When Jayne Went to Ireland

Jayne Mansfield (1967)

Photo by Jane Brown

Just a couple of months before achieving immortality on US Highway 90, the American movie star Jayne Mansfield paid a visit to the town of Tralee in South-West Ireland. It was a visit which, as we shall see, caused much consternation among the clergy who were determined to prevent Miss Mansfield from performing at the Mount Brandon Hotel, thereby safeguarding the moral welfare of the good people of County Kerry ...   

Jayne had been gamely touring the UK on the clubs and pubs circuit and although she wasn't pulling in the crowds as hoped, she nevertheless continued to receive a nightly fee of £3000 - which was an extraordinary sum of money back in 1967. When the Mount Brandon Hotel offered her the chance of earning an extra £1000 for a half-hour set consisting of just six songs, Mansfield and her management team immediately agreed to the gig. News of the one-off show by the notorious blonde bombshell spread like wildfire and the 10/- tickets went like hotcakes. For if Jayne had become something of a joke figure in her homeland, in Ireland she was still a very big deal indeed.  

Unfortunately, news of her impending visit also reached the ears of John Charles McQuaid; the profoundly conservative Archbishop of Dublin and Primate of All Ireland. He immediately determined that the show must not be allowed to go on and that Miss Mansfield should be made aware in no uncertain terms that she was not welcome in the Republic.

Looking back now - and through the eyes of a non-believer - it seems a ridiculous fuss over nothing. One can't help thinking of the classic early episode of Father Ted entitled 'The Passion of Saint Tibulus' (S1/E3). For in much the same way that Bishop Brennan charges Ted with protesting the screening of a supposedly blasphemous film at the Craggy Island cinema, Archbishop McQuaid instructed the 82-year-old Bishop of Kerry, Dennis Moynihan, to ensure that Miss Mansfield did not perform in Tralee.

Although feeling rather put on the spot, the aged priest nevertheless agreed to see what he could do and local churches immediately launched a public campaign calling on all God-fearing men and women of the region to boycott the show by a woman whom they described as a goddess of lust. Rumours, however, that priests marched up and down outside the venue with placards reading down with this sort of thing and careful now are, alas, untrue.       

Whilst most people were indifferent to the whole affair, the campaign against Miss Mansfield attracted huge media attention and made headlines around the world. Subsequently, by the time she flew into Shannon Airport there were large crowds of fans, protesters and journalists waiting for her to step off the plane. As she did so, she waved and blew kisses to the crowd and informed everyone to a loud mix of cheers and boos, that the show would go on.

Unfortunately, however, the show had been booked for a Sunday night (April 23rd) and this afforded the Church the opportunity to attack Miss Mansfield straight after mass that very morning. Priests across Kerry warned their congregations to stay away and ensure the town of Tralee wasn't twinned with Babylon in the minds of the watching world. In an official statement, the show was described as a Satanic attack on decency: "If you worship Christ in the morning, you can't dance with the Devil in the evening."

Sadly, although Jayne was undeterred, the owners of the Mount Brandon Hotel lost their nerve. They initially informed her that the show would have to be cancelled because the support band had got lost en route from Dublin (in fact, the Kerry Blues were a local act who all lived in Tralee). Eventually, however, the owners of the hotel admitted that their cowardly decision to cancel at the last minute was due to clerical pressure and adverse publicity.   

To her immense credit, Jayne simply smiled - as she always smiled - and when interviewed about what had happened refused to blame anyone, insisting that the people of Tralee were sweet and had been very kind to her. Six weeks later, she was dead and the Catholic Church had yet another act of vicious and shameful stupidity on its conscience to one day apologise for, having effectively cast stones at a beautiful woman contrary to the teachings of Jesus.

Notes

To watch a rare and fascinating news segment on Jayne Mansfield's controversial trip to Ireland in April 1967, click here. The footage includes an interview with the glamorous film star. Apologies for the loss of sound in some parts.  

Anyone interested in watching the episode of Father Ted that I refer to, can find it in full on Vimeo: click here. 

It's instructive - and amusing - to compare what happened to Jayne in Ireland with what happened to the Sex Pistols in Wales a decade later; the infamous Caerphilly gig (14 Dec 1976). Click here to view a half-hour documentary about this. 

For other posts on Miss Mansfield, click here and here. 

When Jayne Met Sophia

Sophia Loren and Jayne Mansfield at Romanoff's (Beverley Hills) 

Photo by Joe Shere (April 1957)

Paramount had organized a party for me. All of cinema was there, it was incredible. And then in comes Jayne Mansfield, the last one to arrive. She came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching as she sat down. I’m staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate. In my face you can see the fear. I’m so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow—BOOM!—and spill all over the table. 

 - Sophia Loren speaking in 2014 to Entertainment Weekly

The famous photo of Italian beauty Sophia Loren checking out all-American bombshell Jayne Mansfield with a sideways glance full of snooty disapproval mixed with anger at being upstaged by the blonder, bustier woman at a Hollywood dinner party held in her honour, tells us something interesting about European notions of sex appeal, femininity and decorum in contrast to those of the New World.

But, in a sense, these two women belong not merely to different cultures, but to entirely different worlds, different times. Loren, so elegant and sophisticated, suddenly seems the product of a traditional era of slow-cooking and spaghetti. Mansfield, on the other hand, in all her spectacular obscenity, is a hypermodern incarnation of sex and speed; she lived fast and died young, whilst Sophia simply grew old.

