WAS IT MARILYN?

by Dubricus

In the spring of 1996 I was working on a nationally syndicated talk show, which was made in Hollywood. At the time, in a last ditch effort to save the show, we frequently shot on location. We taped one show along Hollywood Blvd. Our headquarters was in several of the poolside rooms at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, where the first Academy Awards were held and the Munchkins were billeted during the making of the Wizard of Oz. Supposedly Marilyn Monroe's image can occasionally be seen in a mirror and Montgomery Clift plays his trumpet in the room and hallway where he stayed during the filming of Giant.

Naturally, our call was very early, we loaded in, got settled, had our breakfasts, and were joking around, as all crews do in the morning. Recently, I had been having some "spiritual" experiences involving my mother, who had passed away in 1994. With tongue in cheek, I said, "Well... if anyone runs into Marilyn, it will probably be me." Things got busy and that was the last thought given to it.

Late in the afternoon we were taping a swimsuit fashion show along the north side of the pool. I was standing in the shade of the tropical bar located in the northeast corner of the courtyard. The bar was closed... it opened only for special occasions. Directly to my left was Jane (not her real name), the make-up person, and to her left, but about two feet back was Carol (also not her name), the hair dresser.

We were watching the models strut their stuff, when suddenly a cold, musty breeze moved by us right to left (south to north). I won't say blew... it did not have that feeling. It lasted no more than a second or two, but had a definite beginning and end. Also, Jane and I felt it only on the fronts of our bodies. Carol felt nothing.

I was curious. I walked to the pool and held my hand over the water... it was not cold enough and had a chlorine odor. I looked through the bushes, walked around the entire courtyard and its balcony searching for a ventilation duct. I thought perhaps the air conditioning might have come on, but I found nothing, nor did I ever hear the sound of a motor, such as you might have from a fan or an engine. I gave up.

Upon leaving, I happened to overhear a hotel guest, a tourist, ask the concierge where the famous mirror was that sometimes showed Marilyn Monroe's image. If I recall, he replied that it was on the mezzanine. "However," he said, "she also seems to like to hang out next to the poolside bar, where she spent a lot of time when she was alive."

You could have bowled me over with a feather.