She won a writing contest at 17 for her essay “God Dies” describing her search for God in a seemingly God-less world. They called her an atheist. She sold subscriptions and won a trip to Russia. So they called her a Communist. Then they stepped all over her dreams and when she broke under the weight, they locked her away.

But , in all the myths surrounding the fate of actress Frances Farmer, one thing was crystal clear…..when this beautiful, talented actress needed help the most, Hollywood turned its back on her.

Frances (on the left) and sister Edith

Frances Elena Farmer was born in Seattle , Washington on September 19, 1913 . Her father, Ernest, was a kind but ineffectual lawyer who came to Seattle from Minnesota in 1900. In sharp contrast, his wife Lillian Van Ornum Farmer was strong-willed and outspoken, a divorcee with a small child when they met and married in 1906. She pursued both feminist and anti-communist causes with a passion, doing nothing in moderation. The couple had a son and two daughters together ( Frances was the youngest) but divorced when Frances was a teenager.

Frances had her first brush with scandal when she won $100 for her high school essay. Local ministers (and even her high school teacher) called it evidence of “rampant atheism” in the public school system. At the University of Washington , where she switched from journalism to drama, Frances starred in the drama department’s presentation of “Alien Corn” prompting a local critic to predict she was “destined for the lights of Broadway” . Frances took that seriously and set out to win a trip to Russia by selling subscriptions to a leftist paper because the trip began and ended in New York . But she got in hot water with the local papers and even her mother who forbid her to go. But little Miss Farmer went anyway and when she got back, she just stayed in New York !

Posing pretty at the studio

It took Frances just a few weeks in the big city to catch the eye of a Paramount talent scout, get a screen test, sign a Paramount contract and head off to Hollywood. Apparently her notoriety from that trip to Russia didn’t hurt a bit. But she let everyone know that she was aiming for the legitimate theater. She allowed the studio to make her over, take publicity shots (even leg art) and bring in acting and voice coaches. But she refused to change her name, hang out in the local nightspots or dress up off the set. The moguls in their ivory towers were already beginning to grumble.

"Come And Get It" 1936

By the end of 1936 Frances had made four movies and married an actor. The actor was Wycliffe Anderson and even though he changed his name later to Leif Erickson (after the explorer) Lillian Farmer always referred to Frances as Mrs. F.E. Anderson in interviews. The marriage lasted one year. But Frances gained much more from the film she made on loan out to Sam Goldwyn Edna Ferber’s “Come and Get It”. Directed by Howard Hawks, Frances had dual roles as the world-weary cabaret singer and her virginal daughter. Louella Parsons declared she would be the next Greta Garbo. Ironically it was also Lolly who threw the first stone when Frances was down on her luck.

Frances and Mama in 1936

Frances made three more pictures in 1937 but none of them had much impact. She convinced the studio to give her time off to do Clifford Odet’s “Golden Boy” on Broadway. The play was a huge success and ran for 250 performances. At the same time Frances was having a torrid affair with Odets and was shocked and heartbroken when he dumped her and went back to his wife. She returned to Hollywood very close to both a physical and emotional breakdown.

...with Tyrone Power in "Son of Fury"

She made two movies in 1940 and four more in 1941…..most of them “B” pictures. In the last one, “Son of Fury” with Tyrone Power she had only a supporting role with Gene Tierney getting the lead. The doors were closing. Frances was no longer a moneymaker at Paramount and her outspoken individualism had long irritated her bosses. Even loan-outs were not forthcoming.

Frances lands in jail

On October 19, 1942 she was arrested for a minor traffic violation and charged with drunk driving and for having her lights on in a dim out zone on the Pacific Coast Highway. A shouting match ensued and Frances was dragged off to night court. It was during an arraignment scuffle that she made her famous outcry “Have you ever had a broken heart?” Soon that hit the newspapers along with pictures of her being dragged away. But her brawls and arrests soon became old news. On the advice of her family, a psychiatrist committed her to La Crescenta, a private sanitarium, for “manic depressive psychosis”. Her treatment was insulin shock therapy, later to be found dangerous and ineffective. Injections of overdoses of insulin brought about coma, convulsions, nausea and pain. Frances Farmer’s hell had just begun.

Looking for work as a fruit picker.

She was released into her mother’s care in September 1943, but 6 months later Lillian had her committed…first to Harborview Hospital in Seattle and then to Western State in Steilacoom 25 miles away. There she was given electroconvulsive shock therapy. Frances was able to get one reprieve from the hospital but was recommitted when she was picked up for vagrancy in Antioch, California while looking for work as a fruit picker. Frances didn’t set foot outside the hospital again for five years. But contrary to widely published reports. Frances Farmer never had a lobotomy.

Frances in the 1960s

Frances was released again into her mother’s custody on March 23, 1950 supposedly because she was needed at home to take care of aging and ill parents. Her full civil rights were not restored until she petitioned the Superior Court in 1953. Over the next few years she married twice (neither lasted) and she even had her own television show for awhile in Indianapolis. But the old problems still resurfaced from time to time and her endeavors eventually failed. She went to work writing her memoirs but, on August 1, 1970 Frances Farmer died of esophageal cancer just six weeks before her 57 th birthday and her memoirs were never finished. She was buried in Indianapolis with six women friends in attendance.

Frances Farmer's grave in Indianapolis