To appreciate this story, you must recall the powerful newspaper publisher, William Randolph Hearst and screen star Marion Davies, his longtime mistress....
From Time Magazine, Monday, Nov. 12, 1951
Back in the mid-'30s a husky, big-nosed, pale-eyed Virginian named Horace Gates Brown moved his wife and three sons to California. It was, as they often say in Hollywood, Fate. This was not immediately apparent, however, for, as they also often say in Hollywood, the mills of the gods grind slowly.
Brown worked as a movie stunt man. His wife died in an automobile accident. In 1940 he joined the California State Guard and, fatefully enough, was attached to a unit which had its headquarters at Marion Davies' children's clinic. But he married Baritone Lawrence Tibbett's exwife, Grace. He attended a maritime officers' school, went to sea, and ended up as a skipper of Navy tankers. During one of his long voyages, the ex-Mrs. Tibbett divorced him. On subsequent homecomings his slight acquaintanceship with Miss Davies finally blossomed into real friendship. She introduced him to her good friend, Mr. Hearst, and took to calling him Uncle Horace.
Uncle Horace was in Japan commanding a tanker when Mr. Hearst died. When he got back to Los Angeles in mid-September, he hurried to Marion's side and she asked him to move into her guest house. He did. Late one night last week, Uncle Horace and Marion decided to get married. They flew to Las Vegas, arriving at 3 in the morning, roused out a justice of the peace, and did so. At one point Marion, who knew the words, raced ahead of the justice and said, "Love, honor and obey . . ." Said the justice: "In Nevada you say cherish . . ." Marion agreed, being in Nevada and all.
Marion was wearing dark blue slacks, a white blouse and dark glasses. "I figured if I was going to marry a sailor I might as well dress like one," she explained. The newlyweds had a wedding breakfast of vodka, champagne, turkey sandwiches and other goodies, and got questioned and photographed by the press (see NEWS IN PICTURES).
The happy couple got into a light plane and flew to Palm Springs. It was rough. Marion rested in a bungalow at the Racquet Club after the plane landed. Said Uncle Horace: "My little girl scuttled the bomb explosion. They [the photographers] were there for the bomb, but when they heard about her they said, 'The hell with the bomb!' " Of his earlier friendship with Marion, he said: "I never would have married Marion—then. I thought too much of the old man to have such thoughts."
That night people dropped in, drinks were passed, and a waiter brought a wedding cake. A noisy party grew. Marion did not feel well and went to bed early. But two days later, back in her own house in Beverly Hills, she said, reflectively: "It will be all right. W.R. liked him very much. Yes, it will be all right.
And was it? Although they appear happy in this photo, it's written the marriage wasn't. She filed for divorce twice but never followed through. They remained married until her death in 1961.
From Time Magazine, Monday, Nov. 12, 1951
Back in the mid-'30s a husky, big-nosed, pale-eyed Virginian named Horace Gates Brown moved his wife and three sons to California. It was, as they often say in Hollywood, Fate. This was not immediately apparent, however, for, as they also often say in Hollywood, the mills of the gods grind slowly.
Brown worked as a movie stunt man. His wife died in an automobile accident. In 1940 he joined the California State Guard and, fatefully enough, was attached to a unit which had its headquarters at Marion Davies' children's clinic. But he married Baritone Lawrence Tibbett's exwife, Grace. He attended a maritime officers' school, went to sea, and ended up as a skipper of Navy tankers. During one of his long voyages, the ex-Mrs. Tibbett divorced him. On subsequent homecomings his slight acquaintanceship with Miss Davies finally blossomed into real friendship. She introduced him to her good friend, Mr. Hearst, and took to calling him Uncle Horace.
Uncle Horace was in Japan commanding a tanker when Mr. Hearst died. When he got back to Los Angeles in mid-September, he hurried to Marion's side and she asked him to move into her guest house. He did. Late one night last week, Uncle Horace and Marion decided to get married. They flew to Las Vegas, arriving at 3 in the morning, roused out a justice of the peace, and did so. At one point Marion, who knew the words, raced ahead of the justice and said, "Love, honor and obey . . ." Said the justice: "In Nevada you say cherish . . ." Marion agreed, being in Nevada and all.
Marion was wearing dark blue slacks, a white blouse and dark glasses. "I figured if I was going to marry a sailor I might as well dress like one," she explained. The newlyweds had a wedding breakfast of vodka, champagne, turkey sandwiches and other goodies, and got questioned and photographed by the press (see NEWS IN PICTURES).
The happy couple got into a light plane and flew to Palm Springs. It was rough. Marion rested in a bungalow at the Racquet Club after the plane landed. Said Uncle Horace: "My little girl scuttled the bomb explosion. They [the photographers] were there for the bomb, but when they heard about her they said, 'The hell with the bomb!' " Of his earlier friendship with Marion, he said: "I never would have married Marion—then. I thought too much of the old man to have such thoughts."
That night people dropped in, drinks were passed, and a waiter brought a wedding cake. A noisy party grew. Marion did not feel well and went to bed early. But two days later, back in her own house in Beverly Hills, she said, reflectively: "It will be all right. W.R. liked him very much. Yes, it will be all right.
And was it? Although they appear happy in this photo, it's written the marriage wasn't. She filed for divorce twice but never followed through. They remained married until her death in 1961.
