Friday, October 10, 2025

Chapter 3 Bless My Rudder: Part 4 The First Assault

 The World Is Upside Down 1939

"I'm not in acting to make money. I reap the benefits from it, but I do it because I love it!"

Agnes Moorehead

Molly, New York, and New Orleans

In January 1939, Mother became a resident of New York City. She moved in with us after Father’s passing and her extended hotel stay in Columbus. Peg and I had a massive blowout, and she moved out just in time for Mother to move in. Mother certainly hit the ground running, spending two weeks with Grace in New Orleans, returning to Reedsburg on January 28. Mama did the same thing she had done when Peggy died; she threw herself into experiences. But the reaper wasn’t done with either of us yet. Ten months after Papa’s death, we lost Aunt Cam to the same thing: a heart attack. Camilla Urso Moorehead was buried on March 16, 1939. When my beloved aunt passed away, I was doing “Dr. Rockwell’s Braintrust” on the radio. I went to Ohio to attend the funeral and was back in New York by March 21 for another Dr. Rockwell show. I handled my grief just like my father; I threw myself into my work.


“Cavalcade of America.”

It paid off when I was rated as a top radio actress in April. I thrived on “Cavalcade of America” and continued with “Dr. Rockwell’s Braintrust. I added “Brenda Curtis” and “The Aldrich Family.” I returned to her comedic roots with Phil Baker in January and worked with him until October 4. It was in 1939 that I became extremely well-known for my ability to impersonate anyone. On "Cavalcade and “The March of Time,” I voiced Eleanor Roosevelt, who, by the way, wholeheartedly approved of my imitation of her, Queen Elizabeth, Katherine Hepburn, The Duchess of Windsor, Marie Dressler, Greta Garbo, Dorothy Thompson, Frau Goering, and many others. I was so precise in copying people that nobody could tell the difference. I finally gave an enormous voice to Marie Dressler, considered one of the best performers ever. Producers said my skill was uncanny. During my time on the radio, I voiced over 1000 feminine roles. In a short article in the April 21 Ventura Weekly Post and Democrat, I was praised for this ability, but mistakenly added Eugene O’Neill to the family tree. Mother always said I rearranged facts, as most people rearranged their furniture for comfort or if I felt it would enhance my prestige. I even said Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was my cousin. I always believed that the entertainment business required you to connect with everyone and everything so that listeners could relate to you without having to think about it.


July 6, 1939

A Divorce & A World’s Fair 

I don’t remember what started it, but it had to do with Jack coming home drunk. I said the wrong thing, and he landed on me like a ton of drunken bricks. I was punched, kicked, slapped, screamed at, and my life was threatened. When he got around to threatening to kill me, one of our neighbors had come and started pounding on the door. We were all in the business in this building, so they knew not to involve the police. When Jack opened the door, my neighbor saw me sprawling on the floor in the living room. He pushed past Jack, who lost his balance and fell. My neighbor scooped me off the floor, took me out the door, and jumped on an elevator. He took me out the back way with the doorman's help, and we got into a taxi and then said, “Hospital, please!”


I was in the hospital for at least ten days. I decided that I also needed my husband surgically removed from my life. My friends were horrified. I was terrified. Jack was remanded to a hotel once I got home. Oh, he tried to see me, but the staff had strict orders not to let him into the hospital room or my apartment when I got home. I was black, blue, broken, stitched, and eternally grateful for morphine. When I got home, I was relieved to find Jack had removed his things, and I had the locks changed to ensure he couldn't get to me. I could return to work officially in September, but I managed to do a few things as I healed physically and emotionally.


July 24, 1939

Monday

The Dayton Herald

Actress Agnes Moorehead, who went to the hospital last week, is well again and has resumed work on her network serials.


Oddly, once I got home, I discovered that only one paper had reported that I was hospitalized, and it was in Dayton; go figure. Mother was on vacation, so I know she didn’t call the paper, and you know, to this day, I still don’t know who let that cat out of the bag. The answer was in the form of a tiny white card placed in flowers sent to me. It said this: 


July 6, 1939

A divorce & a World’s Fair are pretty wearing, Aggie dear! We’re all terribly shocked and want you to get well quickly. 

The T.D.I.O Cast & Company


Why did I keep putting myself in that situation? I did it in 1939 and again in 1945, but I failed to follow through on the divorce. There is one common denominator in both those circumstances: my mother. Mother talked me out of divorcing Jack both times I turned to her. It wasn’t Mother’s fault she was raised in a chaotic environment punctuated with overzealous Catholicism and drenched in Presbyterianism. Mother was afraid of how it would look and told me so both times. Then, I made two emotional U-turns and returned to Jack. Mother had steered my life for years. She was a master at manipulating me into doing what Mother thought was best. She honestly tried to do the right thing according to scripture as she understood it. I was just trying not to let Jack beat me to death with his fists!


