MARK HARMON'S MOTHER, MAYBELLINE MODEL, ELYSE KNOX DIES AT 94.

During the ’30s to the ’60s movie magazines around the world were overflowing with glamorous photographs of movie stars. One of the most interesting photographers working during this period was Paul Hesse who helped pioneer the use of color film in commercial art. (Old Movies Nostalgia.)

Paul Hesse and Elyse Knox.

Elyse Knox married fashion photographer
Paul Hesse, who had shot many of her print ads and magazine covers. 

                                            Elyse Knox

MAYBELLINE LIGHTS THE WAY TO NEW EYE BEAUTY, signed Elyse Knox.  By 1938 Paul Hesse had earned his reputation as one of the best commercial photographers working in New York. He was traveling to Hollywood several times a year to shoot glamorous photos of the stars for Photoplay magazine and he became the first photographer to use color in a national advertising campaign. 

Elyse Knox

Hesse enjoyed working with actors and he created many popular celebrity endorsed ad campaigns for companies such as  Maybelline, Rheingold Beer, Chesterfield Cigarettes, Lipton Tea, Royal Crown Cola and Studebaker automobiles. He also shot many photos for American Magazine.

     Elyse Knox

His colorful and hyper-realistic portraits of celebrities had a very distinct style that is still noticeable today. 

Elyse Knox.

The actress Greer Garson once said that Paul Hesse was, “greatly in demand by the leading national magazines to create cover-portraits to delight the eye. The result would be a true-to-life likeness but idealized, or glamorized if you will, by his superb technique in producing only delectable color values.”

Elyse Knox.

In 1940 Hesse decided to move to Los Angeles where he opened a new studio on Sunset Boulevard that became a gathering place for Hollywood stars and industry bigwigs. According to the book Masters of Starlight: Photographers In Hollywood, he was awarded the title of “Hollywood’s Photographic Ziegfeld” by a committee of unnamed movie stars in recognition of his contribution to their careers. 

Elyse Knox dies at 94; 

B-movie actress inthe 1940s.

Elyse Knox appeared in nearly 40 films. She was

perhaps best known for the only horror film she ever 

made, 'The Mummy's Tomb,' with Lon Chaney Jr. as the

 

monster who kidnaps her.

Elyse Knox and Tom Harmon.

While appearing on the Bing Crosby radio show, Elyse 

Knox met football star Tom Harmon. 

They were engaged to marry, but ended the relationship 

when Harmon entered the U.S. Army Air Corps in 1942.

Later that year, Knox married fashion photographer

Paul Hesse  The marriage was brief. Following her

divorce and Tom Harmon's return from World War II

during which he survived two plane crashes and being 

(lost in the jungle), she and Harmon married in 1944.

Knox's wedding dress was made from silk from the

parachute Harmon used when bailing out of his crippled 

plane.

   

Tom Harmon

 The couple remained together until his death in 1990. 

Please click on link below for past post on Elyse Knox.

http://www.maybellinebook.com/2011/06/maybelline-pin-up-girl-elyse-knox-1944.html

Link to past post about NCIS and Maybelline cousin, Brian Dietzen, Jimmy Palmer in the show.

http://www.maybellinebook.com/2012/02/congratulations-ncis-and-brian-dietzen.html

Stay tuned for more Maybelline Stars

 photographed by the Great Paul Hesse.

AFTER THE FIRE, "I DANCE WITH MY FATHER."

For eighteen months we watched our home spring out of the ground into a structure that would usher in one of the happiest periods of our lives.  Who would have dreamed I'd have to lose everything to gain it back ten fold

I think the most exciting part about building a house is seeing it framed..... and that first time you turn on the electricity.....  The thrill of seeing what was only a blueprint turn into a real home is awe inspiring. 

The biggest cost of building my home was the foundation and retaining walls.  Normally a fire wouldn't cause so much damage that you'd have to rip out the old foundation, but a firestorm that melts cars to the ground is a different story.

Another thrill in the building process is seeing the roof go on.  At that point you know the job is someday going to end.  Which up to that point doesn't seem possible.

What's really hard is spending the whole day with contractors and having no place to sit.  Gloria made a chair out of a cement block while my dad inspected the work being done on the floor.

The windows arrived and my dad checked them out to make sure they are all accounted for.  He'd built homes  before and knew the importance of checking and double checking every detail on the spot.

At last the structure takes on the appearance of a real home, but we are still months away from moving in.

