Sears, Roebuck and Co.

The Sears and Roebuck 1927 Fall/Winter catalog offered a line of hats modeled by Clara Bow.

Shulberg, then-head of Preferred Pictures, met Bow, an unsophisticated, uneducated teenager, and re-sculpted every aspect of her image. His son, Bud Schulberg, wrote, "It was as if father had picked out a well-made collie puppy and trained her to become Lassie." Bow relied on Schulberg as her mentor, father and perhaps lover. He chose her films carefully, grooming her for stardom. In The Plastic Age (1925), she played a fast-living, hard-drinking flapper, and when the public embraced that role, Schulberg capitalized on this by promoting her as "the Hottest Jazz Baby in Film."

Her natural warmth and vivacity were highlighted in roles he chose for her. He dressed her in the latest trend-setting fashions, encouraging her to remain as flamboyant offscreen as on. The press loved to write about Bow's excesses. At Schulberg's bidding, she blazed down Wilshire Blvd. in a red sports car with seven chow dogs dyed to match her hair. At other times she drove the convertible in flashy fur coats, with a monkey on her shoulder. She kept a Beverly Hills bungalow and a Malibu beach cottage.

Schulberg exploited press opportunities around the newly newsworthy flapper. During the filming of Dancing Mothers (1926), he planted the rumor that Bow was to marry co-star Donald Keith. Soon after, ex-football star Robert Savage faked a suicide attempt after Bow spurned him, and famously claimed that her kisses made his lips ache for days.

The "It" girl
Bow's fame climaxed with the release of It in 1927. The film was adapted from the novelette of the same name by Elinor Glyn, about the compelling personal allure some people have. Glyn was a British aristocrat who wrote scandalous, titillating, and very popular books about love and adultery. A genius for self-promotion, Glyn eagerly set about packaging It. According to the studio's official story, Glyn was introduced to Bow, reeled in shock, and immediately pronounced her the epitome of "It"--"an inner magic, an animal magnetism." Most sources agree, however, that in actuality Schulberg convinced Glyn, with the help of $50,000, to promote Bow sight unseen.

NARA [NRE-21-WMOKCE&L-E&L886-KC879]

Movie marquee outside the Royal Theater in Kansas City, Missouri, advertising the movie It, starring Clara Bow.

The film's story revolves around salesgirl Betty Lou Waltham, who makes up her mind to win over her store's wealthy manager. When the manager sees her at home babysitting for a friend, he jumps to the conclusion that she is an unwed mother, which causes untold problems for Betty Lou and takes many reels to rectify.

The selling of It has been called one of the most brilliant publicity campaigns in the history of the movies. Paramount first flooded the media with teaser ads asking, "What is IT?" A few weeks later, after arousing sufficient curiosity, Schulberg announced that Bow's next picture would be It. Paramount sent the exhibitors 12 pages (compared to the customary eight or 10) of promotional recommendations, photos, articles, posters and old press clips. In the press materials, Glyn wrote, "On the screen there are only a very few men who possess IT and at this moment I can pick out only one woman--Clara Bow." In one of the first instances of product placement, Cosmopolitan magazine agreed to run the original novelette in their February issue in exchange for having the magazine prominently displayed in the movie.

The film was a hit. The concept of "It" became a national catchphrase, with Bow's real-life love affair with leading man Antonio Merino enhancing stories in the fan magazines. The string of much-publicized romances that followed further intrigued the public. She broke off one engagement to accept director Victor Fleming's marriage proposal, only to renounce him for another co-star, Gary Cooper, who was promptly labeled "The It Boy." A scan through Variety in 1927 reveals stories about Bow every month, from "Dance Hall Sues Bow for Portraying Dancers Indecently;" to "Bow's Stepmother Faced with Deportation." The press also began to lambast Bow for her gambling and her "friendship" with USC football team members, the subject of many rumors. No aspect of her life was deemed un-newsworthy by the press, the public or, presumably, by the publicity department which leaked many of the stories in the first place in order to keep Bow's name in the news.

While the 1920s public found this wild reputation appealing, it outraged Hollywood society, which never opened its doors to her. Despite her apparently whirlwind social life, Bow was not welcomed into the elite social circle dominated by Mary Pickford and Pickford's husband, Douglas Fairbanks. In addition, the down-to-earth appeal that marked her early performances was ultimately sacrificed in Schulberg's efforts to glamorize her.

	Thinking Points
	How much does the public deserve to know about their favorite stars' off-screen lives? Is it wrong to provide viewers and fans with false information about a Hollywood idol, or is this a justifiable way for marketing departments to provide the public with off-screen information about their favorite stars?

At the same time that Bow's reputation grew more rowdy, Schulberg repeatedly took advantage of her ingenuousness. Her insecurity, tendency toward mental instability and general desire to have fun and not worry about the bills allowed her employers to keep her salary far lower than her fame warranted. Even Schulberg's apparently generous actions, such as improvements he made to her contract, can be seen as a calculated move to retain her confidence and dependence. Schulberg's loan-out policy, in which he contracted for Bow to make multiple films at other studios, exhausted her and reaped far more profits for him than her.

Bow's career began to show the strain. In 1926, she made 10 pictures; in 1928, only four. By 1929, Bow's insomnia allowed her very little sleep. The press, so integral to her earlier fame, now catalogued her every move. She drank too much, threw too many parties, and lost too much money gambling. Her failing mental health provoked constant "emergencies" during productions. The strain of all this, as well as her 18-hour workdays, resulted in a nervous breakdown. In addition, the public began to tire of the very roles that had made her their darling. A string of mediocre movies prompted the criticism that she was not particular enough about her parts.

Schulberg, now experiencing his own problems with alcohol and gambling, did little to help his once-protégé. Even at the height of her fame, he never offered her a salary commensurate with her position. He began to refer to her publicly as "Crisis-a-Day Bow."

The onset of sound provided the final blow to her career. Although they had earlier lauded her unaffected appeal, when her fans could finally hear her voice, her unschooled Brooklyn accent dismayed them. In 1931, Schulberg announced that Bow's contract had been terminated, at her own request, and she retreated to a sanitarium. She was then 24 years old. After a brief, unsuccessful attempt at a comeback in 1932, she spent the rest of her life in seclusion under the care of a nurse. In the end, a young woman with little self-identity was ideal fodder for the marketing machine. In Bow's case, she also fell victim to it.