A carrot called “Citizen Kane.”

 In November, an article appeared in the papers regarding Orson and his upcoming journey to Hollywood, where he would make a little film called “Citizen Kane.” I was mentioned in the article, as were the other members of “The Mercury Theatre.” Orson was about to hand me the keys to Hollywood with the role of Charles Foster Kane’s mother. I was on the screen for four minutes, and Hollywood got its first look at me. Jack didn't accompany me to Hollywood because he had just beaten the dickens out of me, but by this point, we had a gorgeous apartment at 37 West 53rd Street and a home in Long Island. Jack was doing whatever he did, but he wasn’t footing the bills for any of it. I was relieved to not be doing it with him.


Molly and Jack Home Alone

Mother traveled with Grace in July 1939, but still lived in New York with Jack and me. The tension in the house was off the charts when I went to California to film  “Citizen Kane.” Mother knew full well that I was the breadwinner, not Jack, and given Mama's propensity for bluntness, I have no doubt she reminded him daily. That July, Mother went to Reedsburg and then to Chicago with Grace, where they enjoyed a two-week cruise on the Great Lakes. That December, Mother spent her holiday season with Grace, and together, they attended a Christmas party in Baraboo, Wisconsin



Salt in the Wound Christmas with the Lees

While Mother spent her holiday with Grace, they attended a Christmas party together in Baraboo, Wisconsin. While managing to stay drunk most of the time, Jack did whatever it was that Jack did. I founded a bountiful Christmas I went all out with a tree and holly and mistletoe, pouring salt into our marriage's open wound. I just dealt with it, knowing that Hollywood would break my fall when the marriage finally exploded. I have always said an unbalanced marriage is not good because someone is constantly unhappy. I was learning the reality of every day I had to spend with Jack. 


Author's Observation: No Solid Reason

Agnes asserted at the proceedings that Jack, drunk at the time, held a gun to her head and forced his way into her bed. He held the gun to her head, she resisted, and he made her sleep in the same bed with him while holding the gun. She did not say he raped her, but I think it can be assumed that he forced himself on her sexually. Her life was a nightmare, a waking nightmare that she had no control over. I believe that is why it took her four years and an affair with a younger man she thought she could safely manage to file for divorce. It couldn’t have been easy because she had to know that her whole life would be laid out before a judge. Her legal team managed to control the media to an extent. She did receive some bad press at the hands of Lee’s legal eagles, but nothing that rolled right back on him.


The book by Charles Tranberg states that Lee was a nice guy who got way over his head when he married Agnes and took to drinking because he was emasculated. I also recall that it was stated that Lee told Agnes point-blank that she was nothing but a meal ticket for him. Yeah, nice guy. Jack Lee used Agnes as much, if not more, than Robert Gist ever thought about using her. She supported him for twenty years. The amount he worked would barely have kept him off welfare if he had attempted to survive independently. I don’t know what happened to him, and I’m inclined not to give a dam. However, my idea of telling the whole story keeps me searching for him to determine his outcome. 















Chapter 3 Bless My Rudder Part 3

  Nobodies Lambchop 1937

“I'm a woman of strong convictions.”

Agnes Moorehead

Jack Says

1937 came screaming into New York with New Year's parties and the exuberant joy in Times Square. This year would bring changes that would rock my world. My career was on fire, but my marriage wasn’t. On January 10th, a small article appeared in the newspapers. It’s an odd little thing, but it says a lot in just a few sentences. It says that my New Year’s resolution was not to wear green anymore because my husband doesn’t like it. If nothing else, it gave Jack the illusion of control of his home.


I had to be bent to the will of a has-been that never was and let it be published in a newspaper.  I am considered feisty. I was an absolute scrapper when it came to my career, but a pushover when it came to my marriage. I  hated the inference, but I managed to endure it. Jack had been drinking since 1933. But the year is now 1937, and Jack made a resolution on New Year's Eve: drink until you can’t see. He was exceptional at fulfilling his New Year's resolution. He drank, and then he drank some more. When he was good and drunk, he’d pick a fight with me, then pass out just to wake up and do it all over again. I do not know what kept me walking away from my marriage right then and there!



