Thoroughly Modern Mamie
Several months ago [1968], on a business trip to Los Angeles, FLING’S executive editor, Robert Livingston, met and interviewed actress Mamie Van Doren. In the privacy of her plush, Beverly Hills home, he talked with Mamie about her early life, her spectacular career and her three marriages. Speaking into a portable tape recorder, Mamie proved to be a bright, intelligent woman, not at all like the stereotyped dumb blonde the press clipping led us to believe. Mamie, at present, is married to Lee Meyers, a 21-year-old professional ballplayer under contract to the Chicago Cubs. He is currently pitching in the minor leagues and is also reported to being an heir to over a million dollar estate. Through Lee, Mamie now has the financial and emotional security she always needed. She is still active today, but she works only when and where she desires. Her face and outstanding figure haven’t changed a bit. Based on the following interview, Mamie is still one of Hollywood’s most beautiful people. —The Editors
We might as well start at the beginning. Is Mamie Van Doren your real name?
Of course not, silly. It’s Joan. Joan Olander.
Why did you change it? Joan’s a pretty name.
Actually, it really wasn’t my idea. Universal Studios changed it. That’s when I was first signed to a movie contract. Later, they told me how they finally arrived at it. The first name was taken from President Eisenhower’s wife. The second name, Van Doren, was taken from Charles Van Doren who was well known when the big money TV quiz shows were on the air some years back.
Were you happy with the name they picked?
Not at first. I thought it sounded kind of phony. But later on, I got used to it. Now, it’s part of me. I hardly ever think of myself as Joan Olander anymore. She’s just someone I once knew-years ago.
But why was it necessary to change your regular name to something contrived and obviously sex oriented?
I suppose in those days, Universal was very sex conscious. They were extremely successful with a string of low budget pictures emphasizing sex and violence. In the trade, I understand, they’re called “T and S” films.
What does that stand for?
It’s sort of embarrassing. Well, anyway, (she laughs) “T” refers to, you know, a girl’s bosom. The “S” refers to sand. I can’t help it-that’s what they’re called. All these films had two things in common. A heroine with big, partly exposed bosoms and lots of sand.
What films did Universal put you in?
The first one was, The All American, starring Tony Curtis. My costume in that picture was a waitress uniform— the same one, in fact, that Shelly Winters wore in A Double Life. She got her first Academy Award in that picture, so I thought it would bring me luck.
Did it?
Well, not at first.
What about your early life-before you became Mamie Van Doren, the movie star and sex symbol?
Where should I start?
Anywhere you want.
You want to know everything? Even if I told you, I’ll bet you wouldn’t print it. They never do.
That depends.
On what?
If you tell it like it was, or you tell it like a phony, made-up type of flack interview for the teen-age movie magazines. It’s up to you. Tell it like you want to. You understand?
I guess so. But you did say this was for a men’s magazine, didn’t you?
That’s right. It’s for FLING FESTIVAL.
I never heard of that one.
It’s a special issue put out by FLING Magazine.
FLING? That’s funny. You probably won’t believe this, but my husband buys it occasionally and brings it home. Really—I’ve seen it around the house. Isn’t that a gas? He reads it and I like to look at the pictures of the girls.
Frankly, we don’t usually get that kind of reaction from women. Women for the most part, resent the models in FLING. They’re very busty.
Well, they’re certainly built, if we’re talking about the same magazine.
We are.
I still think it’s funny, though. I enjoy looking at the photos and try to get ideas for my nightclub act. You know—poses, expressions, that sort of thing. But I’m getting away from the subject, again, as usual. Let’s begin again. Ask me a question.
O.K. For starters, where were you born?
Rowena, South Dakota.
Where’s that?
About 10 miles west of Sioux Falls.
When did you first become interested in show business?
I’ve always liked to make up dance steps and sing as long as I can remember. Mother would encourage me. She always said I’d become a movie star if that was what I wanted myself.
Were you happy in Rowena?
Well, you might imagine—a swinging place it wasn’t. But I grew up pretty much like everyone else on the farms. You know, with the same dreams and ambitions of other girls my age. Most of us hoped to move some day to a big city. But the real city for me was Hollywood. Even as a child, that’s where I wanted to live.
What about boys Mamie? Were you interested in them at that tender age?
