High Society: The Life of Grace Kelly - Couverture rigide

One: Off the Main Line

I never really felt pretty, bright or socially adept.—Grace
In the late 1920s, the Hahnemann Medical College, at the corner of Broad and Vine Streets in Philadelphia, was one of the largest private hospitals in the United States. Unusual luxuries characterized the private rooms: a telephone and radio were installed at every bedside; nurses could be summoned and addressed by call-buttons and two-way speakers; and high-speed elevators whisked visitors to the wards. Although Hahnemann accepted emergency cases from every socioeconomic class, it catered, unofficially but famously, to the demands of the rich from the counties of eastern Pennsylvania.
Early in the morning of Tuesday, November 12, 1929, John B. Kelly escorted his wife, Margaret Majer Kelly, to Hahnemann, where, after an unexceptional labor, she bore her third child and second daughter. On December 1, the Kellys took the baby to St. Bridget’s Roman Catholic Church, a three-minute, half-mile drive from their home in the upscale neighborhood of Philadelphia known as East Falls. The infant was baptized Grace Patricia, in memory of an aunt who had died young, and (so Grace Kelly believed) “because I was Tuesday’s child”—who, according to Mother Goose, was “full of grace.”

On the banks of the Schuylkill River, East Falls has always been a quiet residential neighborhood, known for its easy commute to downtown Philadelphia. The most respected, established families—Protestants with “old money” like the Drexels, Biddles, Clarks, Cadwaladers and Wideners—lived across the river, in western suburbs along the ?so-?called Main Line, in eighteen communities (among them, Overbrook, Merion, Wynnewood, Ardmore, Haverford, Bryn Mawr, Rosemont and Radnor). The river was very like a social dividing line.

But membership in Philadelphia’s élite depended more on history than geography: one was “in society” only if a family could be traced back to colonial times, before the War of Independence. The class distinctions were so immutable that the Kellys knew they would never be accepted into high society, no matter the extent of their wealth. The Kellys were Irish, Roman Catholic and Democrats; Philadelphia society was English, Episcopalian and Republican. “We could have been members of the social register—the so-called Four Hundred—if we’d wanted to,” Grace Kelly’s mother said. “But we had other things to do.” If she really believed this, she was astonishingly naïve. Her husband knew otherwise; instead, he set out to “do well” in business, athletics and politics.

When Grace was born, the entire country was in the throes of a terrible financial crisis. At the end of October the stock market was in almost total collapse, signaling an economic disaster that led to the Great Depression. Scores of banks failed overnight; innumerable companies shut their doors forever; and millions of Americans were suddenly homeless and jobless, pitchforked into abject poverty and facing a future without prospects. The United States was steeped in despair, and newspapers chronicled a tragic epidemic of suicides.
Some families, however, were untouched by the gruesome facts of national life, and Grace’s was among them. Her father, John B. Kelly, had never speculated in the stock market, and his wealth—achieved in the construction trade during the boom time after the Great War—was held in cash and government bonds. His seventeen-room brick mansion at 3901 Henry Avenue was set amid lush, undulating lawns, and the property featured a tennis court and elaborate recreational equipment for active children. The house was mortgage-free, like Kelly’s seaside vacation home in Ocean City, New Jersey. The family sailed through the Depression enjoying a genteel, privileged life: the Kelly children attended private academies; there were household servants and workers to tend the grounds and gardens; and the children wore only the finest new seasonal wardrobes.

Grace had two older siblings: Margaret (“Peggy”), born in September 1925; and John junior (“Kell”), born in May 1927. The family was complete with the birth of Elizabeth Anne (“Lizanne”) in June 1933. “I wasn’t a strong child like my sisters and brother,” Grace said years later, “and my family told me they thought I was practically born with a cold—I was always sniffling and sneezing, clearing my throat and fighting some kind of respiratory ailment.” Her mother routinely reserved the juices of the family roasts for fragile young Grace, in a constant effort to improve the child’s strength and stamina.

“My other children were the strong ones, the extroverts, but Gracie was shy and retiring,” her mother recalled. “She was also frail and sickly a good deal of the time.” The girl filled the hours of her frequent confinements by making up stories and plays for her collection of dolls. “Grace could change her voice for each doll, giving it a different character. She loved attention for all this, but she didn’t cry if she didn’t get it.”