Author's Observation: Everything Is Fine, I'm Fine, It's All Fine

The Childlike Man

When you can look at and read what remains of the correspondence between Jack and Agnes, you’re struck by several things. The first notable thing is that Jack, while he claimed to have a college degree that I have yet to find, was a childlike communicator. What existed in the 1930s was a series of cards and one full-on letter. I call it the Skowhegan letter. He wrote it while doing summer theater in Skowhegan, Maine. I find the letter odd because its tone is like a child explaining to his mother why he’s not hanging around with the troublemaker just as she warned him not to, and it’s punctuated with downright possessive phrases. I’m paraphrasing here, but it boils down to you belonging to me, and you should be here with me. Why?


The series of Christmas and Birthday cards is equally odd. The envelope of one names her as his “Angel lovin' lamb chop.” The interior of the same card is a wee bit racier: “Spanky Angel.”

Are you kidding me? “Spanky Angel!” Pet names are acceptable, but that particular one left me stunned. Far be it from me to be judgmental about the sex lives of married couples, but in my experience, nicknames like that just do not belong on Christmas cards. They’re too personal. Then you have to stop and think that she saved it, not him, so again, why?



Fifth Gear and Overdrive

In the meantime, my career was going into overdrive. I started the year with a new show in which I was the lead. It was called “Joyce Jordan Girl Intern.” It is about a young woman who has chosen to become a doctor. In 1937, this was radical thinking. Sure, female doctors existed in 1937, but they were few and far between. Here was a show telling women they could be whatever they wanted. Don’t fear your future; embrace it and make it yours. I was hammering at the glass ceiling that held women back and putting cracks in it that, in the future, would become shards of the ceiling shattered by women. 


Breaking Molds With Orson

Along with “Joyce Jordan,” I was also in Terry and the Pirates and another serial featuring a relatively new face in radio, Orson Welles. Then I landed the role of Margot Lane in The Shadow." I stepped up to the microphone beside Orson. We had an uncanny ability to play off each other. Our on-air chemistry was undeniable and palpable. As we boarded the ship of radio history, neither of us knew how much this partnership would elevate us both. I enjoyed working with Orson. I had a tiny crush on him, and he knew it. He used it to reveal Margot Lane’s soft, sensual side. This was Orson directing me without me even realizing he was doing it. He had an uncanny ability to bring out the best acting qualities in me. He understood me in a way that she didn’t even understand. This began a long association that would change my life forever.



Jack, Skowhegan, and the letter

Jack finally returned to the stage in 1937 at Skowhegan in a series of Summer Theater productions.  Despite his difficulties with everything he tried, Jack finally found his footing in 1937, too, or so it seemed. Jack went to Skowhegan, Maine, to do summer theater in July. He worked in a show called “Boy Meets Girl,” and his reviews were decent; however, the role was described like this, “ Jack Lee, another new member of the Lakewood Players, will play the dumb cowboy “Larry Toms.” So great review, crappy part or maybe a wee bit of typecasting. Jack it seems he was “specially engaged” to play the dumb cowboy. He found his footing by playing dumb and appeared exceptionally good at it. Unfortunately, Jack ends up with the short end of the stick regarding his career. It did him some good, though, because, in November of 1937, he garnered a part in “Too Many Heroes” at the Hudson Theatre.


Nevertheless, Skowhegan made it to the scrapbook. I was very happy for him and scared to death at the same time. He was likely to come home, be extraordinarily happy for twenty-four hours, then open the liquor cabinet and drink. When I came home, I was just as likely to get punched as I was to get a hello.


This is what the review I clipped says about Jack:

“Jack Lee, a newcomer to Lakewood, quickly won the audience's hearts with his work in the part that had been assigned to him. As a somewhat temperamental star who was forced to do just about what his agent told him, he produced some of the best laughs of the evening. He hopes to be with the company for future productions.” July 22nd, 1937,  in the Morning Sentinel in Waterville, Maine.


Meanwhile, Jack's Father, Marsh, was in the newspapers further south in Manteo, North Carolina. He played the historian in the production of the Lost Colony. I clipped the article that goes on to talk about Marsh’s career. It covers where he has been, including Europe, and details his life in the entertainment industry, as well as his family members who participate in the same sector:


“Mr. Lee is not the only talented actor in the family. His daughter-in-law  Agnes Moorehead is a very talented actress ... .Jack G. Lee, another relation, plays a leading part in Warden Lawe’s program on the air.” 


I don't have to talk about the slap in the face this was to Jack, but I didn't count on it also being a slap in the face to me. Jack began drinking heavily; I can forgive him for it this time. Who puts their daughter-in-law in a position of more importance than their flesh and blood? I’ll tell you who: somebody who has no apparent interest in his son, that’s who. Jack was crushed, wouldn’t you be? It was as if Marsh was mocking Jack by mentioning me before him. I would be paying the price for it, not Marsh. I had to live with the man. Marsh Lee could go merrily on his way without listening to the grumbling.