I suppose I didn’t think about them much in those days. All I had on my mind was Hollywood and becoming a big movie star. But I’ll always remember my first kiss, though. I was twelve and he was thirteen. His name was Tommy. It was at a party at someone’s house and he grabbed me and gently kissed me. God, it was so thrilling. I wanted him to do it again, but the other kids walked in and made fun of us. It’s strange—after all these years, I still remember that first kiss. Hmmm.
When did you actually get to Hollywood?
Oh, about a year later. My father, who had found a good job in field-transportation work, sent for Mother and myself. This was during World War II. I was only thirteen, but the thought of living in Los Angeles was like a dream to me.
Were the people in Los Angeles much different from the farm people you knew in Rowena?
I really can’t say about the girls. But the boys certainly were. Trouble was, even when I was thirteen, I was as physically mature as any eighteen-year-old girl. So naturally, wherever I went, boys and men would stare and sometimes make crude remarks.
Did this cause you embarrassment or present any problems?
Well, I did have a sickening experience once when I was fourteen. I was getting off a bus and walking home one day, when a car with two men pulled alongside me. The man driving asked if I’d like a ride home. I told him no, and started to walk away. But the other man, in the back seat yelled, “Come here a minute, honey—I want to see something.” So I walked closer to the car. He told me to look inside the window. As I did, he opened his trousers and exposed himself. I’d never seen a man’s organ before. I was horrified. Luckily, a police car was coming down the street so it must have frightened the men. They just took off. Afterwards, I could only think of all men as dirty minded animals. Fortunately for me later, I came to understand this experience better and I don’t think it scarred my life. But from that time on, I was more cautious about becoming overly triendly with strangers. Except, of course, when I met Frankie.
The ideal size
“I was one of the first women to discuss the penis size of men I knew.”
While the men sit in judgment of the size, shape, and firmness of a girls breasts or behind, discussion in the ladies’ lockers is concerned with the firmness, shape, angle, and (yes, it’s true, fellas,) the size of her last night’s date’s penis. There would likely be a critique of his ability to bring her to a climax, his willingness to do so, his imagination in achieving this, and the duration of his enthusiasm. (Mamie Van Doren, Playing the field : my story. 1987).
In my autobiography, Playing the Field, I was one of the first women to discuss the penis size of men I knew. Because of that, the book caused quite a stir…. Talk show hosts, especially men, were intimidated by a woman who frankly evaluated men the way men had evaluated women over the years— by inches.
I said that seven and a half inches was my preferred minimum acceptable size, with eight as ideal. What, you may ask, is the basis for such a specific measurement? It is a complicated equation, to be sure— part astrology, part East Indian Kama Sutra, and part old fashioned carpenter’s tape measure. And experience. It’s the scientific method: experimentation. Go figure. It’s the right size.
Small guys, please don’t come crying to me. It’s not the end of the world. You’ve probably compensated beautifully for your little shortcoming by developing a great sense of humor or becoming a smooth lambada dancer or a skillful bridge player. Or maybe you’ve trained your tongue to do things not even imagined by the guys with the maxi-salamis.
Many people would like you to write another book. Do you have another book inside you?
I have more than one in me. The question is, can the world stand another book by Mamie? Playing the Field caused a God-awful stir in its day because I wrote candidly about my love affairs and—most especially frightening for the men who read and reviewed it—PENIS SIZE.
Would they tell you that?
Men who interviewed me during the book tour were so put off and uncomfortable discussing the subject that it was laughable. For years, everyone knew what my bust size was. All the magazines trumpeted about my 38-24-35 and every other glamour girl’s measurements, but when I started talking about how Burt Reynolds or Steve Cochran were HUNG, well, bar the doors, Nelly, there’s a she-devil in town. (Alan Mercer’s Profile)
Who was Frankie?
I guess you’d have to say he was my first big love. Sounds corny to talk about it now. But then, other people know about it, too. Of course, if I’m boring you with these school girl stories, let me know.
You haven’t seen me yawn yet.
Well, you did say to be honest, so here goes. Frankie was about sixteen and I was only fourteen. We had seen each other around high school but had never actually met. That’s not his real name. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him if he’s married and has a family now. Anyway, Frankie came from a very wealthy family. He drove a white Cadillac to school, and because he was an R.O.T.C. cadet captain, he’d always wear his uniform. God—he was handsome. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. When we finally did meet, it was love for both of us. We began going steady immediately.
