Published Manuscript
We are entertaining the idea of publishing a first edition of Ralph's manuscript
in book form. This would be a hard bound limited print first edition with the complete manuscript
(around 100 pages) and pictures. At this time we are trying to gauge
interest. If you think you would be interested in a copy of this book, should we
publish it,
Draft pages will be posted here so
you can get an idea of what it contains. Page 1 Page 2 [Page 3]
Page 4 Page
5 Page 6 Page 7
Page 8 Page 9
Page 10 Page 11 Page
12 Page
13 Page
14 Page
15 Page
16 Page
17 Page
18 Page
19 Page
20 Page 21
Page
22 Page
23 Page
24 Page
25 Page
26
Posted - February 4, 2004 The first time I massaged Marilyn was at the
Beverly Hills Hotel, where she and Arthur had a bungalow. The
appointment was for nine o’clock, and when I got there a few
minutes before, they had just finished having dinner. We chatted for
a minute, and then Arthur went to the bedroom. She asked if it would
be all right with me, to set the table before the fire, and to turn
off the lights. I thought it a great idea, and explained my
procedure for massage; for her to lie face up, to cover with two
towels, and I would start the massage on the left arm, continuing
until the front of the body was done, then turn-over time for the
back of the body. She got on the table, closed her eyes, and I
began. The feel of the body was incredible and the feel of different
bodies is as distinctive to a masseur as (?) the whorls on the
finger to a ( ). In the 5 – 6 years I had been a masseur, I could
remember only two people with that particular kind of feel – Ruth
Berle, and Ann Johnson. As the massage continued, I began
fantasizing; working on one of the most desirable women in the world
– one of the top movie stars – probably the top sex symbol –
and before a glowing fire in the bungalow of a hotel I’d read
about all my life; what man in the world wouldn’t give his eye
teeth to be in my position. It was almost as though all those
daydreams of my movie-struck North Carolina days had come true. But
fifteen minutes of this, and my mind started roaming. I thought of a
book I’d been reading that night before coming to the appointment
– THE PROFESSOR’S HOUSE by Willa Cather. Then I told Marilyn to
put her knees up, while I worked on her stomach. She opened her eyes
for the first time, and asked, "Ralph, do you know an author
named Willa Cather?" I gave an inward jump, but "She’s
my favorite author. Why?" "One of my favorite books of all
time is her LOST LADY. I’d love to do a movie of it, and
investigate the possibility. But it seems that a silent movie had
been made of it, and Miss Cather so hated it, that she would never
let anything of hers be done. And, even left it in her will."
Turnover time, and she closed her eyes, and I wondered for the first
of hundreds of times if she could read my mind. At one point in Reno
about a year later, she admitted that she often felt that way about
me – that quite often she would be thinking about some particular
subject that had nothing to do with anything that had been talked
about, and I would come out with a remark involving this subject. I
quite early in North Carolina became aware of certain amount of ESP
in me, but had never come across another person with whom it was so
strong as with Marilyn. Toward the end of the massage, my mind was
wandering again, and I was thinking about a close friend of mine in
New York, a singer named Janice Mars, who had a small nightclub on
Sixth Avenue called BAQ ROOM. I went there every night that I was in
New York, and was thinking that in a few months I’d be returning,
and would be able to hear her. Marilyn, for the first time in the
twenty minutes since she’d turned "Ralph, do you know an
actress at the studio named Janice Mars?" Again, an inward
jump, and "She’s one of my closest friends. I’ve known her
since Herbert Berghof days. We were in a class together with people
like Maureen Stapleton, Felicia Montealegre, (etc.). Maureen and
Janice were roommates in a brownstone on 52nd Street, where Marlon
Brando and Bill Redfield were roommates. As a matter of fact, I
remember a Shakespeare class there taught by Uta Hagen, with Janice
and Jack Lemmon. I think that’s where Jack met his first wife,
Cynthia Robinson." "Oh, I’ll have to spout a line of
Shakespeare to him." The massage over, I started to turn on a
light but she pleaded she hated lights, and she was so relaxed she
was going to bed, but could we see each other the next night at
nine. Manuscript property of the estate of Ralph L. Roberts. Do not
copy without permission.