In the 1950s, Jayne Mansfield became famous in Hollywood. Her daughter, Mariska Hargitay, was just three years old when Jayne had a fatal car accident in 1967, and Mariska was in the car too.
Luckily, Mariska survived and is doing well. She’s now a famous actor in today’s time. She looks a lot like her mom!
Becoming a Hollywood star usually takes a lot of hard work over many years. Most famous people would say it’s worth it in the end,
In under ten years, Jayne Mansfield became a huge star, mainly because of her roles in popular movies. She was a famous and attractive figure in the 1950s and 1960s.
Sometimes people called her “the poor man’s Marilyn Monroe” because she got similar kinds of roles, often playing a character seen as not very smart. But in reality, she was different from those characters.
Sadly, Jayne Mansfield died in a car accident in 1967, leaving behind five kids. Today, her children are working hard to keep her memory alive.
This is the story of the lively life of Jayne Mansfield and her daughter Mariska Hargitay, who looks a lot like her mom.
Jayne Mansfield had a life that was both glamorous and sad.
In the beginning, when she was known as Vera Jayne Palmer and born on April 19, 1933, in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, she experienced the artistic side of life. Her dad, Herbert, who was a musician, taught her to sing and play the violin when she was a little kid.
But when Jayne was only three, her father passed away from a heart attack while they were traveling. This left her mom, Vera, who used to be a schoolteacher, alone with Jayne. Her mom had to go back to work to support the family.
She said, “Something went out of my life. My earliest memories are the best. I always try to remember the good times when Daddy was alive.”
In 1939, Jayne’s mom got married again, and the family moved to Dallas, Texas. At the same time, Jayne dreamed of becoming a Hollywood star. She loved watching Judy Garland’s movies and even dressed like her, hoping t
Jayne Mansfield didn’t finish high school before she met her first husband. She married Paul Mansfield when she was very young, just 20 years old, in 1950. They went to Southern Methodist University together to study acting, and a year later, Jayne had their first daughter, Jayne Marie Mansfield.
She entered a Miss California competition after taking a course at UCLA in Los Angeles, but she decided to leave. The family then chose to go to the University of Texas in Austin, where Jayne acted in several plays.
Even though it was fun, Jayne still wanted to go to Hollywood. So, in 1954, she moved to Los Angeles with her family.
Getting into the acting business is not easy for anyone. When Jayne started modeling, her curvy figure became a problem. Casting directors thought she was too attractive and seductive for commercials or advertisements. She even got cut out of her very first ad, which was for General Electric.
Jayne really wanted to be in movies, and she finally got a chance. She tried out for Paramount and Warner Brothers, but they didn’t choose her.
However, something important happened when she auditioned for Paramount. The person in charge of casting, Milton Lewis, told her something that changed how she saw herself.
“I had been to three different universities and two or three dramatic schools before I went to Hollywood, preparing myself for my hoped career as an actress. I did a soliloquy for Joan of Arc for Milton Lewis, who was head of casting at Paramount Studios to audition. And he seemed to think I was wasting my ‘obvious talents.’ He lightened my hair and tightened my dresses, and this is the result.”
Jayne Mansfield wanted to be as famous as Marilyn Monroe, who was the biggest Hollywood star at that time. But while her Hollywood career was starting, her husband Paul had enough and they got divorced in 1955. Their daughter stayed with Jayne in Los Angeles.
Jayne’s career finally took off when she got a role in a low-budget film called Female Jungle in 1955, which got her a lot of attention. In the same year, she was named “Playmate of the Month” and appeared on the cover of Playboy Magazine.
Her new style – the pinup, provocative blonde bombshell – was supposed to cement her status as the new Marilyn Monroe, and in a way, she definitely succeeded. Pink proved to be her color, with Jayne even buying a pink Cadillac to drive.
Studios wanted more of her and soon she was signed. Fox began to market her as the “Marilyn Monroe King-Size,” and her success grew. By that point she wasn’t just an actress; she was a sex symbol of the 1950s.
