According to his daughter, Jennifer Grant, because it made women want to prove the rumors wrong.
That’s her story, and I’m sticking with it.
In 1932, Cary Grant moved into what became known as the Bachelor Hall with Randolph Scott. As such, the rumors swirled as to sexuality of the two Hollywood icons and evidence to this day is conclusive from both sides of the argument.
In other words, who knows, but what I find interesting is the famous pool scene in My Favorite Wife. Grant has just learned his recently rescued wife was not stranded alone on an Island for five years, and just his luck, she occupied the desertion with Grant’s real life, highly virulent roommate.
Flexing his pipes as he’s readying to dismount from the diving board, Scott can’t escape the attention of the jealous and long lost husband. Tugging at his signature tie and sweating under the collar at the notion of his wife spending all that secluded time with such a specimen, Grant conveys horror to comedic perfection.
Of course, the opportunity to read between the lines was seems abundantly intended. One might sweat in such a manner if the onlooker was attracted to the dressed down stud on the diving board, and the duo obviously embraced the implication.
Certainly aware of the rumors, how cool were they to snub their noses at their bosses and society for making moral judgments on other people’s lives. And if they were actually gay, this is flat out bravery to risk their very livelihoods when only whispers could kill a career.
Nonetheless, my Neanderthalic narrative has Cary Grant as the ultimate dude to explain all this away. Suiting up in tuxedo form on a nightly basis, just picture Grant and Scott working in tandem or going solo – the ladies didn’t stand a chance. And if the for some unfathomable reason the odds didn’t shake out, why not play the gay card.
Man, I wish I had thought of this. Of course, I am a little lacking the Cary Grant department
Yeah and who isn’t, but the evening’s festivities coming to an end the next morning, is Cary Grant supposed to stick around and cuddle.
Come on. He gets back with Scott, they detail the specifics—embellishing if necessary—and ratchet it up on the scoreboard. Then, it’s off to the mansion’s tennis courts and martinis by the pool.
How is that anything but extreme masculinity—especially when the alternative is going shopping or being hounded into cleaning the garage by some encumbering starlet.
Of course, feel free to stick with your own storyline of the coolest movie star whoever lived.
Originally Posted on Rich Monetti
Photo: Getty Images