectuals like H. G. Wells and Aldous Huxley were floored by her. Her romance with George Gershwin ended suddenly when it was discovered he had a fatal brain tumor. The composer had offered to marry her, if she left Chaplin, but it was already too late. He died four months later. It was through Gershwin that Paulette met her next love, Diego Rivera, the flamboyant Marxist Mexican artist.

In 1939, Paulette was in Mexico when she got a call from the artist saying his house was surrounded by police. An attempt had been made on Trotsky’s life, and Rivera ws a prime suspect. As Michael Hall remembers Paulette telling him, she jumped in her convertible, charmed her way through the guards, smuggled Rivera out of his house by hiding him in the backseat of her car, covering his bulky frame with canvases. These were the paintings, Hall says, that Rivera gave her, including his masterpiece, “The Calla Lilies” which she later sold for $429,000.

In 1940, Paulette was also having an affair with the Hungarian emigre director Anatole Litvak. One night at Ciro’s, Paulette’s diamond shoulder strap fell to the floor and Litvak dived under the table to retrieve it. Observers joked that he was engaging in some kind of sex act. Almost immediately the rumor spread throughout the movie industry, and was embellished with each retelling. It was a scandal that would dog her the rest of her life, and virtually destroyed Litvak’s career. Jean Howard was there that night and claims the whole episode was nothing more than a “myth.” Paulette’s Swiss secretary, Ruth Fantoni, once asked her boss whether the Ciro’s story was true. “She laughed about it,” Fantoni says. “But she never talked about it. She was just smiling. She kept it a secret until the end.”

By 1942, Paulette’s marriage to Chaplin was over and she moved out. Whether they had ever been officially married has always been a subject of debate (costing her, some say, the lead in Gone With the Wind) but they were officially divorced in Mexico. Starring next in Second Chance opposite Fred Astaire, Paulette met her third husband, actor Burgess Meredith. From the beginning of their unlikely marriage, Paulette tried to turn Meredith into the type of man who could support her increasingly extravagant lifestyle. Together they bought Modiglianis, Picassos and Braques, and opened an antique store in upstate New York. The Merediths also produced the ambitious flop Diary of a Chambermaid directed by Jean Renoir. Many consider it to be Paulette’s finest performance. At one point, a close friend says, Paulette became pregnant with Meredith’s child but suffered a miscarriage during the filming of the popular epic Kitty. By 1949 Paulette was restless and obtained another Mexican divorce, stating that she only married Burgess Meredith because “her lawyers told her she needed a tax deduction.”

Back on her own, Paulette found that her career was on the skids. Even though she had been nominated for an Oscar as best-supporting actress in Hold Back the Dawn (next to The Women, one of her best performances), she was never taken seriously by the critics. In the 50s she starred in one turkey after another, most notably the disastrous Bride of Vengeance in which she played Lucrezia Borgia.

Meanwhile her father died, leaving her $1 in his will, a cruel statement of his antipathy for her. Back in 1940, he had sued Paulette for $600 a month support, claiming unflatering remarks she had made about him in an article had caused him to lose his job. The case was settled out of court, but it is clear Paulette never fully resolved her feelings towards her father. “It was part of her very being,” says Evelyn Keyes. “Somewhere along the line her mother encouraged Paulette to get things. A diamond is forever, but life isn’t. Nothing is. And I bet her mother said ‘Don’t ever depend on anybody but yourself. They will leave you. Go get it! Take care of yourself!”

Her close friend Celestine Wallis feels that Levy’s mistreatment of Paulette left deep psychological scars that manifested themselves later in Paulette’s seeking out father figures in older men. “She appreciated being desired,” Celestine says. “When you have been abandoned by your father, it is a very great thing to have men desire you, to prove to yourself that it wasn’t your fault.”

In 1953, Paulette finally met the man who would come to replace her father — Erich Maria Remarque, the author of All Quiet On The Western Front who had finally broken off his romance with Marlene Dietrich. Paulette was performing in a tour of Waltz of the Toreadors, and according to Michael Hall, “was down to her last few hundred dollars.” “They were both a little forgotten,” says Mariana Feilchenfeldt, a Zurich art dealer whose husband had sold Remarque many of his Impressionist paintings including Cezannes, Monets and Renoirs. Facing the end of her film career, Paulette saw in Remarque the solution to her problems. “She called me and said, ‘I’ve hit the jackpot!’” Michael Hall says. “I think I’ve met someone who can really take care of me.” Remarque proved he was up to the task, showering her with lavish gifts. “Erich was her father, her brother, her best friend,” says Celestine Wallis. “He understood and adored her. He loved her just the way she was.”