Both left their distinctive mark on cinematic history; indeed, in 1999 Loren was awarded legendary status by the American Film Institute and she is currently the only living actress on the list. But it's Mansfield whose star continues to shine the brightest within the popular and pornographic imagination and who seems so much more our contemporary.

Indeed, one can imagine going for a drink with the always smiling former beauty queen, nude art model and popcorn seller from Pennsylvania with an IQ of 163 and an hourglass figure that measured 40-21-35 and having a really fun time. But sadly, not so with Sophia: in fact, I suspect she would subject me to the same kind of withering look over the dinner table as she gave to Miss Mansfield's dangerous bosom.        

Notes

Those interested in reading Sophia Loren's full recollection of this incident in Entertainment Weekly (Nov 3, 2014), click here. 

Those interested in a sister post to this one - When Jayne Met Anton LaVey - should click here.

When Jayne Met Anton

Mansfield and LaVey performing a Satanic ritual
Photo by Walter Fischer (1966/67)

The bizarre relationship between blonde bombshell Jayne Mansfield and bald-headed Satanist Anton LaVey was not, as some journalists liked to insist, a match made in Hell; it was, rather, a match made in Hollywood. For only in California during the sixties could such a queer romance blossom between a fame-obsessed actress whose star, sadly, was on the wane and a publicity-seeking occultist eager to attract new followers.    

Mansfield and LaVey met for the first time while she was on a drug-and-drink fuelled visit to the San Francisco Film Festival in 1966. According to some accounts, Mansfield formerly requested a meeting with LaVey; but other witnesses insist she simply showed up on his doorstep, uninvited, having been evicted from the festival by the organisers for lowering the tone of the event by wearing a revealing pink dress sans underwear.

Whatever the facts, after this initial encounter she and LaVey continued to correspond and to meet right up until Mansfield's untimely but spectacular death in the summer of the following year. This oddest of odd couples had found in each other a kindred spirit and they developed an intense and intimate relationship that set tongues wagging with excitement and heads shaking in disapproval.

And, on hand to document their relationship, was a German photographer, Walter Fischer, who had emigrated to the States ten years ealier with nothing but a 60-year-old pet parrot on his shoulder and a desire to make a name for himself as a paparazzo.

How Fischer managed to end up as the go-to guy whenever Mansfield and LaVey wanted their picture snapped, I don't know. But he was the one responsible for a fascinating series of images taken at Anton's creepy sanctuary in San Francisco known as the Black House and Jayne's lavish home in Los Angeles - complete with a heart-shaped pool - known as the Pink Palace.

Fischer was also first on the scene whenever the couple dined out in public, as seen here, for example, outside La Scala (Beverley Hills), accompanied by Sam Brody, Mansfield's divorce lawyer and official boyfriend at the time (despite the fact he was married):       

Brody was overly-protective of Mansfield and acutely jealous of LaVey, whom he mocked as a charlatan at every opportunity; something that would have fatal consequences - both for himself and Mansfield - after LaVey placed an irrevocable curse upon his head, telling him he would die a violent death within the year.

Was Jayne Mansfield, then, a practicing occultist and a devotee of the Prince of Darkness? The answer is ... probably not.

For whilst LaVey liked to tell everyone that Mansfield was a priestess in his Church of Satan, she herself confessed to being a good Catholic girl at heart. Despite this, after her death on June 29th, 1967 - killed in a car crash alongside the accursed Sam Brody - LaVey rather sweetly (or cynically, if you think he played a diabolical role in the tragic events of that day) conducted a dark memorial service.

Swedish writer, Carl Abrahamsson, provides a fitting comment with which to close: 

"As the truth [...] about their complex and ever-fascinating relationship will never be fully known, perhaps we should just be content with joyfully taking part in these larger-than-life space-time intersections and the individual legacies of these two true American icons."

See: California Infernal: Anton LaVey and Jayne Mansfield as Portrayed by Walter Fischer, with an introduction by Kenneth Anger and forewords by Carl Abrahamsson and Alf Wahlgren, (Trapart Books, 2017). 

And see also the entertaining documentary Mansfield 66/67, dir. P. David Ebersole and Todd Hughes (2017): click here to watch the trailer on Youtube. 

To read a sister post to this one - When Jayne Met Sophia Loren - please click here. 

Unravelling the Mystery of the Sweater Girls

Lana Turner as Mary Clay in They Won't Forget 

(dir. Mervyn LeRoy, 1937): the original Sweater Girl

When fondly recalling those busty beauties of the 1940s and 50s, in their tight cashmere sweaters worn over highly structured, conically shaped bullet-bras designed to lift and separate, we often think of movie stars such as Jayne Mansfield, Jane Russell, and - of course - Lana Turner (described by one critic as the most glamorous woman in the history of cinema).

But the Sweater Girl was by no means merely a figment of the Hollywood imagination.

In fact, the above actresses were merely adopting what was already a popular look amongst bobby-soxers who desired maximum projection; a youthful fashion trend viewed with alarm by those who saw aggressively pointed breasts as a sure sign of moral decline. As a concerned police chief famously asked: What kind of wives and mothers would these girls become? 

Of course, no one thought to ask at the time what kind of husbands and fathers breast fetishizing men might make; they were allowed and encouraged to indulge their culturally sanctioned mazophilia and carry on ogling young women in the streets, in the pages of pin-up magazines, and on screen.

Indeed, this all-American obsession and national pastime wasn't to peak until the autumn of 1968, when a young office worker named Francine Gottfried briefly achieved celebrity status as Wall Street's Sweater Girl ...


Click here to go to part two of this post on the strange case of Francine Gottfried.