My dad was fanatical about the paint job being done right.  He fired the first crew of painters because they didn't have an eye for perfection.  He wanted the walls so smooth that when you ran your hand over them, they would feel like glass.  That's what 1930's Art Deco was all about as far as he was concerned.

Getting close to finishing the job, we gained a new respect for working together as a team.  I'm not saying it was ideal, there were times we wanted to kill each other, but in the end I have to say, my dad was the wind beneath my wings.  He showed me I could start and finish anything with the right state of mind.

When the landscapers added the tropical plants to the outside of the house the whole thing popped with color and became a beautiful little Mediterranean Villa.  It was More than I ever dreamed I would have.

When the house was finally done and the contractors pulled away, my dad continued to come over everyday and add the magical details that made the inside of the house look like a movie set..... Here he is with the 1977 Series 1, Clenet, # 13, I've talked about so much on my blog.  We now enter it in Concours de' Elegance shows.

It was my dad who put the blue glass Cross on the fireplace to give the feeling of a sanctuary and the light from all the windows made the room an artist's dream.

DANCE WITH MY FATHER, BY CELINE DION.

Check back tomorrow to see the finished product as Georgia and I show you around our home.

MIRACLE AFTER THE LAGUNA BEACH FIRESTORM.

My great uncle Tom Lyle Williams had given me a Baby diamond ring in an Art Deco setting when I was born. It remained in a Floor Safe under an oriental rug in our garage, along with other valuable items and important papers.

After the remains of our house had been cleared off the lot, the safe was excavated and taken to a locksmith to be blow-torched open.  Hoping for a miracle, Georgia and I held our breath as a gush of black mucky slush... a combination of important documents mixed with rain water...poured out of the safe.  We almost lost hope when all of a sudden Georgia yelled, "wait Mom, look!"  

There in the middle of the muddy black ash sparkled the tiny diamond ring, like a beam of light in a dark scary night.  It reminded me of the saying, "It's always darkest before the dawn." and "Don't give up five minutes before the miracle." 

How that tiny ring survived the crematorium of that firestorm is a mystery.  I took it as meaning no matter how small and insignificant we think we are - the bright spirit inside us will endure even on the brink of hopelessness. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized that maybe the glory day's were gone... along with my precious heirlooms..... but my memories were still in tact and I can at least pass them on to Georgia. Nothing can take them away from her and she can pass them on to her kids someday.

That night in deep meditation a flash of light appeared in my mind and my great uncle, Tom Lyle, came to me.  He looked the same as he did in a dream I'd had about him the night he died.  I got the distinct feeling he was trying to tell me something.  

As I slowed my mind down I felt him saying..... "if you tell my story, I don't want to be remembered as the man who invented make-up, I want to be remembered as
                    "THE KING OF ADVERTISING." 

Now I knew I couldn't have a professional writer tell my story like William Morris wanted.  I had to write the book myself... with my dad's help..... so that the heart and soul of the family would remain in tact through my voice.  My story would be about an era gone with the wind, a company that remains a giant in its field today and a family whose love endured the triumphs and tragedies of success, while remaining as strong and resilient as a Baby diamond ring.

The Maybelline Story took another 17 years to finally be published, by Bettie Youngs Books in September of 2010.  My dad helped me write a 968 page manuscript that had to be edited a dozen times, but in the end it was my voice telling my story.  My dad didn't live to see The Maybelline Story in print.  However, the last thing he said to me two weeks before he died in 2006, was,

 "don't give up...It will happen."

My dad and I rebuilt a beautiful home together and Georgia and I finally began our new lives two and a half years after the firestorm.....But that's a new chapter!!!!

 Stay tuned tomorrow and the rest of the week as I post pictures of the house being built from the ground up.

EPIPHANY AFTER THE LAGUNA BEACH FIRE.

I yearned to finish my book someday and eventually live in my new home as a published authorof TheMaybellineStory. 

My 16 year old daughter, Georgia and I received fire-survivors counseling through FEMA and she began working through the post-trauma that had thrown her into a deep depression.  I tried to make the apartment and her room as luxurious as possible, but was so distracted with the rebuilding process, I seemed emotionally unavailable. She yearned for a boyfriend and within a year of the fire she found him and fell in love.  

My life however, had become a nightmare of red tape and paperwork... trying to give the Insurance company an idea of what I lost.  Georgia told me I cared more about money than anything else and was mad I wasn't more sympathetic about her feelings for her boyfriend.  I didn't approve of him and soon became the enemy.