One journalist even claimed: “She suffered so many on-stage strap and zipper mishaps that nudity was, for her, a professional hazard.”
Jayne gained even more attention following her appearance in Fox’s 1957 comedy blockbuster Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?. That same year, she received a Golden Globe Award for Most Promising Newcomer – Female. The following year, she starred alongside Kenneth More in the Western The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw (1958).
Jayne scored several other – for the time being – provocative roles, including The Burglar (1957) and Too Hot to Handle (1960). Sadly, however, she was labelled “The Poor Man’s Marilyn Monroe”.
At that time, Mansfield had gotten married to second-husband, actor and bodybuilder Mickey Hargitay. They tied the knot in 1958, at a press-filled ceremony in Rancho Palos Verdes, California. Before long, the family was growing. In 1959, they welcomed son Mickey Hargitay, and two more children followed. Son Zoltan Hargitay was born in 1960, and daughter Mariska Magdolna Hargitay was welcomed in 1964.
Following her performance in Too Hot to Handle, Jayne went into her first legal battle regarding film censorship. The release date of the film was delayed because of her appearing nude in what was at the time considered a scandalous dress.
A couple of years later, she got into another battle regarding the same thing. Her film Promises! Promises! (1963) sparked a huge talking point when Mansfield became the first American Hollywood movie star to appear nude on screen. The scene was considered to be way too explicit, leading to censoring and, in some cases, it being banned across the world.
By this point, Mansfield was a huge Hollywood star, with an image that at the time was considered to be “owned by the public.”
It was something she enjoyed and thought was mandatory.
”Actually, I feel that a star own it to her public, to bring the public into her life,” she said in 1960.
“The fans feel that they kind of own you and if you kept your life a complete secret it wouldn’t be fair to them. But my private life, and when I say private life, is always very private.”
As quick as Jayne had risen to fame, her career also began to fail. She was dropped from 20th Century Fox in 1962, and instead went on to appear in several TV programs and game shows. Instead of just focusing on Hollywood, Mansfield decided to go International in the 1960s, starring in several German, Italian and British films. She began also appearing onstage at nightclubs, touring both in the US and in the UK.
In 1967, a tour was put together by Don Arden, the legendary music manager, as well as father of Sharon Osbourne. One week, she was performing in the town of Batley.
Her Hollywood glamour sure did something to the people there.
“My dad thought that all these not-so-glamorous ladies would show up at Batley with their hair rollers and headscarves,” explained Neil Sean, an entertainment reporter for NBC News. “But as the week went on, they became more and more glamorous, showing up with their hair done and lipstick.”
At that point, Jayne Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay had gotten divorced, and she married director Matt Cimber. They had her fifth child, Anthony Cimber, in 1965, but they divorced the same year.
The UK tour was the last one Jayne Mansfield did. On the way from a nightclub in Mississippi to New Orleans, she got into a car accident and died at the age of 34. The accident also took the lives of her then-boyfriend Sam Brody and their driver. She was buried next to her father in Fairview Cemetery in Pennsylvania.
In the car were three of her children, who were sleeping in the backseat and thankfully were not hurt. Mariska Hargitay, who was just three years old at the time, went to live with her father, Mickey Hargitay.
So, what happened to Mariska? Well, she followed her mother into acting, and she looks a lot like her!
“Losing my mother at such an early age is the scar of my soul,” she told Redbook in 2009.
“But I feel like it ultimately made me into the person I am today. I understand the journey of life. I had to go through what I did to be here.”
Mariska decided to study theater at UCLA in California. In 1984, she made her film debut in Ghoulies. She spent the 1980s performing in several TV series in order to pursue a career on the bigger stage. But, unlike her mother, she didn’t change her name or the color of her hair. People advised her to change her name and appearance, and even copy her mother’s sexy image. At one point, she turned down doing a nude scene in the movie Jocks (1986).
