I was so glad when he married Carole; it was a perfect match. She was so right for him. They both hated anything phony, they both loved life so much… It was so awful, when she was killed in that plane crash. Clark came to me that night when he learned about it.
We didn’t make love—I just held him. He was drunk, he had to get drunk, and he cried like a baby, as though his life had ended, and maybe, in a way, it had.
Joan Crawford
