Norma Shearer

Edith Norma Shearer (August 11, 1902 – June 12, 1983) was a Canadian-American actress whose film career ran from 1919 to 1942. She was known for portraying spirited, sexually independent women. She acted in adaptations of works by Noël Coward, Eugene O'Neill, and William Shakespeare. Shearer became the first performer to earn five Academy Award acting nominations, ultimately receiving six nods and winning one Oscar for Best Actress for her role in *The Divorcee* (1930). Critic Mick LaSalle described her as a feminist trailblazer, calling her "the exemplar of sophisticated modern womanhood and ... the first American film actress to make it chic and acceptable to be single and not a virgin on screen."

Shearer had Scottish, English, and Irish ancestry. She grew up in Montreal, attending Montreal High School for Girls and Westmount High School. Her early life was comfortable thanks to her father’s successful construction business, but her parents’ marriage was unhappy. Andrew Shearer struggled with manic depression and "moved like a shadow or a ghost around the house." Her mother was Edith Mary (née Fisher) Shearer. Young Norma loved music, but after seeing a vaudeville show for her ninth birthday, she decided to become an actress. Her mother supported this ambition but secretly worried that Norma’s physical flaws would hold her back. Shearer herself "had no illusions about the image I saw in the mirror." She admitted to having a "dumpy figure, with shoulders too broad, legs too sturdy, hands too blunt," and was very aware of her small eyes, which appeared crossed due to a cast in her left eye. By her own account, she was "ferociously ambitious" even as a child.

Shearer later described her childhood and adolescence as "a pleasant dream," but that ended in 1918 when her father’s company went bankrupt and her older sister Athole had her first serious mental breakdown. The family was forced into a small, gloomy house in a "modest" Montreal suburb. The sudden poverty only strengthened Shearer’s determination: "At an early age, I formed a philosophy about failure. Perhaps an endeavor, like my father's business, could fail, but that didn't mean Father had failed."

Her mother saw things differently. Within weeks, Edith left her husband and moved with her two daughters into a cheap boarding house. A few months later, encouraged by her brother—who thought his niece should try her luck in "the picture business," then mostly based on the U.S. East Coast—Edith sold Norma’s piano and the family dog. She carried a letter of introduction for Norma, obtained from a local theatre owner, to Florenz Ziegfeld, who was preparing a new season of the Ziegfeld Follies.

In January 1920, the three Shearer women arrived in New York, all dressed up. "I had my hair in little curls," Shearer recalled, "and I felt very ambitious and proud." But her spirits sank when she saw their rented apartment: "There was one double bed, a cot with no mattress and a stove with one gas jet. The communal bathroom was at the end of a long, dimly lit hallway. Athole and I took turns sleeping with mother in the bed, but sleep was impossible anyway—the elevated trains rattled right past our window every few minutes."

The meeting with Ziegfeld was a disaster. He rejected her outright, reportedly calling her a "dog" and criticizing her crossed eyes and stubby legs. She kept trying, undeterred. "I learned that Universal Pictures was looking for eight pretty girls to serve as extras. Athole and I showed up and found 50 girls ahead of us. An assistant casting director walked up and down looking us over. He passed up the first three and picked the fourth. The fifth and sixth were unattractive, but the seventh would do, and so on, down the line until seven had been selected—and he was still some ten feet ahead of us. I did some quick thinking. I coughed loudly, and when the man looked in the direction of the cough, I stood on my tiptoes and smiled right at him. Recognizing the awkward ruse to which I'd resorted, he laughed openly and walked over to me and said, 'You win, Sis. You're Number Eight.'"

More extra roles followed, including one in *Way Down East*, directed by D. W. Griffith. During a break, Shearer stood near a powerful arc light and introduced herself to Griffith, sharing her hopes for stardom. "The Master looked down at me, studied my upturned face in the glare of the arc, and shook his eagle head. Eyes no good, he said. A cast in one and far too blue; blue eyes always looked blank in close-up. You'll never make it, he declared, and turned solemnly away."

Still not giving up, Shearer spent some of her savings on a consultation with Dr. William Bates about her strabismus. He gave her muscle-strengthening exercises that, after years of daily practice, allowed her to hide the cast for long periods on screen. She spent hours in front of a mirror, exercising her eyes and practicing poses to minimize the flaws Ziegfeld and Griffith had pointed out. At night, she sat in Broadway theatre galleries, studying the entrances of actresses like Ina Claire, Lynn Fontanne, and Katharine Cornell.

Desperate for money, Shearer turned to modeling, which went well. She said of that work: "I could smile at a cake of laundry soap as if it were dinner at the Ritz. I posed with a strand of imitation pearls. I posed in dust-cap and house dress with a famous mop, for dental paste and for soft drink, holding my mouth in a whistling pose until it all but froze that way." She became the new model for Kelly-Springfield Tires, earning the title "Miss Lotta Miles" and appearing in advertisements seated.