Being the daughter of a Hollywood icon hasn’t been easy. And sometimes, it even has been a burden for Mariska.
“I used to hate constant references to my mom because I wanted to be known for myself,” she told Closer. “Losing my mother at such a young age is the scar of my soul.”
Before Mariska got her big role, she had been acting for 15 years. She started playing Olivia Benson in the TV show Law & Order: Special Victims Unit in 1999, and she has been in a total of 481 episodes. The show is still being made.
Because of this popular show, Mariska has built a successful career. She won an Emmy Award and a Golden Globe for her role as Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series. She was also nominated for eight other awards.
Mariska Hargitay is now a well-known actress, just like her mother. She even looks a lot like her with that beautiful smile!
In 2004, Mariska married actor and producer Peter Hermann, and they have three children.
Mariska was very young when her mother died in a car accident, but becoming a mom herself has made her feel closer to the mom she lost so early in life.
“Being a wife and mother is my life, and that gives me the most joy,” she said. “I understand [my mother] in a new way that gives me peace. Now I understand the love she had in her, and it makes me feel closer to her.”
When their stars were placed next to each other on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2013, Mariska Hargitay and her mother Jayne Mansfield were reconnected in a way.
Jayne Mansfield’s remarkable performances will live on in memory forever.
Although she is no longer with us, she will always be remembered, and Mariska, her daughter, is an amazing actress. Don’t they resemble one another?
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I Organize Wedding for Rich Woman, on the Day of Event My Husband Gets Out of Groom’s Limousine — Story of the Day
One day, I attended the wedding of a very affluent woman, where I served as the event manager. I had been intricately involved in the planning of this wedding from the start. However, when I saw the groom for the first time, my heart nearly stopped. It was my John!
I’m Amanda, 28 years old, working as a private organizer of celebrations and events. Today was the grandest wedding I’d ever been assigned to handle, all for Catherine, a 38-year-old heiress of a clothing empire, who had spared no expense for her big day.
I had taken a two-hour flight to organize Catherine’s wedding, eager to bring her vision of a dreamy wedding to life. She wanted everything to be perfect, and so did I, but neither of us could have anticipated how the evening would soon take an unexpected turn.
A wedding invitation card | Source: Unsplash
Catherine was marrying Arnold, a young, affluent businessman, whom I had never met despite our numerous planning sessions.
“My fiancé trusts my vision, and given his busy schedule, he prefers handling business matters,” she’d say.
It struck me as odd that he never once showed up, not even to discuss the menu or the music. When I once asked, “Are you sure he wouldn’t want to weigh in on the band or the wine selection?” Catherine simply laughed, reassuring me he was fully on board with her choices.
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While Catherine was confident about her beloved fiancé, my curiosity about this mysterious groom grew as the wedding neared.
Little did I know the biggest surprise was yet to come, and it would leave me frozen in the face of crisis.
Today, the wedding venue buzzed from dawn. I directed everyone meticulously, ensuring the ivory tablecloths and golden centerpieces were perfectly placed and the crystal glassware and fine china were carefully arranged.
“Carefully stack the plates by size on that table over there, and make sure the glasses are accounted for by the caterer’s checklist,” I instructed the loaders.
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As the banquet hall filled, the air hummed with elegant music and whispered conversations. Then, a hush fell over the room as the presenter’s voice rang out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the groom, Arnold!”
I was eager to finally see this mysterious man who had been too busy to show up at any of the prior meetings.
A sleek black limousine pulled up. The door opened, and instead of Arnold, out stepped John, dressed impeccably in a tuxedo. My John, or so he had been until he disappeared six months ago, leaving me with heartache and a mountain of debt.
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I felt a chill run down my spine, and my feet cemented to the floor as I stared in disbelief. He looked around, and when his eyes met mine, there was no flicker of recognition, just the cool detachment of a stranger.
Shock rooted me to the spot as the room spun around me. Here was the man I once loved, now Catherine’s groom, living a new life under a new name. How could this be happening?
