Memories of Bette Pearce

Your mother was the dearest friend I had. While I said she was like a mother to me, I believe it would be more like a sister. I could talk to her about anything and she would be painfully honest, which is what I usually needed. She was the only person (other than a family doctor) to make me feel special and courageous for having escaped with my sanity from a cruel and abusive childhood in Texas. She thought more of me than I ever thought of myself.
I know that I could talk about her for days, but to put it down on paper is the most difficult thing I have ever done. There are just no words or phrases that can describe her or do her justice. I always seemed to see a different "Bette" than a lot of people did.
My feelings are easily hurt, but I rarely took offense at her outspoken opinions or open criticism. It always seemed she had my best interest at heart. On a few occasions, more recently, she did managed to insult me, but I soon learned she was having trouble at times remembering. I never told her how dear she was to me, thinking she wouldn't want to hear "such mush." I wish, now, that I had told her anyway.
A day doesn't go by that I don't think, "Gee, I'll have to remember to tell Bette about this or that" only to realize that I no longer can. It makes me so sad that she is gone, but so very happy that I was privileged to have been one of her friends.
We didn't always agree, but that's okay, too!!

Bette - Our 50-Year Friendship

As Cher said of Sonny about being the Most Unforgettable Character she'd ever met: well, Bette was that to me - my most unforgettable character. I do regret, though, that she never won the Readers Digest Sweepstakes although she told us ALL it was hers! Remember?
Our friendship had a golden anniversary - 50 years of laughter about every single event happening in our lives - which we related to each other in depth. Nothing was too sad or unhappy or morbid to Bette - she could see the "hilarious" or "ridiculous" side to any situation with just a small comment and we would be off and running for the kleenex box. I was her own personal welcome wagon to any of her out-of-town visitors and she told me I deserved a banner across my chest saying "Welcome to L.A."
Humor came easily to Bette - it's a family thing.
We first met in the late 1940s in the parking lot of a record store on the corner of Sunset and Vine waiting for the Red Cross Station Wagon to the V.A. Hospital Volunteer Unit. Bette often commented about that meeting - it seems she decided within 10 minutes that I was a person she wanted to know. What a privilege knowing she felt that way all these years.
Who knows what makes two people "click" but click we did. The next several years we met almost daily either for coffee at a drive-in or joining the locals at the Cafe de Paris on Sunset Boulevard. We knew more about each other than our parents ever knew of us - and certainly were closer than sisters. To Bette, I was Mimi II.
As time went by there were moves and marriages and circumstances but we always kept in touch. The last time I talked with Bette was just a couple of weeks or so before her death. She was anticipating the Oregon move and made many statements of "bless Mike's heart" for all he was doing for her. She was very proud of her son. When we talked that last time, we both said in spite of her moving to Oregon we would probably talk more just because it's more than 65 miles! Silly? Yes - our reasoning didn't always make sense.
But now, my phone will not ring at 10, or 11 o'clock of an evening with a voice that says "It is "I." I'll miss you, my friend. I'm ever so glad we met.

Will and Nell Wright
When I met Bette in the late 1940s I met Bill and Nell. Bette let all her friends know right away that she referred to her dad as "Dude." That was her special name for him. To the rest of us, he was "Bill."
Both Bill and Nell were so full of wit and charm. Bill would tell stories with that wonderful deep resonant quality, with the ever-present cigar used to make a point. Nell was somewhat quieter but her humor was ever present. Most of Bette's friends wanted to just "hang out" around Nell and listen to her funny descriptions and how she loved silliness. Their wit and humor were a legacy for Bette. Later years, Bette often commented that their marriage was truly made in heaven.
Bette once told me she was ill a lot in younger years when they were living in New York and spent a lot of time in bed. Her love of reading came from Bill and Nell; they were all avid readers. Nell's room was stacked with magazines, books, reading of every kind. Bette would say the three of them were completely compatible.
(Note from Michael - I inherited this from them. It was Mom who first got me interested in science fiction, and I read like a fiend to this day.)
All three were night people. Bill worked on his craft late night memorizing scripts in one room. Nell would be reading in another and Bette reading in another room (if she wasn't on the telephone).
When I was working on a show at CBS I made the statement to Nell that even working with the "stars" I felt star struck. With a smile she replied, "Never lose that. Why, after all these years, I still love to see the stars!"
Many fun and social times Bill and Nell invited me to be with them and Bette. I remember picnics in Malibu, nights at the Shriners' convention. One year Bill decided he would host the celebration of his daughter's birthday with a dinner for us at Chasen's. They were generous people in so many ways.
And who could think of them without mentioning the cats. They were very pampered pets!
I remember Nell's view of small things as well as things in general for her comment was always, "I don't know where it's all going to lead." Later Bette would embroider a pillow (now a framed wall hanging) with that statement. It was a comment handed down to us, for our conversations just the past few years would often end with, "I just don't know where it's all going to lead."

Donna Mac Bride

Your mother had the wit, intelligence and point of view of a 1 of a kind, perhaps the original! This obviously provided you with mental stimulation and freedom to challenge authority and anyone else with the interesting comments and information that you've acquired. When I think of her, I think of the laugh, great smile and immediate presence in all conversations, listening intently, questioning and giving it right back to you! No passive communicator for sure.
I was greatful to her occupational guidance when at 21 my mother referred me to her for contacts in L.A. for advertising. She communicated clearly and insightfully in all things, and even if it wasn't "safe ground" she went for it full out and one has to admire that immensely.
I'm so glad our mothers reconciled some difference in the last year so they could keep in touch as those calls were primarily each others' support in the last 10 years or more. She was very proud of you.

