Carole Lombard relaxing in a sun lounger, circa 1935
"She gets up too early, plays tennis too hard, wastes time and feeling on trifles and drinks Coca-Colas the way Samuel Johnson used to drink tea. She is a scribbler on telephone pads, inhibited nail-nibbler, toe-puller, pillow-grabber, head-and-elbow scratcher, and chain cigarette smoker. When Carole Lombard talks, her conversation, often brilliant, is punctuated by screeches, laughs, growls, gesticulations and the expletives of a sailor’s parrot.”
I love everything I do. I’m immensely interested in and enthusiastic in everything I do, everything. No matter what it is I’m doing, no matter how trivial, it isn’t trivial to me. I give it all I got and love it. I love living. I love life. Eating, sleeping, waking up again, skeet-shooting, sitting around an old barn doing nothing, my work, taking a bath, talking my ears off, the little things, the big things, the simplest things, the most complicated things—I get a kick out of everything I do while I’m doing it. If I don’t love what I’m doing I don’t DO it. But if I have to do something I’m not nuts about now and then, as who doesn’t, I DO it and get it over with. I never anticipate trouble. I never worry, never fret. I can’t duck issues. Ducking issues causes more grief than the issues themselves ever do. I never sit around and clutch my head and moan, ‘I HAVE to do so-and-so, alas Lo, the poor Lombard!’—I just say, ‘Let’s DO it’ or ‘Okay, let’s GO!’—and it’s done and there’s nothing to it”
— Carole Lombard, 1938
Happy birthday Jane Alice Peters aka Carole Lombard!! (October 6, 1908 -
January 18, 1942)
When Norma Shearer was a real-life Jezebel
Carole Lombard was the hostess of the annual White Mayfair Ball. Gentlemen were insisted to wear white ties and tails and ladies were instructed to wear all white as well. An hour into the party Norma Shearer arrived. Heads turned. ‘Why, that fucking bitch!’ muttered Carole. Norma was wearing a bright Crimson red gown.
‘Daaarrling!’ exclaimed Norma. ‘Thanks so much, Norma darling.’ growled Carole. Norma laughed and made her way among the crowd.
‘Wanna dance?’ said Clark Gable who was amused at Carole’s anger. ‘Did you ever see such a bitch with so much nerve?’ said Carole as she motioned to a giggling Norma. ‘She’s a good kid.’ answered Gable. ‘I go for you, Ma’ he smiled. ‘I go for you too, Pa.’
Carole Lombard, 1928