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His presence suddenly made me relive the painful memories of the day I found he had left. That was when I experienced the horror of seeing his belongings gone and our bank accounts drained. The man I trusted with my heart had stolen my savings.
As he confidently walked toward the banquet hall, a guest congratulated him with a pat on the back. Arnold, or John as I knew him, smiled with the charm of the perfect groom, yet beneath that facade was the con man who had devastated my life. As he vanished into the crowd, I decided I had to expose him before Catherine fell victim like I had.
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And looking at him, I remembered the day my life changed…
6 months ago…
One night, John and I were discussing our upcoming wedding plans in our cozy bedroom, the room bathed in the gentle glow of the bedside lamp.
“And how’s everything coming along with the wedding plans?” I inquired, aware of his lead on organizing our celebration.
He looked concerned. “Well, all the major payments are done. The venue, the caterers, the band, and the decorators,” he explained. “But I’ve used up all the funds.”
Confused, I pressed on, “All the funds? Even the money we set aside?”
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“Yes,” John sighed. “That and a bit more from my own accounts. There’s been a hitch with my project. The payment I was supposed to get this month has been delayed.”
“Of course, I understand. Things happen,” I reassured him.
“Could you sign a power of attorney in my name? Just so I can handle the payments more smoothly,” he asked.
Trusting him completely, I agreed. “I got the confirmation from the bank today. You can use my accounts now. They said the power of attorney paperwork was all in order.”
“Thank you, Amanda. I promise this wedding is going to be everything we’ve dreamed of and more.”
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That night, as we drifted to sleep, I felt secure in our love. To me, John was already my husband, and to him, I was already his wife. We had exchanged rings privately, but to the world, we were still an unmarried couple.
I trusted him with everything, yet I was unaware it would be our last night together.
The next morning, the bed beside me was cold and empty, the first sign of the nightmare that awaited. John’s usual morning presence was missing, and the room bore the eerie silence of his absence. My heart sank as I realized the depth of his deception.
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“John?” I called out, hoping to hear him in the bathroom or kitchen, but there was only silence. My unease deepened as I walked through the cold apartment to the kitchen and then to other rooms—nothing.
That’s when I noticed muddy shoe prints leading to our closet. Heart pounding, I followed the trail and found the closet empty except for a few of my dresses.
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Chilled, I grabbed my phone and saw notifications from the bank—one for $38,000 and another for $23,000, both withdrawn from my accounts just an hour ago. Panic set in as I dialed John’s number repeatedly, but it only reached voicemail.
“He wouldn’t,” I whispered in denial, tears clouding my vision as the truth sank in: John had disappeared, and with him, all our savings.
Driven by a mix of betrayal and desperation, I dressed and walked to the police station, feeling every step weigh heavy with his deceit. I managed to choke out to the officer at the desk, “Excuse me, I need to report a theft.”
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In the office, Officer Harris asked, “Can you tell me more about how this happened?”
“My husband… I mean fiancé, John Freeman, has disappeared along with all our savings,” I explained, detailing how I had given him access to my bank accounts via a power of attorney to manage our wedding payments.
“He… he showed me receipts of caterers, decorators, and the venue and talked about the arrangements. I trusted him,” I admitted.
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Officer Harris took notes, then explained that since John had power of attorney, his actions weren’t illegal per se.
“It’s complicated. We will try to investigate, try to find him, but recovering the money might be difficult if he’s not found,” he said, hinting at the bleak chances of recourse given John’s likely fictitious identity.
“I understand. Thank you for your help, Officer Harris,” I managed to say, standing up slowly.
He gave me his card and I left the police station in tears, a crushing realization settling in. John’s thorough deceit left me alone to face the fallout.
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Present time…
There he was, John, now called Arnold, mingling confidently at his wedding, appearing every bit the affluent businessman he was impersonating. I knew the truth about him, but seeing him laughing and engaging with guests filled me with a mix of anger and fear.
