Una, Oh Una, Where Have Una Gone? A Quick Look at the Once Remarkable, Now Sadly Forgotten Wonder That Was Una Merkel

The following, rather Proustian-esque paragraph-cum-prose poem and adjoining classic Hollywood photographs, is my humble contribution to the What a Character Blogathon being co-hosted by the lovely folks over at Once Upon a Screen, Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula's Cinema Club. 

Once upon a time lived a girl named Una.  Born at the beginning of a new century, in the wilds of Kentucky, under the free spirited sign of Sagittarius, and in the year of the rambunctious rabbit, young Una (and yes, that is her god-given name), after a time as star Lillian Gish's look-a-like (that's our intrepid little Una blowing around in Sjöström's Wind), would grow into the prattling, sassy, kewpie-dolled second banana of the pre-code age of motion pictures - a girl who took no gruff and gave nothing but - and after turns as Honest Abe's high school sweetheart, Sam Spade's cheeky secretary (no, not that Sam Spade, the first one, the one played by one Mr. Cortez), a spook-scared victim of a whispering bat in a movie that would go on to inspire Bob Kane in his creation of a certain caped crusader, and the smart-mouthed BFF of Jean Harlow in about three dozen films (slight exaggeration), our lovely little Una would costar in the musical 42nd Street, in a role that epitomized what it meant to be Una, in an Una world - the fast-talking dame that hung out with Ginger, before Ginger became Fred and Ginger - before moving onto another two and a half dozen films as Harlow's bewildered bestie (again, a slight exaggeration), as well as doin' some singin' and doin' some dancin', acting the eldest daughter to bank dick W.C. Fields, and getting into a wild west saloon cat fight with Marlene over a pair of her hubby's pants, and surviving a mother's suicide (our Una was in the house but survived when the gas was turned on - her mother did not), before eventually, like bud Blondell, taking on the roles of wild and crazy elder citizens, big-mouthed maids, and even mother to both Debbie Reynolds and Geraldine Page - the latter of which would even get her nominated for one of those oh so coveted golden statuettes - before ending her screen career alongside the King of Rock & Roll (racecar comedy-musical Spinout to be Elvis-specific), and even more eventually falling between those wicked multitudes of cracks in forgotten film history, and becoming what is known today as, well...as nothing, because no one except a faithful few even know who little Una is today, let alone how wonderful she was in so many thankless roles.  Once upon a time lived a girl named Una.

For more info on a girl named Una: Wikipedia and IMDb.