From Clark Gable to Judy Garland: My Tales from Tinseltown's Golden Era

Returning to Hollywood after war  

When I came back from Korea, the studio rehired me and Mr. Strickland put me in his department and the training began. Eventually, I moved up and was assigned to work with some of the big names like Debbie Reynolds, Roger Moore, Gene Kelly, Ava Gardner and Vic Damone.

My Bronze Star must’ve impressed some people; they seemed to think I was some kind of Audie Murphy or something. It certainly gave me a bit of an edge with some of the bigger and sometimes temperamental personalities on the lot, especially the veterans like Frank Sinatra, who respected my service.

I had an immediate camaraderie with the other actors who were veterans, Gable, Robert Taylor, Jimmy Stewart and Lee Marvin.

Judy Garland’s troubles

I remember Judy Garland’s darker struggles — she attempted suicide a few times. My job, back then, was to create softer explanations for her troubles, shading the truth when I had to. Today, things are much more transparent, but back then, protecting a clients’ image was a big part of the role.

One time, she tried to slit her throat. Thankfully, she wasn’t successful and survived, but a reporter from the LA Times showed up outside her Brentwood home and asked her-then publicist how she’d tried to end her life. The guy mimicked a gesture putting his index finger at his throat, and a picture was taken. That image ended up running in papers around the world. It was a tough day for that publicist.

I wasn’t handling Judy at the time, but I did work with her later. She was the only client who ever hit me, and eventually, I had to stop representing her. Judy was nothing like the public image most people knew; she had demons, and in private, she was entirely different — like so many of the stars, really.

Mahoney (left) found Frank Sinatra (right) among one of his most memorable clients.

Courtesy Mahoney family

Nights out with Sinatra

The whole Sinatra "mob thing" was a misconception blown way out of proportion. Those guys were a lot more interested in hanging out with Frank than he was with them. Sure, they helped him out during what he called his “dark ages,” and he was loyal to them for it. But he didn’t need them; it was more about his loyalty. Sinatra went through the dark ages — those years when he’d lost his recording contract and movie deals, basically floundering. And those guys kept him employed in their nightclubs in Chicago and elsewhere That’s actually when I first met him, around the time he was with Ava Gardner and struggling to find work. He came through that time with flying colors, of course, after From Here to Eternity, but it left a mark.

When Sinatra called, though, you went out. If he wanted you there, you stayed until he decided to go home because otherwise you wouldn’t be invited back. When he walked into a room, it was like the air got sucked right out — people would just fall silent. He had this power, this presence, like almost no one else. Gable was another who could do that, but there weren’t many like them.

Navigating Hollywood’s complex ties: I listened  

People often asked me, “How did you make it so far in Hollywood?” My answer is simple: I listened. I kept my head on straight, and people trusted me. My career started as a studio publicist, then I became a newspaper columnist, where you had to play a balancing act — make a story sound juicy but never give away too much. It was a give-and-take business.

One night, I was at a club in Hollywood, writing my column for the Herald-Express, when I heard a lot of noise coming from the back. I asked the bartender what was going on, and he said, “Just a fun couple.” That “fun couple” was Gary Cooper, supposedly a happily married man, out with Anita Ekberg, who wasn’t his wife. Now, in my line of work, as a Hollywood columnist, that was gold. But I let it go.

Bob Newhart (left), Dick Martin (middle), and Jim Mahoney (right) are pictured together, one of many times on the golf course.

Courtesy Mahoney family

A couple of days later, I tracked Cooper down on a set. I told him I needed a word “privately” — a term no one in Hollywood liked to hear. When I mentioned Ekberg, you could see him panic – he went completely cold. I told him it was ok, I wasn’t writing anything; I just wanted him to know he could get into a lot of trouble being seen out with her. I even gave him a list of places to go where they wouldn’t be noticed — clubs like Ciro’s and Mocambo were out of the question. So there I was, advising Gary Cooper on where to take his affair, like I was his personal fixer. We later became good friends and golf buddies after that, and he eventually became a client. He was a good guy but, truth be told, boring as hell.

Now, Fred Astaire — he was something else, a really great guy and fun to be with. I should’ve spent more time with him, such a class act. And Roy Orbison? That guy was pure talent. Lee Marvin was a great client and friend, as was George C. Scott and Jack Lemmon. Lifelong friends and golf buddies … I miss them. My late wife Pat and I were witnesses to Marvin and his wife at their wedding in Las Vegas.

Bob Newhart was a close friend, too; I even became godfather to his kids, and he’s the godfather to a few of mine. I worked with him from his first comedy album, The Button-Down Mind of Bob Newhart, through the rest of his career, always steady, always genuine. A real pro.

Through all the Hollywood chaos, my family kept me grounded. I have five kids, and I was lucky to be there for their games, their graduations, and the small moments that mattered. They grew up in the thick of it, with all the lunacy swirling around, but we made it through. That’s what I’m proudest of.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

In Get Mahoney! A Hollywood Insider’s Memoir, Jim Mahoney reveals his experiences as Hollywood’s top publicist during its golden age, sharing behind-the-scenes stories and secrets from his 40-year career managing the images of stars.