Is there a picture there?” “Yeah. Maybe we could get Gable to play the preacher,” said Mathews with a laugh. “No way Clark works in a preacher picture,” Rinehart said. “That would be like Widmark doing a comedy.” Mathews grinned, shrugged. Rinehart said, “I don’t have to tell you that Clark’s got that bastard daughter with Loretta Young he won’t acknowledge or support. The kid—a girl in her teens now—doesn’t even know. Everybody else in Hollywood knows but her.” Mathews wasn’t listening. He already knew all that was known about Clark Gable. He was one of the Everybodies. But Rinehart finished the indictment anyway. “He shaves all the hair off his body. Everywhere except over his lip where that mustache is. Not just the head like Yul Brynner and I do. But off his chest, his arms—I mean everywhere. Takes four or five showers a day. He’s a clean freak, not in a league with Howard Hughes but close. He’s got false teeth. The women call him Bad Breath behind his back.”