Hank Kovell
Robert C. Vinson

When I remember Bette Pearce, I smile, remembering her smile.
Oh, she could be grumpy if you called her too early in the morning or if you interrupted one of her soap operas. And if she called you, you knew that the next thirty minutes were booked.
Conversation flowed like lines in a script, with a page for her, then a paragraph for you. Or maybe just a word.
I met Bette fifty-two years ago on Ladies Night at the Masquer's Club in Hollywood, a males-only membership club to which her father, actor Will Wright, belonged.
She smiled, and I smiled. We had lots of laughs together over the half-century of friendship.
She had a wonderful sense of humor. In the nicest sense, she was a party girl. In our younger days, we often played charades at home parties, and she was good. We had song fests around the piano at the Masquers, and as a singer she was... enthusiastic.
As I write this, I am remembering Bette. And smiling.

Jane Axup

(Jane is Mom's cousin, daughter of Dette and Cyp. Dette is Nell Wright's sister.)
Bette spent much of her early years at the old ranch in Vandera, between Fairfield and Vacaville. As I understand it, Aunt Nell and Uncle Bill sort of moved around and she would be with our grandparent. After my parents were married she was with them a lot.

The story goes that when my parents were being married she sat through the whole ceremony running a toy egg beater.
My earliest memories were when I was about five or six, making her about nine or ten, when she would come to the ranch and spend the summer. We were out in the "middle of nowhere" and about that time our love of cats materialized. We would take boxes and make cat hotels. All ranches have lots of cats and kittens so we had many customers. Some even moved their kits into the hotels.
Those were great summer days. Very hot, but nice evenings. One hot day my mother did something to displease Bette. She decided we should run away. It was very hot, probably about 105. We were barefooted and started off. It was too hot for my feet so I went back for my shoes. Bette kept going on the hot ground. Of course my going back alerted my mother and we were caught. Bette's feet were blistered and Mom had to pack her back. She spent the afternoon with her feet in cold water. I don't think Bette ever forgave me for going back for my shoes.
When we were about ten and fifteen we would climb a hill behind the house and spend hours just enjoying the cooler early evening and the great smell of dry grass, sort of dreaming about our futures. I always wanted her to come north and we would climb that hill again, but we never did.
My dad taught her to shoot a .22 rifle. She was pretty good. We used tin cans as targets.
When we were about five and ten we played dress-up a lot. We did not use real clothes, just our imaginations of the glamorous clothes we wore to our dates. Hollywood stars had a lot of influence on us. We both pretended we had long blond hair down to our waists. About this time we started calling each other May and Mary, which carried through the rest of our lives. Oh, how I miss May!
I was a sickly kid and Bette would send me paper dolls she had drawn. These dolls had cat faces and tails. They were very glamorous (the Hollywood influence) with beautiful evening gowns. I still have some of them at the ranch.

We had this big romance with our teddy bears. She told me she still had Cuddles. I am not too sure where my Fuzzy is.
The coming of the war and marriage stopped our being together but May and Mary still corresponded. After Mom, Dad and Aunt Nell were gone we did more writing and remembering.
The last time I talked to her we talked about the great drinking water at the Vanden ranch. Also the wonderful summer suppers we had of home-grown vegetables, especially corn and tomatoes. Also hamburgers.
I will write more memories as I think of them, to help you better understand the lives of two young, naive people in the '30s and '40s.

Eleanor "Brownie" Denton

It wasn't until our friends Will and Nell Wright had passed away that Bette and I became telephone friends. We both enjoyed reminiscing about the shennegans of Will and my husband Crahan, also an actor, for the amusement of the neighbors; about Nell and her possessive attitude towards her beloved roses, and about our various dog and cat friends. Bette was ever the optimist and always saw the humorous side of things. I will miss her as a link to happy times.

Doug Brown

Your letter received telling me of your mother's death was such a shock. We always were good friends and although we didn't see each other, we did talk on the phone at times. I admired her sense of humor and it was fun being with her when we both worked at Columbia. I know she'll be missed by all who knew her.

Maria D. Graham

My husband and I came to live next door to your Mom in December 1986. I don't remember when we became friends but probably one of our first topics of conversation was the apple tree in front of her door which was blooming and so she invited me to have some hand picked apples when they would grow. Of course I accepted and from then on we sat for about half an hour at a time talking about many subjects: plants, flowers, neighbors, Will Wright, current events and tv programs, poetry, jobs, and even politics.
Regarding flowers, she used to love the gardenias you gave her. Also she used to like the yellow hibiscus. Last year she bought an expensive pot of live yellow hibiscus and they died soon after transplanting them into her back yard. Afterwards I got her two prunings to see if they would stick and grow up but, no luck either. One day I found an audio cassette of a spanish song about two gardenias and gave it to her and she gave me a few real gardenias.
Anna, our Armenian neighbor, told me that she will remember her from spending a few pleasant times drinking a cup of coffee together.
I used to admire your Mom for her beautiful and strong appearance and her independence.

If you have your own memories, please write them and mail them to me to be included in these pages. A picture of you and Mom together would be especially welcome. My email is mp at moonmac dot com (address converted to English to fool the spam 'bots) and my postal address is PO Box 1293, Portland, OR 97207.

Michael

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