Weren’t you a bit young to go steady?
You don’t know much about California kids, do you? And remember, while I was only fourteen, I looked and acted much older. Of course, I certainly didn’t advertise the romance to my parents.
Then what happened?
We were together as much as possible as I said. On weekends and during school vacations, Frankie and I would spend all our time at the beach. We had a favorite spot—near Malibu. One day, or I should say, night—it happened. We made love on the sand, wrapped together in a beach blanket. At first, I was scared. I didn’t want it to happen. But we were in love-so in love with each other. It was beautiful—terribly beautiful. A woman never forgets the first time, I read somewhere. It’s true.
Why didn’t you two ever get married later?
We were too young and inexperienced, I guess. Oh, we often talked about it, but we discovered we were really after different things in life. So we just drifted apart, just like that.
Modern Man 1962 Yearbook Of Queens
Was this about the time you started to model?
Oh, no. That was much later. After Frankie and I finally broke up, I met a fabulous man one evening at the Los Angeles sports stadium. His name was Jack Newman, a dynamic, good looking, wealthy businessman. Anyway, to make a long story short, Jack just swept me off my feet. Before I knew it, we were married. He was much older than I was. At the time, I was just sixteen. About three months, the marriage was finally annulled. It never had a chance from the beginning. But no one could convince me of that at the time. So, from there, I got a job as a legal secretary, then finally some modeling work around town. That’s when I did my first nude modeling job. It was for Alberto Vargas, the famous artist. He was doing semi-nude pinup painting for Esquire magazine.
How did this all come about?
Vargas heard about me and saw some pinup photos of me in a few magazines. So he phoned me and asked if I would like to pose for him—in the nude, of course. I was thrilled because I felt it might lead to film work. My mother, of course, was not so excited. But she agreed to let me pose if she was right there, in the same room. Vargas didn’t care and naturally, it was O.K. by me. So I did it. He painted me in one afternoon sitting and I got $250.00 for the whole thing.
Were you hesitant about posing nude?
No, not really. I’ve never been ashamed of my body. It wasn’t done for any sexual thrill, remember. It was art. It was also good experience for me.
Did the painting ever appear in Esquire?
Oh, yes. I think it was the July, 1951, issue if I remember.
Do you still have a copy?
Gosh—I doubt it. I’ve moved so much since then, it was probably lost long ago. I’d like to see it again, though.
Wasn’t this about the same time you met Jack Dempsey?
That was in New York when I got my first Broadway showgirl part in “Billion Dollar Baby.” Jackie Gleason starred in it. Many of the girls in the show would go to Dempsey’s restaurant for a late night snack. One evening, after the show, I tagged along and Jack came over to our table, chatting and wisecracking with all the girls. I met him then. At that time, I didn’t know who he was. I thought he just owned the restaurant.
You didn’t know he was the famous ex-heavyweight champion of the world?
It just didn’t occur to me, I guess. Anyway. I’ve never been impressed with titles. If a man is interesting and if there’s a special chemical thing going—then that’s it. Not titles or reputation or anything else matters, does it?
What were your first impressions of Dempsey?
If you want to know the truth, I thought he was crude. Later, when I got to know him better, I changed my mind about this. Jack was a man you had to know before you could make any positive judgements about. Many men are like this, you know.
What about the other men in your life, Mamie? Could you give me some brief comments about them?
I’ll try.
How about Bo Belinsky?
Touche!
Just say whatever you want.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for baseball players. How’s that?
Fine. Any comments about Las Vegas tycoon, Howard Hughes?
The first time I met Howard for lunch, he asked me, “Are you a virgin?”
What was your answer?
I told him, “You’ll never know.” It was a bitchy reply, but he sort of took me by surprise.
“Am I… a… .a… what?”
When Kane asked in a casual tone, “Do you have any black stockings?” I was surprised. “The kind with the seam up the back?” he went on, his voice becoming just perceptibly thicker.
“I don’t wear them, Mr. Kane.”
