The Willow Glen Resident

Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright

He Made Flappers Faint: Rudolph Valentino, shown here with Vilma Banky in 'Son of the Sheik,' was the darkly handsome, impudent hero the restless young people of the 1920s had been searching for.

Remember When

Grandpa pouted as Grandma swooned

By Cookie Curci-Wright

In an era of fast cars, flappers and bathtub gin, a restless and liberated generation searched for a hero. They found him in silent screen star Rudolph Valentino who, a decade earlier, was among the influx of poor Europeans like my grandparents who came to America.

Like most Italian immigrants arriving in New York City, Valentino found work at a number of unskilled jobs procured by his fellow countrymen--jobs that included dishwasher, waiter and New York taxi driver.

Born in Castellaneta, Italy, in 1895, he was christened Rodolfo Alfonzo Raffaelo Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di Valentina d'Antonguolla. The handsome Italian would later reinvent himself as Rudolph Valentino to become the silent screen's biggest star.

It was Valentino's dancing career that eventually led him to Hollywood, where his dark good looks and seductive glances appealed both to American-born youth and immigrants who had passed through New York's Ellis Island earlier in the decade.

Immigrants felt a special kinship with the Italian-born star, especially young Italian women of the 1920s who so adored Valentino that they christened their sons "Valentino" or "Rudolfo" in his honor.

It's been many years since I sat upon Grandma's knee listening to her reminiscences of the great Valentino.

Grandma first saw Valentino on the silent screen in 1921 when he starred in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. After that film, Grandma and every female over the age of 18 soon fell for his charms.

Valentino's personal life became a strange montage of hasty marriages, messy divorces and scandalous romances--par for the course during any Hollywood era. Valentino's flashy appearance and arrogant style earned him disfavor with the American press, who deemed him a corruptive influence on the younger generation.

It was around this time that Valentino's most memorable film, The Sheik, debuted at San Jose's downtown Hippodrome theater. Grandma insisted that Papa take her to every performance. Mom remembers how Grandma stood anxiously by the front door, impatiently calling to Grandpa. "Papa, vene, vene, presto," she'd call out. "Come, hurry up, it's time to see Rudolfo." And Grandpa would reluctantly oblige.

That was until 1922, when Valentino made a film called The Young Rajah. In this film, the impudent young star wore little more than a skimpy, bejeweled loincloth and turban. The loincloth displayed far too much of the star's anatomy to suit Papa.

"No wife of mine is going to be exposed to such scandalous behavior," he grumbled and forbade Grandma to see the film. Grandma's temper erupted, and for the next few days there would be no peace until Garndpa relented and took Grandma to see the film.

Under one condition--that Grandma cover her eyes when Valentino's bare chest appeared on the screen. Grandma agreed and watched through cupped hands, discreetly peeking through her fingers.

To capitalize on Valentino's popularity in the mid-1920s, the Ghirardelli chocolate company included a randomly placed picture of the star inside the wrappers of their candy bars. Mom recalls her daily walks as a little girl to the grocery store to purchase one of those chocolate bars for Grandma. Mom's reward was the candy, while Grandma got the wrapper. A howl of delight from Grandma meant she'd found a picture of The Sheik inside.

Papa's attitude toward Valentino softened when the actor starred with the beautiful Vilma Banky in The Son of the Sheik. Beguiled by the glamorous Banky, Grandpa took Grandma to see this movie. Unfortunately, it would be Valentino's final film.

During the 1920s, Valentino's Sheik films came to symbolize exotic Arabian nights. Ornate wall tapestries, tunics, cassocks and garish jewelry became the rage in decor and personal wear. I remember a gaudy tapestry that, for four generations, hung on Grandma's living-room wall.

Although each new generation voiced a dislike for the garish tapestry, Grandma stubbornly refused to take it down during her lifetime. I suspect it served as a reminder to Grandma of her early arrival in this country, her youth and Rudolph Valentino.

When Valentino died in 1926, at the tender age of 31, the official cause of death was a ruptured appendix. But his millions of female fans, including Grandma, refused to accept that he could have been felled by something so mundane. Instead, they chose to believe their hero had met with foul play, poisoned perhaps by a scorned lover. This theory was encouraged by a mysterious lady in black who, for 50 years, placed a bouquet of flowers on Valentino's grave.

Though Valentino earned millions during his heyday, when he died on Aug. 21, 1926, he was broke and deeply in debt.

There's an ancient belief that a man lives as long as the last person who remembers him. Few of Valentino's original fans survive today, but judging from the light that shone in Grandma's eyes each time she spoke of him, Valentino the man may be gone, but Valentino the legend will long live on.

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