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Marilyn Monroe's unique charisma was the force that caused distant men to think that if only a well-intentioned, understanding person like me could have known her, she would have been all right. In death, it has caused women who before resented her frolicsome sexuality to join in the unspoken plea she leaves behind—the simple, noble wish to be taken seriously and soulfully. It had also caused a desperate Turk to slash his wrists after seeing How To Marry a Millionaire, caused lonely men to offer her marriage proposals a dozen times a week for the past ten years, caused doleful girls to attempt the impossible in pathetic imitations of her. Just as her life kept hopeless plans alive, her death was the trigger of suicides in half a dozen cities. Vague, troubled, shy, unsure of her beauty, unsure of her sex, she was honest, frightened, weak and baffled. All the same she was a star; it hardly matters that she never quite became an actress.