“Walter. Well, we need to get you some stockings.” He got up from the chair and opened the door to his office. “Come on.” I realized it was the only way I was going to see Howard Hughes. Reluctantly I got up.
(…) “Are you sure Howard Hughes is going to be there?”
“You can count on it’ Joan [Joan Olander aka Mamie Van Doren]. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Okay, Mr. Meyers. Eleven-thirty.”
“Oh, Joan one more thing. Make sure you wear a white sweater… with no bra.”
(…) I showed up at Paul Hessy’s studio dressed as requested. Johnny Meyers greeted me and took me into another room, where I saw Walter Kane and a tall, disheveled man who looked as though he hadn’t shaved in several days: Howard Hughes.
(…) “Well, Joan,” Hughes said, “I’m glad you could come to lunch.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes,” I said. “I’m glad we finally get to meet.”
He smiled from behind his scraggly growth of beard. He looked at Johnny Meyers and then back to me. Meyers got up and left the table. When he was gone, Hughes asked me, “Are you a virgin, Joan?”
My jaw dropped in surprise. “Am I… a… .a… what?”
“You know. A virgin?”
“You mean have I ever… ever been to bed with anyone?”
“Yes.”
“That’s something you’ll never know, Howard,” I said, brashly using his first name.
He blinked at me dumbly for a moment. A wave of annoyance passed across his face, soon to be replaced by a look of genuine amusement. He grinned broadly at me.
“Only time will tell.”
Mamie Van Doren, Playing the Field : My Story. G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York 1987, pp. 31-33.
It all started in Palm Springs
My career really began in Palm Springs, and, like so many good things that happened to me, almost by accident. My mother and I were staying at the Montecito Hotel one spring and the owner of the hotel took a shine to me. He offered to sponsor me as a contestant in the Miss Palm Springs beauty contest. I was fifteen at the time and scared. I did my best to NOT enter the contest, but my mother finally convinced me.
The night of the contest, the popular Chi-Chi nightclub was packed. My knees knocking with fear, I paraded around the stage with several other girls in bathing suits to the cheers and applause of the patrons. The next thing I knew they were putting a crown on my head and I was Miss Palm Springs!
As luck would have it, the owner of RKO Studios, the eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes, was in the audience. A few days after the beauty contest, I received a call from RKO’s casting director asking me to meet Hughes and discuss a contract at RKO. It was the beginning of my movie career and the beginning of my offbeat relationship with one of the world’s richest men. mamievandoreninsideout.wordpress.com
Miss Palm Springs
Miss Palm Springs Named Queen of Press Club Ball
RRRR… RR… RRRR…
International Playmen, September 1968
For example I just don’t accept i study them. I freely admit I have long and exciting experiences with the fellows. And I come to these conclusions:
There is no way of keeping an errant husband faithful. A woman who doesn’t recognize that no matter how much love she gives a man, he will admire another woman, is impractical and unrealistic. I don’t want to go into dull statistics but they show you can count the faithful husbands on a few hands and I say, “What’s the di’fference!”
I have been married once and have a cute son and I will be married again.
I believe — and I live by — that a man should be allowed at least one evening a week out to do what he pleases NO MATTER WHAT HE PLEASES.
What harm do his escapades do your marriage if you don’t make an issue of it?
Let hubby roam a little.
He’II be happy to return to… pasture.
And that leads us to another facet of marriage. I have so many married male friends who say things like, “I can guarantee you my wife has never looked at another man in all the years we have been married.”
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
What do I think of men?
I love ’em.
lt would be a dull world without them. But I have come to sorne conclusions after years of dating. For instance, I think athletes are usually too aggressive. Musicians. They edge their way lnto your affections and then stay there. I find businessmen usually think about sex and that’s all. They are practical — too practical — and they think ROMANCING a girl is a waste of time.
As for the men in my own profession, the entertainment world, they are great to have — as friends — and that’s about it.
There’s another aspect of love and romance that I find interesting.
For years I have been told that certain foods were aphrodisiacs and revved up the urges. Then I have seen articles in magazines and newspapers saying this was only psychological. Well, whether physical or psychological there are foods that make me rrrrrrr… rrrrrr… rrrrr …!
When I was in Austrialia I loved the oysters there — and what those mollusks did to me!
Wow!
I’ll bet the beach boys are glad I left town.