Without hesitation, I marched towards him, my heart pounding. As he turned and saw me, his smile dropped momentarily. Before he could speak, I slapped him, the sound resonating across the hall, silencing nearby conversations.
“You are a scoundrel and a swindler!” I yelled, ensuring everyone could hear.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be mistaken,” he said.
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Turning to the bride, Catherine, I exposed him, “This man is not who he claims to be! I know him as John; he is my ex who cheated on me right before our wedding. He left me drowning in debt and ran away with all my money!”
Arnold, now desperate, declared, “She’s mentally ill! Don’t listen to her. My name is Arnold, not John.”
Ignoring his lies, I retorted, “Oh, really? And I suppose you have a multitude of passports and names to use as well? How convenient for your scams!”
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I pulled out my phone to call the police but was interrupted by a man stepping forward, his badge visible.
“Ma’am, my name is Peter Greenwood, and I’m the chief of the local police department. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said sternly. “This is my sister’s wedding, and I know Arnold well. He’s a good man. You’re clearly confused.”
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Defeated and furious, I left, my mind racing with plans for exposing John’s true identity. I couldn’t let him deceive Catherine as he had deceived me.
At a nearby cafe, I mulled over my options while sipping strong black coffee. Remembering Catherine’s story about her grandmother’s sister, Linda, who she wished could see her happiness, sparked an idea. It had been decades since Catherine last saw her.
“What if Linda comes to the wedding today?” I murmured to myself, envisioning a plan. There would be no real Linda—I would take her place.
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Then, I called Carla, a talented makeup artist, and asked her to make me look like a 90-year-old woman. She agreed, and came to my place in no time.
Soon, I was sitting in my living room, transformed into an elderly woman, ready to reintroduce myself as Linda at the wedding. I was determined to expose Arnold and prevent another disaster.
Approaching the banquet hall entrance as “Linda,” I told the guards, “My name is Linda, I believe I’m expected.”
They hesitated, not finding my name on the list. “Oh, dear, there must be some mistake. Please, could you call Miss Catherine?” I requested with a frail voice.
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Soon, Catherine approached, puzzled. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Don’t you recognize your grandmother Linda?” I replied, maintaining the elderly act.
Tears welled up in Catherine’s eyes as she embraced me. “Grandma? Wow, you look…it’s been ages! How did you— How did you know about today?”
“Grandma Linda always knows, my dear Catherine!” I chuckled.
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Inside, I sought out the event coordinator and requested the microphone. Addressing the gathering, I began, “Good evening, everyone. I am so delighted to be here today to celebrate the union of these two wonderful souls.”
I glanced at Arnold, then announced, “And I have brought with me a very precious gift. A legacy that has been passed down in our family from generation to generation.”
Pulling out a fake sparkling diamond, I declared, “This is a precious diamond, worth about $800,000. It has been in the bank storage all my life, and I will return it there today. I give Catherine the right to use this storage and keep this diamond safe.”
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While Catherine thanked me with tears, I watched Arnold closely. Two hours later, he made his move. He stood up, excused himself to use the toilet, and moments later, the lights went out. I knew it was Arnold. I knew he had his eyes on the diamond in my purse.
I quickly hid behind the back entrance with a glass decanter in my hand, leaving my purse on the table. As Arnold rushed through with the diamond, I struck him on the back of the head. He collapsed, dropping the diamond.
“You were right,” Catherine’s brother, the police chief, said upon witnessing the scene. He soon called his team at the wedding venue to arrest Arnold.
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Catherine approached with shock and gratitude on her face. “Amanda, it was you all along?” she whispered.
I confirmed, explaining my actions to protect her. She was too shaken by the events on what was supposed to be the biggest day of her life. But a week later, imagine my surprise when she showed up to meet me, thanked me, and offered me a job as her personal assistant.
“I’d be honored, Catherine,” I accepted, embracing a hopeful future.
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