he had his father’s eye for women

Harry Crosby (1898–1929) was an American heir, a bon vivant, poet and publisher. He was the son of one of the richest banking families in New England.

Harry and friend found here

Tired of the rigidity of everyday life, he said he wanted to escape “the horrors of Boston virgins.” Profoundly affected by his experience as an ambulance driver in World War I, Crosby vowed to live life on his own terms.

image found here

He had his father’s eye for women and in 1920 met Mrs. Polly Peabody, six years his senior. Harry reportedly fell in love with the buxom Mrs. Peabody in about two hours, confessing all in the Tunnel of Love at the amusement park. Their open affair was the source of scandal and gossip among blue-blood Bostonians. Polly divorced her alcoholic husband and married Crosby. Two days later they left for Europe, where they enjoyed a decadent lifestyle, drinking, smoking opium, traveling frequently, and having an open marriage.

image found here

Harry worked at Morgan, Harjes et Cie, the Morgan family’s bank in Paris. They found an apartment overlooking the Seine, and Polly would don her red bathing suit and row Harry down the Quai d’Orléans in his dark business suit, formal hat, umbrella and briefcase. As she rowed back home, the well endowed Polly would enjoy whistles and waves from workmen. She said the exercise was good for her breasts.

“The Young Rower” found here

Even by the wild standards of Paris in the 1920s, Harry was in a league of his own. The couple lived a hedonistic life. Harry was a gambler and a womanizer; he drank “oceans of champagne” and used opium, cocaine, and hashish. They wrote a mutual suicide pact, and carried cremation instructions with them.

more of Harry’s photography to be found here

In 1924, Harry persuaded Polly to formally change her first name, as he felt Polly was too prim and proper. They briefly considered Clytoris before deciding on Caresse. Harry and Caresse became known for hosting small dinner parties from the giant bed in their palatial townhouse, and afterwards everyone was invited to enjoy their huge bathtub together, taking advantage of iced bottles of champagne near at hand.

image by Burt Glinn found here

Crosby claimed to be a “sun worshiper in love with death.” He added a doodle of a “black sun” to his signature which also included an arrow, jutting upward from the “y” in his last name and aiming toward the center of the sun’s circle: “a phallic thrust received by a welcoming erogenous zone“.

In Morocco Harry and Caresse took a 13-year-old dancing girl named Zora to bed with them. His seductive abilities were legendary and he engaged in a series of ongoing affairs, maintaining relationships with a variety of beautiful and doting young women.

NOT this Zora (Hurston) found here

His wildness was in full flower during the drunken orgies of the annual Four Arts Balls. One year, Caresse showed up topless riding a baby elephant and wearing a turquoise wig. The motif for the ball that year was Inca, and Harry dressed for the occasion, covering himself in red ocher and wearing nothing but a loincloth and a necklace of dead pigeons.

pigeon ring necklaces found here

Embracing the open sexuality offered by Crosby and his wife, Henri Cartier-Bresson fell into an intense sexual relationship with Caresse that lasted until 1931. Meanwhile, in 1928 Harry found 20-year-old Josephine Rotch. Ten years his junior, they met while she was shopping in Venice for her wedding trousseau. She was dark and intense and had been known around Boston as fast: a ‘bad egg’ with sex appeal. 

image by Cartier-Bresson found here

Josephine and Harry had an affair until the following June, when she married Albert Smith Bigelow. Briefly, their affair was over, but only until August, when Josephine contacted Crosby and they rekindled their love. But unlike Caresse, Josephine was quarrelsome and prone to fits of jealousy. 

In December, the Crosbys returned to the United States. Harry and Josephine met and traveled to Detroit where they checked into the Book-Cadillac Hotel as Mr. and Mrs Harry Crane. For four days they took meals in their room, smoked opium, and had sex. On December 7, the lovers returned to New York. Crosby’s friend Hart Crane threw a party to bid Harry and Caresse bon voyage, as they were about to sail back to France. Josephine said she would return to her husband but instead stayed in New York, writing a poem to Harry, the last line of which read: Death is our marriage. 

refurbished Book-Cadillac Hotel found here

On the evening of December 10, Harry was nowhere to be found. It was unlike him to worry Caresse needlessly so she called Stanley Mortimer, whose studio Harry had used for trysts. Mortimer forced open a locked door, behind which he found Harry and Josephine’s bodies. Harry was in bed with a .25 caliber bullet hole in his right temple next to Josephine, who had a matching hole in her left temple, in what appeared to be a suicide pact. 