Writing to her mother, Paulette excitedly recounted how “Eric” (even her stationary was printed with his name misspelled) would take her on buying binges in Zurich, Geneva and Venice, returning with truckloads of 18th century Italian rococo antiques. Remarque had a fetish for gilded mirrors and Oriental rugs and would return from auctions having bought entire lots instead of single pieces. Erik Preminger, the son of Gypsy Rose Lee and Otto Preminger, recalls visiting Casa Monte Tabor in Ascona and finding that the rugs “were literally stacked four and five high. You had to step over them to get across the room.”

Sometimes the art treasures spilled out beyond the French doors. Evelyn Keyes recalls one incident in which Paulette and some friends were dining al fresco. One of the guests, a Hungarian art collector, noticed with alarm that Paulette had hung one of her Renoirs outside. Suddenly it started to rain, but Paulette paid it no mind. “I don’t know about you Paulette,” the man said to her. “But in Hungary we take our Renoirs inside when it rains.” Paulette, Keyes says, “roared with laughter.”

After Remarque’s death in 1970, Paulette’s life slowly deteriorated. She took up with Andy Warhol and became a fixture on the New York scene. But she was no longer the toast of the town. “As she got older,” Granato says, “the world she knew wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t in the spotlight. Suddenly she was on the sidelines. She would walk into a shoe store on 57th Street, dragging her fur coat on the floor, and she’d say, ‘Hello, I am Paulette Goddard,’ and they would say ‘One moment, Ma’am, we are very busy.’ Then she’d turn to me and say ‘What is wrong with these people? I will never go into that store again. All those people in there are crazy!’” She also started to pull ghoulish pranks that would make Joan Crawford shudder. Lois Granato recalls that on her second day on the job, Paulette gave her a jar full of caviar. “I said thank you very much, took it home and threw it away,” Granato says. The next day Paulette asked how it was and Granato said fine. “And she said, ‘I am so glad because it was in a big glass bowl that dropped on the floor and cracked into little pieces. And I thought what shall we do? So I thought wouldn’t it be nice to give it to my new secretary.”

Even Warhol was worried about her sanity, noting in his diary that “Paulette was acting nutty. I think she’s losing her marbles. She was talking about getting machine gunned.” Part of what was making Paulette act so strange was the fact that she had had a radical mastectomy in 1975. “The surgery was probably too drastic by today’s standards,” Granato says. But the psychological effects were even more devastating. Unlike other well-known figures of her day, Paulette kept her mastectomy a closely-guarded secret. “It was a very sad, horrible thing,” Granato says. “She was alive and full of energy but she hid all the time.” By 1979, Paulette had become severely depressed. Michael Hall says she called him to tell him she was going to jump out of her window, but he calmed her down with a joke. But there was little anyone could do. According to her medical records, Paulette attempted suicide for the first time that year by taking an overdose of sleeping pills. When that failed, she further retreated into herself.

As a side effect of the mastectomy, Paulette developed a severe case of emphysema. Forced to rely on oxygen tanks for air, she was trapped inside her lakeside villa, no longer able to make the trip back to New York for the winter. Occasionally she would ask her chauffeur to drive her into Ascona for dinner by the lake or she would come down to the kitchen to watch her old movies on television. But she rarely sat through them to the end. “She was ruined,” Celestine Wallis says. “The last time she went into the hospital, we thought she was going to die. Then when she got home again, she didn’t take care of herself. She had her own ideas about what she could and would not put up with. There are some people who want to die by their own rules. If she couldn’t be a beautiful, exciting, wonderful woman and be a star, she didn’t want to be.”

On three more occasions, Paulette attempted suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. “She wanted to die,” her Swiss physician, Dr. Bisig, says, “but she was like a cat with nine lives. She took really big doses, yet survived. No one else with such a poor capacity to breathe could have lived as long.”

In the end Paulette Goddard died of heart failure. As per her wishes, she was cremated, her ashes placed in a solid gold urn and interred next to Remarque’s and Alta’s graves in a small cemetery located behind her villa. According to her housekeeper, Antonietta, Paulette had finally found contentment. “She always told me,” Antonietta says, “that she had three husbands and several fiances waiting for her in heaven.”