Whenever I am interviewed about Elvis Presley and the phenomenon that surrounds him 30 years after his death, the reporter or writer will often ask, “No other pop culture figure has attracted the level of devotion that Elvis has. How do you account for that?” And, then I quietly correct him, “Well, there was Valentino.”

Though Valentino’s star has dimmed for new generations of film fans, he was the object of intense adoration decades after his death. No doubt genuine on the part of his fans, this dedication was fueled and exploited by those who had a proprietary interest in his lasting legacy—not unlike the situation today between the Presley estate and Elvis, particularly after American Idol-owner Robert Silverman purchased controlling interest in all the King’s things.

Layers of myth and legend envelop Valentino, masking his true talents as a silent-screen actor and his contributions to Hollywood—again something he shares in common with Elvis. Yet, the myths, stories, and outrageous claims help maintain an interest in him, particularly because few watch his movies, which—like all silents—are not on the public’s movie-going radar. I thought I knew a lot about Valentino simply because I had heard the myths and stories, but when I had the occasion to investigate his life and death, I found that I didn’t know much at all—and I wonder if many film fans really do.

THE SON OF THE SHEIK

I have been fortunate enough to see three Valentino films on the big screen complete with music and sound effects, because the wonderful Silent Film Society of Chicago occasionally screens a Valentino flick in their summer series. I have seen The Son of the Sheik (1926), The Eagle (1925), and Cobra (1925). They all share in common what I think Valentino was all about – a sense of fantasy that is such pure escapism that the viewer is lifted out of his world and into Valentino’s. Even Cobra, which was predominantly set in New York City in the present, created an ambience of fevered exoticism that was not part of the recognizable world. The narratives of the films freely mixed together bits and pieces of different geographic locales, cultural styles, and eras of history in order to exploit a sense of the exotic—and erotic. Valentino’s films take place in a kind of Neverland for adults where the only part of life that matters is sex and romance.

The Eagle has turned out to be my favorite of the three, partly because it was directed by Clarence Brown. Brown, who went on to have an amazingly eclectic directorial career, delivered a nicely paced, action-packed story. The cinematography by the great George Barnes is downright poetic at times, and the film’s famous banquet scene features an amazing tracking shot that rivals those of the Germans in the 1920s. However, my favorite part of The Eagle is the way the filmmakers played havoc with historical time frames and cultural imagery. Valentino plays Vladimir Dubrovsky, a Cossack who at the beginning of the film serves in Catherine the Great’s army and has become her special favorite at court. The opening sequence shows a handsome Dubrovksy galloping into court on his magnificent steed and then strutting around in his Cossack-inspired military attire, inspecting his troops. Dubrovsky seems to be always in knee-high boots, capes and long coats that emphasize his chest, and a tall Russian-style hat, vaguely suggesting the distant past. He visits Catherine, who clearly has more in mind for him than inspecting the troops, and he offends her by spurning her advances. Catherine, played by an imposing Louise Dresser, banishes Dubrovsky from court. From the costumes and set design, as well as the fact that everyone is on horseback and one of the characters is Catherine the Great, I assumed the film was set in the distant past, several centuries ago. So, imagine my surprise when Dubrovsky exits the grounds of the castle in a luxurious white automobile! Obviously, fidelity to an authentic time and place was not important to the filmmakers, though I doubt if Valentino’s fans cared.

VALENTINO AND HIS VAGUELY RUSSIAN-COSSOCK-GYPSY-SHEIK-LIKE COSTUME IN 'THE EAGLE'

Valentino’s films are the most obvious of romantic melodramas, and the acting style is broad and expressive, even for silent films, which is definitely out of vogue for contemporary audiences. Despite the time-bound nature of the genre and acting style, Valentino is magnetic onscreen, making him a timeless icon of sexuality. There’s an energy and verve to his performances that make his costars forgettable. His charisma transcends the corny exaggerated eye gestures and nostril flaring associated with his star image. And, his magnetism is apparent without benefit of his voice. Valentino died a year before The Jazz Singer issued in talkies, forever relegating  silent films to a distant past. It occurred to me that I have never heard his voice.

Valentino’s star image resonated romance, seduction, and sexual excitement, which is a woman’s interpretation of masculinity. So, it’s not surprising that his sudden death in New York City on August 23, 1926, at the age of 31 shocked and upset female fans of all ages. While in the city to promote The Son of the Shiek, Valentino had become ill and was hospitalized. He died of peritonitis and a ruptured ulcer, complicated by septic pneumonia and septic endocarditis.

Upon learning of Valentino’s illness, female fans kept vigil around the hospital which provided fodder for newspapers around the country. But, shortly after he died, the public outpouring of grief was so overwrought that it made headlines. Police had to cordon off the hospital to keep the ever-growing throngs of female fans at bay. It was reported that at least two women attempted suicide outside the hospital, while in London actress Peggy Scott spread dozens of photos of Valentino around her, drank poison, and died while gazing at the actor’s photographs.