Unfortunately, Jack ended up with the short end of the stick regarding his career. It did him some good, though, because, in November of 1937, he garnered a part in “Too Many Heroes” at the Hudson Theatre, which was exposure and a paycheck, as Agnes told him. He was not amused. By the way, he never played football; he just thought it made him sound, well, butch! Life was becoming a ballet of chaos at our place. I have danced ballet, but this was something new.


The New York American

April 14, 1937

Dinty Doyle

Few know that John ( Jack ) Lee, the competent actor, was an All-American Halfback who never got the rating because he was at the University of California in the heyday of Andy Smith’s Wonderteam.


Marrying, Burying, and Music.

The year proceeded in Columbus almost precisely as Mother and Father intended. Mother went to Reedsburg to visit with Grace for a while. Papa stayed in Columbus, insisting his flock desperately needed him. Mother was a creature of habit and would have none of canceling any trips to Reedsburg or anywhere else. Father did wedding after wedding, followed by funeral after funeral, and brought up the rear with many babies who needed baptizing. In other words, both my parents were more than satisfied with how they lived. This is the year I threw in the towel, deciding my parent were adults and would be happy if I butted out of their business and let them exist the way they wanted to.


 In a turn of events I did not see coming, her Aunt Cam stepped into the spotlight. She had agreed to play the piano at a ministerial meeting in New Concord, and the next thing you knew, she had signed up to accompany the “New Concord Quartet” on KDKA in the metropolis of Pittsburgh. I was beside myself with joy. Aunt Cam played beautifully, and hearing her on the radio gave me a sense of massive pride.


Let Go And Forgive 1938

“Ohio pastor dies as choir sings Safe In The Arms of Jesus.”

Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph

May 23, 1938

Safe In The Arms Of Jesus

Just as 1927 and 1929 were filled with grief and loss, 1938-1939 would be the same. My Father loved his many churches so much. He dedicated his life to being the shepherd of many different flocks. He preached the word of God with a fervor driven by complete compassion for every living thing, and he believed with his whole heart that he would meet his maker with pride when his time came. That time arrived on May 22nd, 1938. mother and the choir sang “Safe In The Arms Of Jesus.” The church members sang along. Papa was sitting in his chair next to his pulpit. When Mama looked down at him, she saw his color wasn’t right, and no sooner had she thought it than Papa closed his eyes and grabbed his chest, falling forward out of the chair. He died in front of his entire congregation.  Mother was the first one to his side, second only to the doctor seated in the congregation.  The doctor indicated to Mother that Papa was dead, and she, in her somewhat stoic fashion, said she was happy that he had gone home to be with Jesus.  As Agnes wept for her Father, she reassured herself that he had died in the place he felt most at home in the world, the House of God. The time of his passing was 11:00 a.m.


From New York without Jack.

I made my way to Columbus without Jack. His drinking had become such that I feared having him anywhere near Mother. He would surely open his mouth, and Mother would verbally tear him apart. My mother didn’t need that to deal with this on top of everything else.


In my eyes, Papa had been reunited with her sister Pegg less than nine years after her death.  Less than a year later,  Aunt Cam died of the very same thing—another unexpected phone call or telegram and another unscheduled trip to bury a beloved family member.  I lost every member of her immediate family except for my mother, Grandma McCauley, my Aunt Agnes, and my Uncles Mark and Alfred. They and I were the last of the family now. You don’t realize how much you miss them all until they’ve left to go home to God.


Orson and Dracula

Despite the losses I experienced in 1938, my career was still making waves.

I had great success on her hands with “The Shadow.” I also landed a twenty-six-week series with Lou Holtz. I narrated Beauty and the Beast. I was privileged to join “Cavalcade of America,” a highly respected show that was broadcast all across the country. I was  heard in the serial “Grand Central Station.”  This year, I joined the Mercury Theatre On The Air at the behest of Orson. I also became a regular on The Campbell Playhouse.” Job after job only added to my popularity. I was finally a recognized radio star. People around the country sent questions to the papers about who I was and what I looked like. I performed with the Mercury group in Orson’s adaptation of “Dracula.” Again, Orson coaxed a fantastic performance out of me in her role as Mina Harker. Orson announced I was on fire and burning up the airwaves. Oh my lord, I was so embarrassed. I knew that when Mother heard Dracula, I would be in for a lecture because of my sultry sighing.


