The Wedding of Mary Pickford & Douglas Fairbanks

Today, March 28th, marks the anniversary of the 1920 marriage of Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks. The "wedding of the century," as it was dubbed, took place twenty-six days after Mary's divorce from the troubled Owen Moore.

The wedding itself was a private ceremony in Los Angeles, at the home of a Baptist minister. Mary wore a gauzy white dress with apple green trim.

When the news of the marriage broke two days later it incited a fan frenzy, and the world acknowledged the popular couple as Hollywood Royalty.

Mary & Douglas setting off on their honeymoon.

According to Pickford biographer Gary Carey, "Their honeymoon was the most conspicuous in the history of marriage. They reigned at Pickfair [their Beverly Hills home] as the king and queen of Hollywood for more than a decade."

You can find out more about this famous celebrity couple in my book, Mary Pickford, Canada's Silent Siren, America's Sweetheart.

Writing the End

"I pleased my own generation. That's all that matters." (Mary Pickford.)

I've come to the end of Mary's story. This is proving to be the hardest part of the book for me to write. Mary Pickford's last years were not happy. When the age of silent films ended, and she had trouble adjusting to talkies, she tried to re-invent herself. She did some writing, turning out a couple of books, she spent some time doing radio broadcasts, and she worked tirelessly fundraising for her many charities.

But she was grieving the loss of her youth, and with it her adoring audiences. Her fans weren't interested in seeing "Little Mary" play more mature roles. She tried, but after two unsuccessful pictures, she bowed out.
 
From the first time she'd felt the love of the audience, as a tiny child on the stage at the Princess Theatre in Toronto, she knew it was something she needed. But the public wanted her to keep playing young girls, and that became impossible as the actress grew older.

If she had conquered talkies, and then been allowed to grow old in front of the camera, as her friends Lillian and Dorothy Gish had, things might have been different.

Instead, Mary retreated inside her beloved Pickfair where, starting to show signs of heart disease, she eventually she took to her bed. Her leg muscles atrophied to a point where she could no longer walk. She became a recluse, seeing only a handful of friends and family. And then there was the tragedy of her alcoholism, the old Pickford/Smith family curse.

How to write this part without excusing her excesses. A biographer must tell the truth. Mary was grieving the loss of her youth, her beauty, and the love of her life. Her husband Douglas Fairbanks Sr. had left her for a younger woman. One of her friends described the fifty-year-old Mary as extremely handsome. What woman, whose youthful beauty had been called "dazzling," would later want to be referred to as handsome?

I can't sugar-coat the truth. This is the way Mary's life ended. I am required to tell it as it was. But now I can go forward to record her legacy, all that Mary Pickford meant to the world of motion pictures, and of her philanthropic work, and I can end on a triumphant note.