I also eat a lot of protein foods like eggs and nuts and wheat germ too. And to those disbelievers: What if it is psychological, if it does the job that’s all we ask! Right?
And I want you to know I take men and dating so seriously I have two separate wardrobes. One for the younger men and one for the older. They make me and them more comfortable. For older men: Parisian clothes of the latest fashions. And for younger men: sweaters, boots, and tight, tight pants!
Rrrr… rrr… rrr… rrr… RRR !
The question always comes up as to whether Hollywood is any more sexy than the rest of the country.
We, in Hollywood play it cozy and say that whether you come from Oshkosh, Tuscaloosa or Hollywood people are the same. And we quote statistics to prove it.
Well, ha!
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
That’s the biggest laugh since Joe Miller’s joke book.
If you know where to look, Hollywood is the sexiest town in the world (and even Dr. Kinsey hinted at it in his sex encyclopaedia)!
I’m no psychologist, but the reasons seem apparent. In a community where nudity is practiced BEFORE cameras for the whole world to enjoy, and where immorality is dramatized in the interests of entertainment, there is simply bound to be excesses and wild sex play.
Not that I see anything wrong in it. Not at all.
I have always been in favor of unconventionality. I never believed sex was dirty. I am for a more honest sex life.
I’ll never forget the day producer Tommy Noonan took me to lunch and said, “Mamie, I want you to take a beer bath for our picture.” That didn’t seem too bad.
“Sure,” I smiled. “What do I wear?“
“Nothing”, answered Tommy. “Absolutely nothing.”
Wow!
I pictured myself before the cameras for the whole world to see and me in nothing but suds. But then it intrigued me. “Okay,” I answered. So you see I practice what I preach.
Three Nuts in Search of a Bolt (1964)
I have another movie called Three Nuts in Search of a Bolt. I thought “God, what a crazy title.” I read the script and Noonan made some changes for me.”
The plot: Low on funds, a trio of whacky characters share lodgings in a Hollywood house. Desperately in need of psychiatric advice, they turn to Tommy Noonan who schemes to consult a doctor and act out not only his psychological impairment but the traumas of his roommates; hence, therapy is furnished to all three boarders for only one third the price.
The subplot: None. Come to think to it, there’s not much of a plot, either.
In addition to performing a torrid striptease. Van Doren —as man-loathing peeler Saxie Symbol— was required to wade in the raw for a bath scene; the actress declined the latter, describing it as gratuitous. But upon wrapping the film, Noonan “begged” Van Doren to shoot the “beer bath” scene; it was critical to “selling” the movie. “That was like a month after we shot the movie,” says Van Doren. “He came to me and said that Playboy wanted to do a layout and put me on the cover.”
Since she owned a percentage of the film, and was certain to financially profit from a p.r. blitz, Van Doren acquiesced to the post-production nudity. “Of course Playboy helped the movie,” she concedes. “We shot it in a house up in the Hollywood Hills. The bath looked like a stone brook, Instead of using beer, we used shaving foam. They squirted all these cans of foam in the bath to make it stand up and look like beer foam. It had menthol in it and I was in there for quite a length of time. Oh my God, that menthol really killed me.”
A six-page layout was printed in the June, ’64 issue of Playboy. Readers demand- ed an encore, and Van Doren obligingly resurfaced in the magazine. “I did a lot of nude pictures after I did Playboy” she confirms. “I did quite a few of them. I really thought I was blessed. I thought, “Well here is my body and I don’t know what it’s going to look like ten years, thirty years from now if I’m still hanging around. I’m going to take pictures and be able to look at them when I get older, and see how I stack up to the ones then.” As a matter of fact, I have nude pictures on my staircase that I had taken in the ’60s and I look at them and say, “Hmmm. Not bad.’ I can stack up to them very easily.”
“As a matter of fact, I have nude pictures on my staircase that I had taken in the ’60s and I look at them and say, “Hmmm. Not bad.’ I can stack up to them very easily.”
There was some criticism of my nude scene but the men I know enjoyed it!
So what about sex in Hollywood?
Have I seen nude swimming parties?
Yes I have.
Have I seen these sex extravaganzas in other cities? Yes, I have -yet there is a flavor to Hollywood sex that seems to add a joy to it. It’s DIFFERENT.
