Is another biography of Katharine Hepburn (1907-2003) necessary? At least 16 books about her have been published, including her own misleading memoirs, Me. Only Greta Garbo and Marilyn Monroe have elicited so many tomes. Unlike them, Hepburn neither retired early nor died young. So what does James Robert Parrish's Katharine Hepburn: The Untold Story (Advocate Books, $24.95) add? An analysis of her sexuality.
During her long career, this most lauded Hollywood star manipulated the media to craft an image that differed from reality. Initially as reticent as Garbo, she eventually became as press-friendly as Joan Crawford. Hepburn claimed she was the product of a marvelous, progressive family, and that she unselfishly rejected motherhood because of the demands of stardom. Her publicized romance with Howard Hughes and love affair with married actor Spencer Tracy, with whom she made nine films, added to her mystique. Throughout, she remained a feminist icon. According to Parrish, her life was far more complex than she admitted, or that biographers have chronicled.
Parrish asserts Hepburn was bisexual, if not lesbian; that her only husband, Ogden Ludlow Smith, was also bisexual; that her affair with Hughes was mainly for publicity purposes; and that her relationship with Tracy was primarily platonic. He also claims that the alcoholic Tracy was bisexual. Additionally, he shows that Hepburn's noted urologist father and feminist mother encouraged their children to discuss politics, while suppressing emotions. He offers evidence that her adored older brother Tom's suicide at age 15 may have been triggered by taunts about his "unmanly" interests and by a fellow student's rebuffing his homosexual advances. Hepburn found his body — he had hung himself — and it was the most traumatic event of her life.
How convincing is Parrish? By necessity, his arguments are circumstantial. For Hepburn, his evidence is compelling. While working on stage before movies, critics called her "too masculine" and felt she couldn't generate sexual chemistry with males. In her first Broadway success, The Warrior's Husband (32), she played an Amazon, making her entrance in male military drag, carrying a fake antelope across her shoulders. Offstage, she was much more intimate with socialite Laura Harding than with her husband. Harding accompanied Hepburn to Hollywood for her screen debut in A Bill of Divorcement (32), directed by openly gay George Cukor, who would become her very close friend. The wealthy, loyal Harding never married, and the two women remained close until her death.
Hepburn's relationship with Harding wasn't unique. At one of Cukor's cozy, usually gay parties, she met actress Elissa Landi, rumored to be bisexual, and for a time they were quite intimate. Cukor introduced her to the bisexual Garbo, whom she idolized. Their close friendship endured for many years. Jane Loring, a "mannish" movie editor believed to be a lesbian, became very close to Hepburn. In the 1950s, after lesbian actress Constance Collier died, her "companion," Phyliss Wilbourn, lived with Hepburn, and was buried in the Hepburn family plot.
Private affairs
Parrish's case regarding Tracy's sexuality, however, is less compelling. He relies principally on recollections by Richard Gully, published in 2001. Gully was for many years part of Hollywood's inner circle. Given the closeted era, Gully may be right, but the evidence remains weak. Parrish doesn't make one connection which may support his argument. Tracy for years rented a cottage on Cukor's Beverly Hills estate. The two were friends and colleagues. Cukor brought hustlers home. Tracy must have known that. Did he follow suit?
More certain is that Tracy, married, father of two, had affairs with Loretta Young, Joan Crawford, and Gene Tierney. He was also an abusive alcoholic, frequently going on benders. Parrish quotes knowledgeable sources when stating that the complex relationship between Hepburn and Tracy was primarily platonic.
That Hepburn devoted herself to Tracy's care is true. They were discreet about their relationship, and the press cooperated. After his death and that of his widow, Hepburn began burnishing the story of their great love and made herself appear noble by insisting they kept it private to spare Mrs. Tracy. Tracy, a devout Roman Catholic, wouldn't seek a divorce. Hepburn claimed she never wanted to marry him — her one failed marriage was enough. But the relationship also deflected speculation about her sexuality, and perhaps his.
Parrish excels when discussing Hepburn the woman. Regarding her career, he offers few new insights. He fails to note that although she won a record four Best Actress Oscars, none came for her finest work. His comparisons with her peers Crawford, Bette Davis, and Claudette Colbert are superficial. For example, although Hepburn outlasted her rivals, making her final film 62 years after her debut, she only appeared in 42 movies, half of Crawford's total. Again, unlike Davis and Crawford, Hepburn only had a few years as a box-office star — from 1940 on, every hit she had required a potent male lead. Suddenly Last Summer (59) is an exception, but top-billed Elizabeth Taylor carried it to commercial success.
Although she worked regularly in the theatre, Hepburn rejected a great part, Hannah in Tennessee Williams' Night of the Iguana (61). Parrish incorrectly writes that Davis replaced her — Davis played the other leading female role, Margo, and the producers had hoped to team the two legends. Margaret Leighton enjoyed a staggering triumph in the part Hepburn declined. But Hepburn rarely worked with actresses whose stature threatened hers, Ginger Rogers in Stage Door (37) and Taylor being the exceptions, and both held their own against her.
Source notes would bolster Parrish's arguments, although the bibliography is extensive. Regardless of its shortcomings, his biography succeeds because he assesses the actress named by the American Film Institute the greatest legend of the 20th century from a new, logical perspective. Hepburn's behavior makes a great deal more sense when viewed through her lesbian or bisexual orientation. Despite her seeming candor and courage, she feared revealing who she was, which adds a melancholy note to a remarkable life. Parrish and Advocate Books have done a great service in reclaiming one more part of gay and lesbian history.