The stress was killing me and the only place I felt safe was at the beach looking out at the rocks on the coastline.  I yearned for the past and cried for my mother, who's mental health prevented her from being emotionally available for years...... 

so I sought comfort and love from Mother Nature.....as I peacefully sat and watched the rocks being bathed by the crashing foamy waves.  With my life twisting and turning in chaos, the rocks with their sense of permanency gave me soul peace and soothed my broken spirit.

The busy people scurrying by on the boardwalk seemed so out of balance with the undisturbed rocks and It struck me how temporary life was and how material things come and go.  You just have to enjoy the stuff while you have it and then let it go. 

I reflected on my relationships as well, realizing they too are only temporary and could be washed away with the tide at any time. 

I'd close me eyes and think about America as far back as

possible and felt compassion and empathy for those who had lost everything in the Civil War, the holocaust, the Titanic, WWI, and WWII and cried for all the lost lives..... the lost dreams.  I pictured Abraham Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg address and thought about how freedom is really the greatest loss to endure and how fortunate I really was to only have lost my material things.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the rocks were here since the beginning of time and would probably remain until the end.  I reflected on how my family fit into the scheme of history..... like a deck of cards..... and began placing my family pictures into the stack.  I saw my grandparents, parents, siblings, Gene, Georgia and even my future grandchildren flowing through the deck and slowly my mind slowed down enough to filter through the lost boxes of pictures in the garage that had been destroyed by the fire.

Eva, Frances, Tom Lyle, Bennie, Preston Williams

 

Mabel Williams,

All of a sudden my imagination came back to life and I was able to see my great uncle Tom Lyle, smiling as he posed with his family in 1916, right after he renamed his little company Lash-Brow-Ine, Maybelline, in honor of his sister Mabel.

Day after day I looked forward to my quiet times at the beach listening to the hypnotic rhythm of the waves lulling me into deeper and deeper meditation.  I had discovered another world inside myself and as the birds called to each other from the rocks, my imagination turned their sounds into words.  My family's history came to life as tears poured onto my lap and quickly dried as if they never existed.

A deep sense of loss for my grandfather, Preston,... my dad's father, whom I'd never known, came over me and I felt the passion and romance of his spirit.  Stories of him unfolded as the waves misted my face..... and I knew he'd live forever in my heart.

Week after week, I put the puzzle of my past together and the clearer the picture became, the more I realized it was impossible to put a number on my loss without telling The Maybelline story. 

I called my agent at the Greenspan Co. and told them what I'd discovered and they agreed with me. My loss wasn't just a slam dunk situation, it was very unusual, almost on the level of a celebrity.  

"Where do I begin," I asked.

"From the beginning," my agent said, "we'll tell them the whole story as you remember it."

Stay tuned tomorrow, as the picture of my loss finally unfolds......

LAGUNA BEACH FIRESTORM... 
THE END IS ONLY THE BEGINNING.

Seeing my sixteen year old daughter so sad broke my heart.  I had to find a place to live, but everything in Laguna Beach  had already been scooped up. 

It had never occurred to me to find a place the day after the fire.  I'd waited too long wallowing in my feelings and let Georgia down.  A friend of mine suggested I rent an apartment in her complex right outside of town in the Canyon, but when I took Georgia to see it she was upset.

"It's nice Mom," she said, "but I refuse to take the bus to

school."

"If I promise to get up and take you everyday will it be

okay?"

"I can't be late anymore this year,"

"I know, so I'll have to force myself to get up."

She hated leaving town and becoming an "in-lander," even though it was only about two miles out of town. 
I had to make my first executive decision, so decided to rent the penthouse. It had vaulted ceilings, an electric fireplace, two master suites, access to a gym pool and Jacuzzi, activities room and was clean, functional and very comfortable. All I wanted after the nightmare of smoke and ash was luxury, serenity and peace.  The apartment was close enough to town, so that when the building process began, I'd be close to the site.

Georgia was not happy about it, but she moved in after I decorated the place with beautiful contemporary furniture, lush green plants and filled the kitchen with everything we'd ever need. 

The city of Laguna Beach, put up a fire relief outlet and

offered fire victims designer clothes from department stores and every conceivable item you could possibly need to replace what was lost. People donated tons of clothes, shoes, etc, etc. etc. until soon we had a charming, warm, elegant environment meeting our every need.  Our apartment was sensational, but sterile. There was nothing visible to remind us of our past.

The Insurance company gave me a Builder who told me I was under insured and wasn't going to be able to build my house near the craftsmen quality of my post WWII charm house. He refused to return my calls and soon I realized he was in cahoots with the insurance company.

I  hired an attorney who intimidated the insurance company and the builder into canceling the contract I'd signed, without getting advice first.

