回复：【Gable Forever】#type#盖博传记介绍之〈C

太棒啦!我一直在追这本书!谢谢你的更新!也谢谢你回复我的链接!不过它们都是在评论里能看到，点进去就没有了，可能是被百度吞了，哭死

When Clark and I first started dating, it always amused him that my mother was so strict with me. Though I was going on 26 and had been married twice, she still refused to give me my own house key.
Clark would bring me home at 2:00am after some big party and stand there grinning while Mother let me in. Years later, the day after he brought me home to the ranch as his wife, Clark handed me a tiny, beautifully wrapped box. “Your first present,” he said. It was a gold door key. We both laughed, remembering.
Neither Clark nor I took the joking advice we so cheerfully gave each other during that last phone conversation—“don’t get married again.” Late in 1945, I married again. It was not a happy union, but for the sake of our two children, Bunker and Joan, we tried to make it work. After eight years, I sued for divorce. Clark’s marriage to Sylvia Ashley in December of 1949 ended in divorce.
After my divorce, I sold our large Bel Air home and bought a smaller one in Beverly Hills. I had my future all planned. I was going to keep the Beverly Hills house until the children were old enough to go away to school. I don’t recall even thinking about finding happiness—all I asked or sought was an absence of turmoil.
Meanwhile, Clark made his last picture for MGM, Betrayed. He returned to Encino to get another divorce—this one from the studio. After 24 years, Clark and MGM called it quits.

开更

A telephone call brought Clark Gable back into my life. I don’t know what prompted him to dial my number that rainy afternoon in 1954, but when I answered the phone, it seemed as if ten years had suddenly disappeared. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked casually/
Just as lightly I replied, “Maybe you’d find it cheaper to send me the money than take me to dinner. Remember the first time, you had hospital bills for the cook and rugs to be cleaned, and I ended up with china in my knee.”
Clark laughed, then said, “Well old girl, I’ll take a chance if you will.”
We made the date. It was like old times and still it was different. Clark had changed, and I had changed. We had both been matured by trouble and time. At 36 and 53, we were equally determined not to make any more mistakes.

With the exception of the periods when he was away on location, we saw each other every single day for the next year. This time, the excitement and fun were based on a solid foundation. At long last, we were deeply in love.
Often, in discussing some future project, Clark would casually say, “We’ll do this” or “We’ll do that.” But I never once asked him exactly what he meant by that word “we.”
Then, one lovely spring afternoon, Clark and I were sitting beside his pool. “Kathleen,” he said quietly, “don’t you think we’ve known each other long enough—we’ve really been in love so many years. Don’t you think we should get this little job ober with and become Mr. and Mrs.?”
I answered, “I don’t know, darling. I’ll have to think it over. Will you give me five seconds?” he said, “Yes.” And then I said, “Yes.”
We smiled at each other. “Now please propose to me again, darling.” I said. Clark reached for my hand. “Kathleen, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I repeated.

旅游回来开更啦

Clark was a man of great tenderness and understanding. The day we returned to his ranch from our honeymoon, he said, “Kathleen, you don’t have to live here if you don’t want to. We can sell the ranch and buy a house in Bel Air or Beverly Hills or wherever you choose. It doesn’t matter to me—all I want is for you to be happy.”
I looked around the comfortable room, still furnished with pieces Clark and Carole Lombard had selected many years ago. I felt no rivalry with the past. I said, “No, Pa, I want to live right here. We both love the ranch. It’s an ideal place to bring up children. Let’s not ever think of moving.”
I keyed my life entirely to his needs. In the beginning I didn’t really enjoy tramping through some damp field all day, wiggling under barbed wire fences and lugging a gun. But I believe an important part of marriage for a woman is in doing what her husband wants. So I stocked up on hunting clothes, long, warm underwear, slickers and boots, and wherever he went, I went. I learned to shoot and fish and play golf.

During all the time we were married, we got up at 5am. He was never late on the set, and he always knew his lines. Each night, he’d prepare for the next day, going over his script until he was satisfied. Some mornings, he’d still be concerned about a particular scene, so while he was dressing, I’d sit on the bed and, between yawns, cue him.
I rarely visited the set. I saw no reason why I should go to the studio. If I had been married to a banker, I wouldn’t have gone to the bank. He seldom brought home studio problems, and if he did mention something, I never offered advice.

When Bunker started attending a military school, sometimes he didn’t get home until after Clark. He’d come dashing in, hit the back of Pa’s favorite chair, make a leap for Pa’s shoulders and end up balancing on top of them.
I remember one afternoon he really smacked against the chair in executing his running leap. “Now, Bunker,” said Clark, “I have told you fifty, maybe a hundred, times I want you to stop running through the dining room and hitting the back of this chair. You’re breaking it down.”
Bunker jumped to the floor. He looked directly into Clark’s eyes and asked, “Pa, what do you want, broken furniture or a warped personality?” Clark managed to keep a straight face.
When we were first married, Clark had a glassed-in gun cabinet running the length of one wall in the library, which included a neat row of gleaming hunting knives. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have guns in view of little children,” he said one day. Even though he loved the cabinet, he promptly called in a carpenter to rip it out and replace it with bookshelves.

It didn’t take long for those new shelves to become heavy with books. Clark averaged a book a day, and his taste ranged from Thurber to Thoreau.
One day, Bunker asked Clark what a certain word meant. “Why don’t you look it up in the dictionary?” Pa replied. “Oh, that’s too much trouble, and besides, I’m not sure how to do it,” the boy said.
Clark’s voice was friendly, but firm. “No, son, you must never say it’s too much trouble to learn something. Come on, let’s go look that word up in the dictionary. I’ll show you how.”

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