Bye, Bettie

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A lot of stories like these have been published in the past day about the passing of Bettie Page, who died Thursday evening, December 11, in Los Angeles. In the various reports I've read or heard on the radio, Bettie is packaged as some sort of bellwether of the '60s sexual revolution or an "infamous" bondage model. I am not a Bettie expert, but I do know a little about her and her contemporaries in the figure modeling profession. The obits are generally heavy on caricature and short on context.

First, Bettie did not "set the stage for the sexual revolution"; that had been under way since World War II even if it was mostly excluded from Hollywood movies and the other popular media. Second, she was really not a superstar in her day. She was a popular figure model who posed in lingerie and various stages of nudity, but only one of many, and I strongly doubt that she was ever the most popular pinup model even during her heyday --- the early and middle 1950s. At that time, the colossal sex symbols were burlesque and strip-tease superstars like Tempest Storm, Blaze Starr, and Lili St. Cyr (prononced "Sincere"), some of whom were pulling down four-figure wages per week in Las Vegas while bedding first-tier entertainers and mobsters, not to mention the occasional state governor or president. Then there was also Marilyn Monroe, who really did traipse fairly unabashed sexuality into middle class consciousness via the movie screen. And third, Bettie was certainly not the most infamous cutie to pose in fetish gear, bondage poses, or catfight vignettes --- there were plenty who specialized in that market, as advertised "back of the book" in pulpy paper in men's "cheesecake" and "adventure" magazines. But that fact is known mainly to the original purchasers of such photos and to latter-day collectors, not to corporate journalists looking for a way to sensationalize a light, campy takeout on the death of a faded sex symbol.

Photographers and publishers made carloads of money selling copies of Bettie's likeness. She was left to deal with exploitation and broken marriages, and a past of sexual abuse by her father, by herself. I've read that even though she turned to Christianity at the end of the Eisenhower era and remained devout to the end, she never disowned or even expressed shame about her modeling career. That struck me as touching, and an indication of strong character.

News media have their reasons for sensationalizing Bettie now, possibly because it allows even NPR to talk about her "endless legs, tiny waist, and beautiful bustline" --- not to mention bondage and leather --- in respectable, well modulated tones of voice. I, as an admirer of vintage figure and pinup art, have my own reasons, and here they are:

In terms of anatomy alone, during her prime time, Bettie was a force of nature. Physically, every molecule of Bettie was in exactly the right place when she posed. Strictly speaking, the molecules were the product of her genetic heritage. But I feel that what arranged those molecules so exquisitely in front of a lens was her spirit. The magic had to have been her personality. A few of Bettie's contemporaries may have rivaled her "physical plant." Lili St. Cyr comes to mind, but her molecules radiate aloofness and even arrogance. Others, such as Rose La Rose and Betty Howard, exuded terrific personalities but may have lacked certain indispensable fine points, for example, below the knees and above the ankles. Winnie Garrett, my favorite model, was a tall, "flaming redhead" who by all accounts overflowed with personality, intelligence, and genuine niceness. No red-blooded American he-man could ask for more, then or now. But even so, I must admit that Winnie was a bit exotic-looking in the direction of "school marm"; that's fine by me, but it nevertheless falls short of Bettie's unfailing appeal to almost anyone with a Y chromosome.

As in the Irving Klaw snapshot above, from my photography collection, Bettie stands alone. She was not a trailblazer or a self-promoter: she was exploited for her charm and forgotten by some of those who profited from the light that her molecules reflected and her personality radiated. I can't remember ever seeing a picture of Bettie in which she looks tired, bored, or bitter. It's as if the camera brought her to life, and she returned the favor. Bettie was stunning without even a hint of self-importance. She could clown for the camera without seeming stupid or trivial. She was supremely generous --- not to her photographer, but to her audience. Look at any picture of Bettie: you can almost hear her Tennessee accent, thick as pine tar, declaring "Sir, I am so glad to be able to share this picture with you."