Actually I was introduced to sex in California in an odd way. I was on a train with my mother and it was very warm.
She opened the two top buttons of her silk blouse revealing a bulge of bosom.
I was dozing beside her when I felt a man leaning on me. I woke up with a start. He was some kind of sex nut.
He was breathing hard and had his face about two inches from my mother’s breast!
I grabbed my mother’s leg and she woke up with a start. “Well, sir, what is it you want?” she asked, in full control of the situation. He was embarrassed and said he was only looking out the window. My mother turned to me and appeared to be angry with ME. “Let that be a lesson to you, “she muttered.” Don’t ever leave your blouse unbuttoned. Even when you wear a bra.”
Everyone still thinks I’ve only done “B” pictures, but all the Universals were “A”s!
Tell me about the studio system at Universal and the talent school they sponsored for the contract players.
That’s where we all started; it laid the groundwork for our acting technique. Good or bad, the system has changed. It’s sad that there’s no Louis B. Mayer or Jack Warner or Harry Cohn anymore. These men made “stars.” But as they cultivated these stars they put you in little cubicles: a dumb blonde or a gun moll. The nice girls piayed wives…I played bad girls. They knew where they wanted to put you and you didn’t fight it, because if you did you were put under suspension. They didn’t know how to handle me. They’d had Marlene Dietrich 20 years before, and I learned a lot from her. I really absorbed everything I could while under contract, because once you got into the studio you really had to go to work. You could either go out with the guys and show up the next day with bags under your eyes or you could toe the line. I toed the line; I didn’t even date unless I had to. I studied all the time—acting, diction, my high school and college lessons. They furnished everything for me and I was very grateful for the help. We were all under contract, trying to make it and hoping we would be picked up for the next year. What was frustrating was that Marilyn [Monroe] had scripts bought for her, but they didn’t buy a movie for me; they put me into whatever they had. I probably did seven movies in a year, going from one to the next. And I did some very big movies. Everyone still thinks I’ve only done “B” pictures, but all the Universals were “A”s! (“Put the Blame on Mamie” by Karen Moline, Interview 1987-10: Vol 17 Iss 10.
Bad Girl
That was my introduction to sex in California.
It wasn’t long after in Holliywood when a man called me to a car he was sitting in.
He was exposed.
In a mixture of emotions headed by fright—and curiosity—I hesitated and then ran.
This is a strange town in which I once heard a girl boast that she was a virgin.
She was 15 years old.
It seems all her friends of that age weren’t virgins. I had the feeling her state of virginity wouldn’t last long.
Do you have to end up on a casting couch in order to become a picture star? I hear that question so often. I can only answer for myself. I don’t know what other girls do. I suppose there are actresses who have gotten studio contracts as a result of their well-plotted bed manners. But I also know there are many girls who rely on talent and looks to get somewhere.
My first studio contract was with Universal Studios and the day I signed it was one of the happiest days of my life (even though it was for ·only $200 a week). Frankly, that $200 made me a lot happier than a $10,000 a week salary I made in Las Vegas only a couple of years later.
In those days I was eternally curious and it wasn’t enough to know that I was signed by a major studio. I wanted to know why. I probed and probed.
“Because our studio thinks you are the answer to Marilyn Monroe over at 20th-Fox,” said one executive. The thought of me being competition for the world’s greatest sex symbol made me a little dizzy. Wow!
But another executive probably got nearer to the practical truth. “You are a highly publicized sex symbol. Our studio likes to build up a girl like you. We specialize in T. and S. pictures.” (The S. stands for Sand — the T. you’ll have to find out for yourself.)
Since those days so many girls have asked me how to become a movie star.
I can only say: be born stacked and pretty. I know of no other advice.
Even studio executives aren’t sure how a girl becomes a movie star. With me they liked my looks and they liked my potential and they liked my publicity-gathering ability but they didn’t like one thing — they didn ‘t like my name. My name then was Joan Olander.
From that moment on Joan Olander was tossed in the ash can and Mamie Van Doren was born.
How did the name come into being? Well someone liked the name of President Dwight Eisenhower’s wife and someone else liked the name of Charles Van Doren, the famous educator, who later was involved in the college TV affaire.
The Forbidden Book of Beauty 