Valentino’s body was transferred to the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home in New York City, where an estimated 80,000 to 100,000 people passed through his open-casket viewing. Actress Pola Negri, who worked hard to be as exotic as Valentino, claimed that she was engaged to the Latin Lover. Apparently she felt this was sufficient reason to make a spectacle of herself by throwing her body across his coffin during the public viewing. To further prove her love, she sent a floral arrangement that included 4,000 roses. Valentino fans rejected her demonstrative display of affection and accused her of putting on an act for the sake of publicity, and they turned on her. Her career never fully recovered, though it took several odd twists and turns. [Oddly, one of her last roles was in one of my favorite Disney movies from childhood, The Moonspinners, starring Hayley Mills.]

Valentino’s body was transported to Hollywood by rail, and thousands of people watched the funeral train as it passed by. An anguished Negri accompanied the body across the country. An invitation-only service was held at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Los Angeles, while a crowd estimated at 7,000 showed up at Hollywood Memorial Park, where the actor was entombed. Bushels of flowers were dropped from an airplane as his casket was carried to his crypt in the Cathedral Mausoleum.

Valentino’s burial there was supposed to be temporary while an elaborate mausoleum was constructed, complete with life-size statues of Valentino in his most famous movie roles. However, the Valentino estate simply didn’t have the funds for such a memorial, and his resting place in the Cathedral Mausoleum became permanent. His close friend June Mathis allowed his body to be stored in a crypt she had reserved for herself, but when she died unexpectedly a year later, Valentino’s remains were moved next to hers in the space designated for Mathis’s former husband. Valentino’s remains are still there today.

The theatrics surrounding Valentino’s death didn’t end after his burial. In 1931, a woman dressed in black, with her face hidden behind a heavy veil, brought roses to the actor’s grave. While the press followed her every move, she did not speak nor did she reveal her identity. The following year, she returned, beginning a tradition of veiled Ladies in Black that continued for decades. Rumors spread through the newspapers and fanzines regarding her identity. Was she a former lover? A dedicated fan? An adult woman who had once been visited by Valentino when she was a gravely ill girl?

Alas, the truth turned out to be a lot more complicated. In fact, there have been multiple Ladies in Black, some of them plants by Paramount Pictures to continue Valentino’s legend long after his death. The year 1939 was a peak for the phenomenon, because three Ladies in Black bumped into each other at the Cathedral Mausoleum at Hollywood Memorial Cemetery. I wonder if they took shifts.

ONE OF THE MANY LADIES IN BLACK IN WHAT IS PROBABLY A STAGED PHOTOGRAPH

The original Lady in Black turned out to be Ditra Helena Medford, a former vaudeville performer who called herself Ditra Flame. Ditra came forward in 1947 and confessed to being the first Lady in Black; she later claimed to have been the little girl visited on her sickbed by Valentino. Flame stopped coming to the cemetery on the anniversary of Valentino’s death for a short while, but she returned in the 1970s without the long black veil. She decided that the press had been sensationalizing the event too much and that’s why she opted for street clothing.

In 1940, a former Ziegfeld girl named Marian E.Watson, also known as Marion Benda, gained notoriety when she announced that she was the Lady in Black. Sadly, Ms. Watson seemed mentally unstable as she spun an outrageous tale of her secret engagement or secret marriage to Valentino. In one version of her story, she actually married the Latin Lover in secret; in another, he had proposed to her the night before he was hospitalized. She also claimed that she had two children by him, though she was certainly not the first to insist that she had been impregnated by Valentino.

Apparently, Paramount Pictures hired their own Ladies in Black beginning in the late 1930s, which took some of the romance out of the story for me. Press agent Russell Birdwell hired a woman to be the Lady in Black on the 12th anniversary of Valentino’s death to coincide with the re-release of The Sheik. To exploit the phenomenon further, Paramount’s publicity department issued a press booklet to theater owners encouraging them to hire their own Ladies in Black for various publicity stunts. They urged, “For this stunt, hire a woman dressed entirely in black mourning, complete with veil, and have her visit the local newspapers. . . and ask permission to go through their files for stories and pictures of Valentino. Instruct her to be as mysterious as possible.”

In 2002, a new Lady in Black emerged, film historian Karie Bible, though her devotion is more to the legacy of cinema than to Valentino himself. The Lady in Black phenomenon is so extensive that an entire book has been written about it, titled Valentino Forever: The History of the Valentino Memorial Services by Tracy Terhune.

Movie stars, especially those who have become icons, continue to fascinate me. While I am interested in their true life stories, I am also in awe of the lore and legend that is often spun around them, which sometimes obscures the very talent that made them famous to begin with. I have decided to further investigate Rudolph Valentino’s career and stardom, and if anyone has a biography or career analysis to recommend, please leave me a note. Any star who still inspires women to dress up and leave roses in the vases at his crypt over 80 years after his death has earned my attention. . . and affection.