I met with the Architect, a nice Born Again Christian named Bruce and we clicked immediately. He told me the builder was a crook and helped me get rid of him and find one I could trust.  Bruce, met my dad at  the Lido Isle condo, because my dad wanted to show him how he'd designed and remodeled it into an Art Deco masterpiece. They clicked and immediately sat right down at the table and began drawing the plans for my new house. 

My dad's ideas were original, spectacular and expensive. I didn't want to stop his creative flow, but was afraid the insurance company would fight me every inch of the way and want to settle for a ridiculous amount, since I still couldn't give them a fiscal number representing my loss.

Mark and Barbara, my neighbors who had lived across the street, suggested I hire a professional who could help me present a picture of who I was and what I actually lost. I took their advice and hired the Greenspan  Company,  who represented me for 6% of my settlement.  The Greenspan Company adjuster met with me every week to formulate a picture of my background so they could place a value on my manuscripts, family pictures and all the relics I lost from M.G.M. and the Villa Valentino.

They portrayed me as an heiress and finally my financial loss began to take on weight.  My dad stood by me and Gloria, in her Rolls Royce, met me at the lot to collect checks from Mr. Anderson, my insurance adjuster, when he brought them by.  He stopped treating me like a stupid middle aged divorced single parent and began treating me like a member of a well respected family.

As the process moved along, I'd go over to my lot and spend hours digging through the ash searching for anything that might remind me of my life before the fire. Slowly but surely items from my past were unearthed and each time I pulled up a treasure buried

under dirt, ash, and broken charred pieces of stucco, I'd sit in the dirt and cry.   Memories flooded me as I dug out a broken piece of wedding china, Georgia's baby soap dish that had been in our bathroom since we moved to Laguna 12 years ago. 

 I was addicted to returning to the lot every morning after I dropped Georgia off at school and excavate more stuff.  When I found a broken cup with the word "Lawyer" printed on it, I fell apart.  I'd given it to Gene after he passed the bar, right after we were engaged and had so much to look forward to. Then I pulled out the broken stem of my Wedding crystal wine goblet and just shook my head in disbelief.  Things I'd taken for granted, were now as precious as ancient treasures from King Tut's tomb.

One day I found the broken China head of My mother's china doll, given to her father in 1929.  It had been used in a movie made at M.G.M. where he was the construction boss for 55 years. I dug deeper and actually found a China cup from my Wedding china still in perfect condition even though a house caved in on it.
I cried over the vintage costumes I'd collected and worn since the 1970's.  I cried and cried and cried, but when I was done crying all my treasures fit nicely into a little red shoe box.  It was all that was left of my old life.

My friends comforted me and though none of them

lost their homes, they all helped replace pictures, clothes and household goods.  Georgia too, was the only one in her group who had lost her home and she, like me, found it hard to relate to people who hadn't gone through the ordeal.

I began going to Saint Catherine's Catholic Church everyday after dropping Georgia off at school at 7:00 AM.  Than I'd head to the beach and just sit on a bench and meditate on the rocks.  People I knew walked by and talked about their fire experience and some who didn't lose their homes talked about Survivor's Guilt and how terrible it was living in a fire zone.  I'd listen to them and wish I still had my old house, my old routine, my old neighborhood, my old life.

The insurance settlement became a full time job and I worked with lawyers, interviewed builders, drew plans with the Architect, and continued gathering household items for the apartment.  My entire focus was getting my house back so Georgia and I could go home and she could finish high-school with her friends.

Gene was of no help and if anything became an adversary, wanting Georgia to come and live with him, so he didn't have to pay me child support.  I refused to let her go live with him and his girl friend.  Instead I kept moving a forward like a Tiger one step at a time.  

David, my partner, was still my right hand and carried the book while I worked with the writer that The William Morris Agency contracted for me.  Things got weird between us though, when he insisted on interviewing me before we'd finished negotiations on the movie rights.  I felt like he was taking advantage of my vulnerability... to get what he wanted.  When David held tough on the percentages, Michael, the writer, whined and complained and we began to get cold feet.  We figured he was only in the deal to make big money fast and just wanted to concentrate on my great uncle Tom Lyle, founder of the Maybelline Company's... Gay lifestyle.  

I told my dad what was going on and went off the deep end.  Dad said, he would never hurt Uncle Lyle, by making his personal life the entire crux of the Maybelline Story after all he had done for us.   Dad insisted I get out of the contract with William Morris and Michael..... forget writing the book.....and get my life back..... So once again I had to put the Maybelline Story on the back burner.

Continued next week.....