Author's Observations: Lion or Cougar

Tommie and Howie

On February 9, 1938, an article in the Chicago newspapers indicated that Tommy Hutchinson and Howie Page were feuding over Agnes. Tommy Hutchinson was a professional boxer. This article is ground zero for her deteriorating marriage with Jack.  It’s the first time in any newspaper that she is mentioned as a love object for not one but two prominent men. This would not happen again for eleven years when she split from Jack and had her little tete-a-tete with Robert Gist. The men are never mentioned together with Agnes’ name again. She was controlling the romantic narrative of my life. She didn’t have a word to say about Tommy and Howie. Agnes was no tattletale!


Jack’s Father dies

Jack had a horrendous year in 1938 as well. Like I did, he lost a parent. His Father died in Long Island on March 27, 1938, in Nassau Hospital from pneumonia. His obituary in the Brooklyn Eagle is touching, naming Jack as his son and Susan as his widow. Marsh and Susan hadn’t lived together since the mid-1910s. The lack of bliss in his parents' marriage contributed to Jack’s unstable relationship with me. On the bright side, if there is one, Jack and I finally squeezed in a honeymoon. Frankly, it was just more of the same, except in Bermuda. Jack drank. I swam, read, and slept. We had been married for eight long, arduous years and just got around to it. Neither of us was desperate enough when we married to go on a honeymoon because we both chose work over romance. I suppose I should have known better. My work was always everything to me, and this pretend "Honeymoon" didn't help at all. If anything, it made it worse.


Molly unleashed

Mother's last trip to Reedsburg was just three months before Papa died. The next time Mother returned to Reedsburg, she did so as a widow. She went to Reedsburg in November with Grandma McCauley. For obvious reasons, Grandma McCauley never spent much time at our home when Papa was alive. It began with Mother, and then he primary fracture occurred in 1930 when Grandma overstayed her welcome after Pegg’s death. But no, my Mother was free to take her mother anywhere she wanted. Since Mother was the beneficiary of Papa’s will, she was well looked after. Immediately after Papa’s passing, Mother spent several months in a lovely hotel in Columbus. I paid for it as my mother transitioned from a minister's wife to an average widow. She was still in a state of shock.


The best and the worst happened in 1938. I pushed through it and came out the other side in 1939. I didn’t know then that 1939 had some serious surprises for me. Some were tremendous, and one was incredibly bad!






Chapter 3 Bless My Rudder Part 2 Cosmic Love

  Cosmic Love 1934

“Do not settle for anything less than cosmic love.” 

Agnes Moorehead 


Hitting The Gas.

I rode a silver wave into 1934!  I knew 1934 would bring more exposure on the radio, which meant more work and money. I was finally starting to see a return on the investment in the Academy. The ride started January 6th when she performed in a unique “Saturday’s Children” adaptation for the Radio Guild. I loved doing it. Variety was marvelous because nothing ever felt stale. Spring that year was sedate for me, but my successes carried into the summer when I played “Countess Maritza” in the radio operetta by the same name. I got called in at the last minute because someone was ill. I was worried because it was such short notice, but it was highly successful. Except for the reignition of the Zasu Pitts comparison. Suddenly, again, I was deemed “The Zasu Pitts of the Airwaves.”


I did not appreciate the comparison, and it wasn’t because I disliked Zasu; quite the opposite; what I didn’t care for was being typed as a Zasu Pitts type of character actress! Like any performer, I wanted to be seen for who I was and recognized as unique, unlike all the others in every way. But in proper form, I took that negative and made it my own. I turned the tables on the radio during a “Mrs.Whiggs and the Cabbage Patch” performance by giving my character, “Mrs. Hazy,” Zasu Pitts' voice. I was so good that people thought Zasu Pitts played the role. I took that nickname and stood it on its head! I also managed to catch the attention of radio producers and directors. I was a natural mimic, just like I was a natural comedian. It shot me right into the spotlight, and I loved it!


Role After Role.

Before I could blink, doors began to open for me. I was picked up as Minn Gump in the radio serial “The Gumps” in November. A performance immediately followed it in “Cyrano de Bergerac.”  From there, I entered the serial “The Girl Next Door” with Barry McKinley. I mimicked everywhere while Barry, the baritone, baritoned everywhere. It was a great success. The chemistry was excellent, and Barry lived next door to us. Oddly enough, though, the studios thought it was a good idea to rarely mention that I was married. If you find an article on me in the papers, you will not find Jack. The radio was marketing me as a single woman. Jack was persona non grata.


In December, I started a new program called “The Rooster Gazette.” It allowed me to get performance time and sharpen my comedic claws. The Gumps also hit the airwaves in December. More shows meant more money, which meant I was free to spend as I saw fit. My climb up the ladder of the best-dressed women on the radio intensified steadily. Jack and I began climbing the social ladder in New York as December flew on. 


Are You Married?