A picture of Zora, the 13-year-old girl he had sex with in Egypt, was reportedly found in his wallet. The coroner reported that Harry’s toenails were painted red, and that he had a Christian cross tattooed on the sole of one foot and a pagan icon representing the sun on the other. The coroner concluded that Josephine had died at least two hours before Harry. There was no suicide note, and newspapers ran sensational articles for days.

Harry’s poetry possibly gave the best clue to his motives. Death is “the hand that opens the door to our cage, the home we instinctively fly to.” Harry’s biographer Wolff wrote:

He meant to do it; it was no mistake; it was not a joke. If anything of Harry Crosby commands respect, perhaps even awe, it was the unswerving character of his intention. He killed himself not from weariness or despair, but from conviction, and however irrational or ignoble this conviction may have been, he held fast to it as to a principle. He killed himself on behalf of the idea of killing himself.

found here

Published in: on April 12, 2012 at 8:22 am  Comments (53)  
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53 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Few are gifted!

    • And some that are, just waste their gifts

      • They are theirs to waste if they so choose.

  2. Too much money makes people do strange things.

    • It seems to be a curse for many

  3. Golly. Wish he’d left some how to seduce tips to us less magnetic than he.

    • I’ve heard that giving someone your full attention is a good seduction technique

  4. If you gotta go, go with style. And complete debauchery.

    • But is suicide ever stylish?

  5. Yet another fascinating story of the rich and famous. I’m wondering – does it take scads of $$ to live such an outrageous, dissolute life and require an audience to thrive on doing so?
    And in the end, so much for Caresse…

    • Yes, perhaps it’s having an audience which encourages people to do more and more outrageous things

  6. Money and a magnetic, seductive personality seems to be more a curse than a blessing. Although I would accept such a curse. :)

    • What would you do with so much money Archie?

  7. oh, you had me at clytoris.

    • Of course I did darlin’

  8. Some people just know how to live don’t they? of course i think i would’ve hung on awhile longer, the party seemed to be going pretty well when Harry offed himself.

    • Too young to throw in the towel

  9. “The rigidity of everyday life”…..*snigger*

  10. I laughed out loud at Clytoris.

    • Imagine the reaction in the schoolyard

      • Nursie, with the modern penchant for “interesting” baby names, I have no doubt it is only a matter of time until we hear that there are lots of little Clytorises running around. Oh hush my mouth …

  11. It surprises me that all these rich people could find nothing better to do with their money than party, do drugs, drink and indulge in indiscriminate sex. Their favorite charity was themselves.

    • Sadly, it would appear that you are right

  12. And there was I thinking this might have a happy ending to it..

    • Sorry, the happy endings are few and far between at the Gimcrack

  13. Exercise can be a detriment to the size of a woman’s breast.

    • but can do wonders to the size of a man’s wrist !

  14. i was cheering madly for this to have a happy ending… damn it.

  15. Why do such people do a marriage thing in the first place ?

  16. Clytoris? Hahaha At least they had some sence not to use that name

  17. Very odd, that last paragraph. How can anyone presume to know the reasons why?

    • The last paragraph is more about the writer’s opinion than anything else

      • It reads like a statement of fact.

  18. Too much money and too much time.

  19. Oh dear oh dear. Poor Caresse. They were supposed to die together. Why did he end it with Josephine? And what was he doing in those last 2 hours? Oh I wish I knew.

  20. Intersting life.
    But iIwouldn’t want them as neighbours.
    Especially with the Elephant.

    • haha… I’d forgotten about the elephant

  21. One can only wonder what “the horrors of Boston virgins” implies

    • We’ll have to ask someone who lives in Boston. alonewithcats does….

  22. Well, on the bright side, myra, it’s still Friday here…

    http://sonofsoylentgreen.wordpress.com/2012/04/13/corset-friday-360/

    • That’s a very tasty corset you’re featuring today

      • I bow, as always, to your expertise.

  23. Harry and Caresse sound just perfect.

    • But what about the 13year old girl they took to bed with them?

  24. That’s the best real-life soap opera plot I’ve ever read! I must say Harry’s suicide was good riddance though. From what is written, he was a control-freak and a pedophile.

    • Totally.

  25. Both had balls. BTW Hemingway was an ambulance driver in WWI too, on the Italian front I think. “Black sun” rings a bell, but I think it’s a coincidence.

  26. Wow, just wow. The ending is just a bit weird, though… I think Josephine killed him, then killed herself. Just that she died later.

  27. Nope, I’m in agreement that it was a conviction. He was dead set on it. I leave the story feeling sorry for Caresse.

  28. Dead pigeon necklaces are SO last year.

  29. I wonder what it would be like to live just one day in this manner of wealth and debauchery.

    I’ve dated a few people around Boston who fit this description: “a ‘bad egg’ with sex appeal.”


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