Grandpa
pouted as grandma swooned for Valentino
In an era of fast cars, flappers and bathtub gin, a restless and liberated
generation searched for a hero. They found him in silent screen star
Rudolph Valentino who, a decade earlier, was among the influx of poor
Europeans who came to America.
Like
most Italian immigrants arriving in New York City, Valentino found work
at a number of unskilled jobs procured by his fellow countrymen -- jobs
that included dishwasher, waiter and New York taxi driver.
Born
in Castellaneta, Italy, in 1895, he was christened Rodolfo Alfonso Filiberto
Raffaello Filiberto Guglielmi. The handsome Italian would later reinvent
himself as Rudolf Valentino to become the silent screen's biggest star.
It
was Valentino's dancing career that eventually led him to Hollywood,
where his dark good looks and seductive glances appealed both to American-born
youth and immigrants who had passed through New York's Ellis Island
earlier in the decade.
Immigrants
felt a special kinship with the Italian-born star, especially young
Italian women of the 1920s who so adored Valentino that they christened
their sons "Valentino" or "Rodolfo" in his honor.
It's been many years since I sat upon Grandma's knee listening to her
reminiscence of the great Valentino.
Grandma,
like most of her generation, first saw Valentino on the silent screen
in 1921 starring in The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. After that
film, Grandma and every female over the age of 18 fell for his charms.
Valentino's
personal life became a strange montage of hasty marriages, messy divorces
and scandalous romances -- par for the course during any Hollywood era.
Valentino's flashy appearance and arrogant style earned him disfavor
with the American press, that deemed him a corruptive influence on the
younger generation.
It
was around this time that Valentino's most memorable film The Sheik
debuted at my Grandma's local Hippodrome theater. Grandma insisted that
Papa take her to every performance. Grandma would stand impatiently
by the front door, anxiously waiting while calling to her husband: "Vieni,
vieni, Papa", “Come, come, Papa, it’s time to see Rodolfo.”
Grandpa would grudgingly oblige.
That
was until 1922, when Valentino made a film called The Young Rajah. In
this film, the young attractive star wore little more than a skimpy,
bejeweled loincloth and turban. The loincloth displayed far too much
of the star's anatomy to suit Papa.
"No
wife of mine is going to be exposed to such scandalous behavior,"
he grumbled and forbade his wife to see the film. Grandma's temper erupted
and for the next few days there would be no peace in the house until
Grandpa relented and took grandma to see the film.
But
he issued one condition: Grandma would have to cover her eyes when Valentino's
bare chest appeared on the screen. Grandma reluctantly agreed and was
forced to watch the movie through cupped hands, discreetly peeking through
her fingers.
To
capitalize on Valentino's popularity in the mid-1920s , the Ghirardelli
chocolate company included a randomly placed picture of the star inside
the wrappers of their candy bars. Grandma took daily walks to the grocery
store to purchase one of those chocolate bars. Most times Grandma tossed
out the candy and kept the wrapper. A howl of delight would echo through
the house whenever Grandma discovered a picture of the sheik inside
the wrapper.
Papa's
attitude toward Valentino's films softened when the actor starred with
the beautiful Vilma Banky in The Son of the Sheik. Grandpa was beguiled
by the glamorous Banky and gladly took Grandma to see this movie. Unfortunately,
it would be Valentino's final film.
During
the 1920s,Valentino and his films came to symbolize exotic Arabian nights.
As a result, ornate wall tapestries, tunics, cassocks and garish jewelry
became the rage in home decorating and personal wear. For many years,
a gaudy tapestry of a sheik riding off on a white stallion hung on Grandma's
living room wall.
Although
each male member of the family voiced his dislike for the garish tapestry,
Grandma's daughters and granddaughters understood its significance and
why she stubbornly refused to take it down during her lifetime. The
tapestry served as a reminder to Grandma of her early arrival in this
country, of her young married life, her lost youth, and her beloved
movie sheik. He was to her what Elvis was to her Granddaughters and
Ricky Martin is today to her great granddaughters.
Valentino
died in 1926 at the age of 31. The official cause of death was a ruptured
appendix. But millions of female fans, including Grandma, refused to
accept that he could have been felled by something so mundane. Instead,
they chose to believe he met with foul play, poisoned perhaps by a scorned
lover.
This
theory was encouraged by a mysterious lady in black who, for 50 years,
placed a bouquet of flowers on Valentino's grave.
Though Valentino earned millions during his heyday, when he died on
Aug. 21, 1926, he was broke and deeply in debt.
There's
an ancient belief that a man lives as long as the last person who remembers
him. Few of Valentino's original fans survive today, but judging form
the light that shone in Grandma's eyes each time she spoke of him, Valentino
the man may be gone, but Valentino the legend will long live on.