It was 1934 when “The Girl Next Door” aired. Barry McKinley was just becoming well-known, and he was my co-star. Barry and I did live next door to each other, and the networks made great press out of it. However, the one thing that wasn’t mentioned was Jack. He was beginning to get irritated over his being removed from my publicity. I wasn’t saleable as a married woman. That went over like a lead balloon. Jack was angry because I was single as far as everyone listening was concerned. The press never mentioned Jack in relation to me unless he escorted me to an event. It was galling, and this situation simmered underneath everything else. He would get quiet and moody, then stomp off to join his friends at a bar. When that happened, his coming home was not something I particularly enjoyed. I was on the air day after day. Folks all across America were writing in and asking who the woman on “The Gumps,” “The Girl Next Door,” “Sherlock Holmes Mysteries,” “Evening In Paris,” and “Seth Parker.” There was great interest in me among the fans of the shows. They particularly enjoyed my comedy. I mean, can I help it if I'm funny? 


Molly and Grace, John and God

As was typical for Mother, January spent two weeks with Grace. But in March, something unusual happened. Something that hadn’t happened with Mother and Father for five years. They went somewhere together. On March 2nd, they left for Lake Bluff, Illinois. A place the family had traveled to many times before Peggy’s death. It was only sixty miles further to Aurora, Illinois, where they had shipped Peggy off to a mysterious “school.” During their stay, Mother naturally took the time to participate in a recital. Again, she used to do it often but hadn’t done much of it in the last five years.  Things seemed to be easing back into some semblance of normalcy for Mother and Papa.


MC Jacky Whack

Jack was reduced to acting as the MC for the Vivian Claire Revue in Vermont. At least he was attempting to work. Things being what they were, he seemed content enough, letting Agnes be the breadwinner on the outside. Inside, though, his masculinity was being fractured and chipped away by his inability to support her and her ability to help him emotionally. 


Curiously enough, though, on September 15, 1935, Jack managed to end up in an article appearing in the Sunday edition of the Daily News along with mine. At Eastern Services Studios in Astoria, Darryl Zanuck was making motion pictures, and Jack, along with Bottle and Beetle, was involved in the process. I worked with them. A woman named Estelle Jayne was going to be in it. Jack’s portion of the film “Soak the Rich” was done in a reproduction of a theater, complete with a stage!  Jack made it to film with me long before I made it to “Kane” in 1939.


Square Pegs 1935

“Square Peg In A Round Hole, I Am It.” 1935

Agnes Moorehead


I was born to be a schoolteacher.

On June 19, 1935, Agnes Moorehead wrote in a Radio Highlights article: “If there ever was a square peg in a round hole, I am it. I can say unflinchingly that I am radio’s biggest misfit. Everything that happens to me is wrong. In the first place, I was cut out to be a school teacher…” No matter how successful I became, I found a way to display my insecurities and criticize my abilities or looks.  I had spent much of my young life being told I wasn’t pretty or that my talent would lead me down the road to ruin. Truthfully, I was insecure; I had always been. When I was younger, I relied on Peggy to be the pretty girl, and I got to be the funny one. I had always used humor to bolster my insecurity and make it appear as if I was unbothered by it all. It did bother me deeply. It bothered me constantly.


I was finally earning enough money to take the next big public step to shore up my view of myself by dressing to the nines whenever I knew I would be seen. I used my fashion sense and continued to use it throughout my life to make a statement. I had finally stepped out, tamping down the insecure little girl in my head, and I became the woman who wore her personality for everybody to see. 


Showing My Drip

In 1935, there were articles about my elegant dress in the newspaper. Naturally, I cut them out and put them in my scrapbook. Photographs were used in the newspapers to demonstrate her elegance and fashion sense. I had finally accepted that I wanted to be noticed and talked about. Everything about the fashions of the 1930s was practically tailored to me. The dresses were bias cut and draped, fitting me to a T, and I looked stunning. I loved the way women's suits were made in the 30s. They were well structured for my body. With their fluted skirts and ruffled blouses under man-cut jackets, they draped me as if I had been designed to fit the clothes rather than the opposite.


For a girl who grew up in St. Louis, went to college in the middle of nowhere, and taught high school in a place that people who know Wisconsin like the back of their hand couldn’t find, I had what the young people today call DRIP, massive DRIP! The 30s allowed me to become fully committed to wearing fur collars, fur coats, and fur stoles, and I became an outrageous fan of expensive jewelry, be it natural or costume. I could put together things others would look at and think, “My god, I can’t wear that,” and walk out like a runway model during Paris Fashion Week. My dark, auburn-colored hair went with anything it was paired with. There was no color I could not pull off, and I mean no color.  I wore hats, pins, hairpins, and bunches of flowers—both real and artificial—in striking colors that would terrify the average woman. No matter how odd it seemed before I wore it, if it made the paper, then every other woman in America was going to try it. My strongest appeal was not that she could stop traffic with my beauty but that I could do it with my presence. The women of America loved it. I was seen as a young woman with vitality, wit, and intelligence, and my measure of beauty was all-American, just as every woman longed to be. I know it sounds corny, but I was an actress of the people, and the public appreciated it in ways I was just beginning to discover. I was an unintentional feminist with an incredible female following. This made me unique in radio and would continue to make me unique in many fields for many years.