Thin and withdrawn, Grace preferred to read myths, fairy tales and books about dancers and dancing; indeed, her favorite dolls were fashioned like tiny ballerinas, complete with pointe shoes and delicate tutus. She also loved to read poetry and tried her hand at verses:
I hate to see the sun go downAnd squeeze itself into the ground,Since some warm night it might get stuckAnd in the morning not get up!
Grace was largely indifferent to physical activity: “I liked to swim, but did my best to avoid other sports and games.” This attitude made her something of an outsider. Her father had been an Olympic athlete, her mother a champion swimmer and physical education teacher, and their children were strongly encouraged—indeed, they were expected—to excel at competitive sports. Grace’s preference for books and imaginative games did not go down well with her father, a man who had little interest in cultural or intellectual matters.

Born in 1889, John B. “Jack” Kelly was the youngest of ten children born to Irish immigrants. Quitting school in early adolescence, he worked in the family firm as a bricklayer while perfecting his skill at sculling (rowing on the river), and during army service in the World War, he became a champion boxer. Returning to civilian life, Jack rejoined his father’s company, Kelly for Brickwork, and the postwar building boom of the 1920s quickly made him a millionaire. He did not, however, achieve this on his own, as he often implied, nor was he a self-made American success story. “They’ve latched on to the bricklayer theme and won’t let go of this Horatio Alger idea,” said his brother George, who directly confronted Jack’s self-glorification. “What’s all this talk about you getting callused hands laying bricks? The only times I remember you having calluses were from long hours of scull practice on the Schuylkill River!”
Wealth freed Jack to spend those long hours rowing. After winning six national championships, he headed for the Henley Regatta in England, the most celebrated event in the sport of sculling. But in 1920 his application for inclusion was rejected at the last minute when the judges determined that his years of manual labor and muscular development as a bricklayer gave him an unfair advantage over “gentleman” athletes. The true reason for his dismissal, however, was that the English authorities did not want to risk giving a prize to an Irish-American Catholic. The consequential outcry was so loud that by 1937 the rules at Henley no longer excluded manual laborers, mechanics or artisans as unfit for the competition.

More determined than ever after this rejection, Kelly proceeded to the 1920 summer Olympics at Antwerp, Belgium, where he won a gold medal in the single scull and, half an hour later, a second gold medal in the double scull, in which he rowed with a cousin. His family later swore to the truth of the anecdote that he mailed his racing cap to King George V with the message, “Greetings from a bricklayer.” Four years later, during the summer of 1924, Kelly and his cousin repeated their success at the Paris Olympics—an achievement that made “the Irish bricklayer” the first rower to win three Olympic gold medals. With that, he became one of the most famous athletes of his generation, and his name was included in the United States Olympic Hall of Fame. Later he was appointed National Physical Fitness Director by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who regarded him as a good friend.

Before his Paris triumph, Kelly renounced bachelorhood (but not his avocation as a womanizer) when he married Margaret Majer on January 30, 1924, at St. Bridget’s Church. She was nine years his junior and as strikingly beautiful as he was darkly handsome. They had first met at a swim club, where she successfully competed; she was also one of Philadelphia’s most successful cover-girl models. With her degree in physical education, she became the first woman to teach that field at the University of Pennsylvania and at Women’s Medical College. She converted from Lutheranism to her fiancé’s religion just before their wedding.

“I had a good stiff German background,” Margaret said years later. “My parents believed in discipline and so do I—no tyranny or anything like that, but a certain firmness.” Proper appearances, unfailing decorum, the importance of manners: these were almost religious observances for Margaret Majer Kelly. She trained her children to control themselves, to hide pain and disappointment, to suppress their emotions in public, to disguise effort and to strive for perfection without seeming to do so. Her tutoring was mor...

Drawing on his unprecedented access to Grace Kelly, bestselling biographer Donald Spoto at last offers an intimate, honest, and authoritative portrait of one of Hollywood’s legendary actresses.

In just seven years–from 1950 through 1956–Grace Kelly embarked on a whirlwind career that included roles in eleven movies. From the principled Amy Fowler Kane in High Noon to the thrill-seeking Frances Stevens of To Catch a Thief, Grace established herself as one of Hollywood’s most talented actresses and iconic beauties. Her astonishing career lasted until her retirement at age twenty-six, when she withdrew from stage and screen to marry a European monarch and became a modern, working princess and mother.

Based on never-before-published or quoted interviews with Grace and those conducted over many years with her friends and colleagues–from costars James Stewart and Cary Grant to director Alfred Hitchcock–as well as many documents disclosed by her children for the first time, acclaimed biographer Donald Spoto explores the transformation of a convent schoolgirl to New York model, successful television actress, Oscar-winning movie star, and beloved royal.

As the princess requested, Spoto waited twenty-five years after her death to write this biography. Now, with honesty and insight, High Society reveals the truth of Grace Kelly’s personal life, the men she loved, the men she didn’t, and what lay behind the façade of her fairy-tale life.