Ed. note: This is the second part of a two-part blog on the origins of the Motion Picture Fund. Read part one here.
One of Hollywood’s saddest cases, often cited as inspiration for the hospital and fund uses, is Karl Dane.
A lanky, gawky, charming comedian, Karl was born Rasmus Karl Therkelsen Gottlieb in Denmark. The sweet, trusting man was said to have a rudimentary grasp on English -- he could speak the language well but had trouble always understanding others -- and a slight accent. He rose to fame as Slim, in the 1925 epic war film "The Big Parade" (which, though forgotten today, was so epic it was the second highest grossing silent film of all time, taking in over $64 million before 1933, when adjusted for inflation).
In fact "The Big Parade" is a good example of why we so need the Fund and hospital: By 1940, its three major stars would be dead. Gilbert from alcoholism, Adoree from tuberculosis, and Dane well...as you will see. Other parts followed for Karl Dane, including several films with Lillian Gish and his doomed "Big Parade" costars. My personal favorite would be his role as Ramadan in "Son of the Sheik" with fellow accented actors Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Banky (Valentino would not live to see the crash or talkies; Banky survived the crash and retired after two talkies). In 1927, Karl formed "Dane and Arthur" with British comedian George K. Arthur. The duo straddled the talkie switch and so was moderately successful in both mediums. But the studio was nervous about Karl's accent and mental health.
While many assumed Karl's accent did him in, Karl's biographer notes he had both mental and physical injuries that halted him from filming for several months. Dane and Arthur embarked on a wildly successful vaudeville tour, proving his accent was not holding him back. The stock market crash cleaned Dane out and he spent the early '30s trying to alternately reinvigorate his fame, and find normal work. Neither was successful. One day he was on vaudeville, the next he was a waiter. He was fired from the waiter job as his boss had hoped a "former celebrity" would bring in business. It didn't.
On April 13, 1934, Karl was pickpocketed of the last money he had to his name: $18. The next night he sat down and wrote a letter, "To Frances and all my friends-goodbye." He then took out a gun and shot himself in the head. Reportedly scrapbooks covering his successes were found near his body; though over the years they have never been found. When news of his death broke, Hollywood was stunned. While some of the crueler press mocked his fall, the majority wondered out loud how such a thing could happen.
Dane was set to be put in a pauper's grave. Instead fellow actor Jean Hersholt insisted MGM pay for his grave. MGM agreed.