We Have A Roommate?

I began to master the art of controlling my narrative through publicity. In September, an article about Peg appeared in the newspapers. It was an article about Peg’s career, looks, beaus, and roommate, little old me. People have asked why I have a roommate when I have been married for years. Furthermore, where was Jack? 

Yes, Peg was my roommate, but so was Jack. If you’re looking for proof, go no further than my library of scrapbooks! In there, you will find a Christmas card that was sent to Jack, me, and Peg. Peg was a singer and a good one at that. We had great fun together. We saw shows during the summer and vacationed together several times.


I didn’t need a roommate, but it was economical, and I wanted to feel safe in my own home. I loved having Peg around. I didn't like being alone with my husband. He had gotten more and more aggressive. I was fearful of him. Jack flew off the handle at the silliest things. Now and then, he’d get a look in his eyes that sent shivers down my spine. With Peg around, he was uncomfortable getting aggressive with me because there was a witness. Jack had begun drinking a little more than anyone thought he should have. Here’s a copy of the article about Peg and their unique living arrangement from my scrapbook. 


August 4, 1935

The Plain Dealer

Cleveland Ohio

Written by: Peg LaCentra

“ I live with Agnes Moorehead, an NBC actress, and we have a delightful group of friends. We think up the maddest things to do for our amusement–just simple things, like watching people in Grand Central Station. And we get the biggest kick out of it–to me, that is much more fun than burning the candle at nightclubs. 


All of our friends are what we call “right down to earth.” They are doing things and getting places, but don’t take themselves too seriously.


Author's Observations Peg O' My Heart

The Third Wheel

Peg started sharing an apartment with Agnes and Jack in 1934/35. Peg was a tiny woman, weighing only 98 pounds, with blue eyes and golden hair. She was a radio singer from Boston who had relocated to New York in 1931. The earliest record of all three living together in an apartment is in October 1934, when the paper announces that they had taken an apartment together “in the Fifties.” Given the money Aggie was making at that point, they didn’t need a roommate, but Jack had become a tiny bit unpredictable, as I said before. Typically, you don’t send Christmas cards with pictures of yourself, your husband, and your roommate on them.  As far as people were concerned, Jack and Agnes were like an old married couple of three people. It’s not typical behavior, but when everybody is happy and safe, it’s sane behavior. Even when speaking of friends, Peg uses the phrase, “All of our friends are what we call 'Right down to earth.” They all lived in the same apartment, worked in the same workplace, so why not do group Christmas cards? The cards from 'our friends' always include their three names: Agnes, Peg, and Jacky Whack. Explain it away, I dare you.


 When Peg moved in with Jack and Agnes, they lived in Sutton Place, next door to Barry McKinley, with whom Agnes worked. By this point, Aggie had a steady income, and Jack was doing some acting, some selling candy, and some of whatever else he did. 


They didn’t need a roommate. But they sure had one. Agnes gifted Peg a Touchwood silver bracelet for luck, and she never took it off!  Peg lived with them for at least two years and most likely three.  Agnes started saving everything except for private letters unless they were from Jack. He was harmless for the most part. Once she went to Hollywood, Peg did not even send me a Christmas card. She was upset at Aggie’s leaving, and I suspect they had quite the tiff. Even when Peg moved to Hollywood, they still didn’t speak. Make of that what you will.


1935 was a big year for Agnes. She still worked with Barry McKinley in “The Girl Next Door.” She was on the radio constantly. She was in “Hits and Bits,”  became a supporting cast member for the new Helen Hayes serial, and Phil Baker tapped me for “Bottle and Beetle.” That show was the Cadillac Aggie that would ride to fame on the radio. By October, she was christened “Chameleon of Ether Waves.” The world woke up to a new Agnes, a woman unafraid to try anything. Her comedic timing and ability to mimic just about anybody sent her shooting up the ladder of success on a bullet.


Still, she managed to keep one foot in the real world. In August, an article appeared explaining how Agnes had taught the sons of Emperor Haile Selassie English. As her fame grew, she never hesitated to remind people that she had been a school teacher in a small Wisconsin town called “Soldiers Grove.” She put that tiny spot on the global map, and the city loved it. Many articles turn up in Wisconsin newspapers, crowing about her time in Soldiers Grove and Reedsburg. Suddenly, the eyes of the world were on Madison, Reedsburg, and Soldiers Grove. She never ceased to be proud of her time in Wisconsin. Agnes wore it like a medal of honor.  Wisconsin loved me for it and proudly called her one of their own. 


Despite the trip together the year before, Molly and John still lived separate lives in the same house. In March, Grace made her pilgrimage to Columbus for a ten-day stay. John did something he hadn’t done in August for a long time. He headed to New Concord, Ohio, his family's home, and spent a week with his brothers and sister. John loved easter Ohio and loved New Concord in particular. It was his happy place. His brothers worked on his Father’s farm. It was that farm that retained the solace John so desperately needed. It allowed him to breathe and relax. John didn’t do this enough after the death of his Father and Peggy in 1929. I think the pain was deep and too heavy for him. His Father died in April 1929, and his daughter died in July. You can’t run when everything around you reminds you of a loss. By 1935, the wound of his Father's passing had healed enough for Johns to go home to the farm and make his peace with all of it.


Bottle and Beetle

In December 1935, I began an association that would fling her into the public eye in the coming years. I worked with a man named Phil Baker. My first appearance was voicing the part of “Tuna Tuna of Tahiti” on Phil Baker’s show. I was hysterical, and Baker loved it.


Embracing Change 1936

“Embrace change. It is the only constant in life.”1936 

Agnes Moorehead


In Charge of Lonely Hearts

Phil Baker allegedly paid Agnes $500 a week? Life was good, and 1936 began with a bang!


On January 5th, the airwaves carried a show called “The Great American Tourist” with Bottle and Beetle. The comedic foil was none other than little old Aggie.  Phil Baker, the creator of Bottle and Beetle, was a comedian and radio emcee who was a household name. Aggie began working with Phil in December of the previous year. It was his show that allowed her to make the world laugh. She did it with flair, elegance, and a massive helping of perverse hilarity. This was who Agnes was meant to be. It was this show that put the money in her pocket. By September 1936, she earned five hundred dollars a week for her appearances on the show. In 1936, I am sure it felt like a small fortune. Most performers would be content to do that and nothing else, but Aggie wasn’t like most. She continued working on other projects, adding to my pile of money. She took on the role of Anna Bartlett in “Way Down East. Agnes worked with Helen Hayes and Joe Cotton. She did not sit still, ever. Agnes even squeezed in tour dates with Phil Baker. She was eating it up like cake!


December 3, 1936

The Cincinnati Post

Comedienne Gets Funny

Agnes Moorehead, a comedienne who appears regularly for Phil Baker, came across her comic characterization of a disgusted secretary in a peculiar way. Some time ago, while making a business call, Agnes became so annoyed with the secretary's manner of speaking that she began to mimic her voice. The secretary burst out laughing and said, “Gosh, sister, you sure sound funny.”  So Agnes had her character.


Aunt Cam

Aunt Cam was Papa's younger sister. She was a formidable woman. Aunt Cam had opinions about everything and was completely happy to explain her views to them. God help you if you dissent from any of them. My Aunt could talk both your ears off at the same time. Lord, help her; she has this voice! Mind you, Aunt Cam wasn’t a tiny woman, and her voice was as shrill and stridently Victorian as it was attention-grabbing. She would fuss at Papa for everything. When she discovered that I was going to New York, she first said, “John!” “She’ll get her name in the papers!” I told her smugly, “Aunt Cam, that’s the point of acting.” The look she shot back was withering! My Aunt Cam became a regular part of my one-woman show, and it was a high point that made folks laugh. By the way, her name was a mouthful too, Camilla Urso Moorehead.” Try saying that fast three times. It took me years to learn how to say it without getting one of those withering looks.


Also Starring Jack Lee

In December 1936, Jack once more took to the stage. He was in “The Holmeses of Baker Street.” The role is small, and reviews of Jack’s performance are nowhere to be found. I had nothing but the program for the scrapbooks. But here was a review right below the newspaper cast list, giving the show an enthusiastic thumbs down.  I must respect his willingness to keep trying, but the show closed on December 20th. Jack was so close to broken. I tried to cheer him up, but it doesn't work very well when the person doing the cheering is also the one whose career makes yours look like a wish sandwich. Jack would just look at me and get angry. He had a load on the majority of the time now, and when I needed him to go somewhere with me, I had to watch him so he’d stay sober. It began to feel more like I was his keeper than his wife. I am sure that he felt it, too.


















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