LIFE With the ‘Lizard King’: Jim Morrison and the Doors, 1968

Reflecting the uncertain, tumultuous era in which it was made, much of the popular music of 1968 was moody, trippy, obtuse and, perhaps not surprisingly, utterly confounding to many in the mainstream.

Among the counterculture protagonists that LIFE sought to bring to its millions of readers was Jim Morrison, the highly influential lyricist and front man of the Doors. For a LIFE feature, “Wicked Go the Doors: An Adult’s Education by the Kings of Acid Rock,” the writer Fred Powledge studied Morrison through his lyrics and his notorious onstage antics. 

Here, LIFE.com presents color portraits of the then-24-year-old rocker/poet, plus shots that never ran in the magazine of the Doors playing New York’s famed Fillmore East.

At the time of his 1968 portrait session with photographer Yale Joel in New York, Morrison and his bandmates had released two albums (featuring hits such as “Light My Fire,” “People Are Strange” and “Love Me Two Times”), and were about to record a third, Waiting for the Sun. As their popularity grew, the 33-year-old Powledge, taking a break from his typical beat (civil rights and race relations), aimed to “dig,” in an almost scientific fashion, the weird but compelling music his 9-year-old daughter was into.

The most satanic thing [Powledge wrote] about the Doors is Jim Morrison, the lead vocalist and author of most of the group’s songs. Morrison is 24 years old, out of UCLA, and he appears in public and on his records to be moody, temperamental, enchanted in the mind and extremely stoned on something . . . [Morrison’s lyrics] are not what you’d call simple and straightforward. You can’t listen to the record once or twice and then put it away in the rack. And this is one of the exciting characteristics of the new music in general: you really have to listen to it, repeatedly, preferably at high volume in a room that is otherwise quiet and perhaps darkened. You must throw away all those old music-listening habits that you learned courtesy of the Lucky Strike Hit Parade and Mantovani.

“Once you see him perform,” Powledge continued, “you realize that he also seems dangerous, which, for a poet, may be a contradiction in terms.”

LIFE’s physical description of Morrison, meanwhile, name-checked a famous burlesque dancer and pinup girl: “He wears skin-tight black leather pants, on stage and away from it; and when he sings, he writhes and grinds and is sort of the male equivalent of the late Miss Lilly Christine, the Cat Girl. But with Lilly Christine you had a good idea that the performance was going to stop short of its promised ending-point. You don’t know that with Morrison.”

The anything-goes attitude Powledge sensed in Morrison was not unfounded: While working on his story in 1967, the writer was in the audience for a Doors concert in New Haven, Conn., and watched as Morrison who had been ranting to the audience about local police was arrested onstage on indecency charges (later dropped).

You are reminded that the music is a plastic reflection of our plastic world. The sounds are transistorized, sharper than sharp, just as the plastic lettering over a hot dog stand is redder than red. Out of this context the music even the conventional sounds of the church organ or the street noises is unreal; it is marvelously effective in reflecting what’s going on in our society. It dances close to disharmony, to insanity; sometimes it does sound insane and disharmonious, but then you listen closer and find a harmony hidden deep within it.

“Morrison is a very good actor and a very good poet, one who speaks in short, beautiful bursts, like the Roman Catullus,” Powledge wrote. “His lyrics often seem obscure, but their obscurity, instead of making you hurry off to play a Pete Seeger record that you can understand, challenges you to try to interpret. You sense that Morrison is writing about weird scenes he’s been privy to, about which he would rather not be too explicit.”

LIFE’s April 1968 take on Jim Morrison and his band wasn’t the only time the magazine visited the topic. Just two months later, in a story titled “The New Rock” (featuring not only the Doors but also Big Brother and the Holding Company, the Jefferson Airplane, the Mothers of Invention, Cream, the Who and Country Joe and the Fish), Morrison explained his philosophies and his cathartic stage shows.

“Rather than start from the inside, I start on the outside and reach the mental through the physical,” he told LIFE. “Today is the age of the heroes, who live for us and through whom we experience the heights and depths of emotion. The spectator is a dying animal and the purgation of emotion is left up to the actor, not the audience.”

That sort of quasi-mystical hocus-pocus is, of course, exactly the reason countless rock and roll fans have always been drawn to the Doors, and why so many others find them so gratingly pretentious. Hardly anyone who is at all familiar with their music is lukewarm toward the band a fact that would no doubt bring a smile, or a sneer, to Morrison’s face if only he were still alive.

Not long after Yale Joel made the photos in this gallery, the sinuous Morrison seen here had changed: he became hairier and heavier as he descended deeper into drinking and drugging. He was just 27 when he died.

Still, he was prolific in the three short years between the Joel photo session and his death, fronting memorable concerts, recording three more Doors albums and writing two volumes of poetry all of it building upon the material that elevated him from rock ‘n’ roll front man to pop-culture icon.

Jim Morrison, photographed in New York City by LIFE's Yale Joel in 1968.

Jim Morrison, photographed in New York City by LIFE’s Yale Joel in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

Jim Morrison, photographed in New York City by LIFE's Yale Joel in 1968.

Jim Morrison, 1968

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

Jim Morrison, photographed in New York City by LIFE's Yale Joel in 1968.

Jim Morrison, 1968

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

The Doors perform at New York City's Fillmore East in 1968.

The Doors performed at New York City’s Fillmore East in 1968.

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

Jim Morrison, photographed in New York City by LIFE's Yale Joel in 1968.

Jim Morrison, 1968

Yale Joel / The LIFE Picture Collection

On Arbor Day, Gratitude and Praise for Trees Great and Small

In her classic 1918 novel, My Antonia, the writer Willa Cather re-created and paid homage to a vanished world of America’s Great Plains — a world of hardy homesteaders and tiny, solitary towns tenaciously clinging to the land amid vast and still-wild spaces. Among the countless memorable, vivid passages in the book, one in particular stands out as a near-perfect distillation of the almost unbearable solitude of the lives lived out on the great, rolling prairie.

“Trees were so rare in that country,” the book’s narrator recalls, “and they had to make such a hard fight to grow, that we used to feel anxious about them, and visit them as if they were persons. It must have been the scarcity of detail in that tawny landscape that made detail so precious.”

There is, after all, something sociable about trees — whether we encounter them singly, in small groves, or in enormous forests. Trees give us paper and pencils, guitars and parquet floors, whiskey barrels and church pews. They offer shade on hot days. They lock away carbon dioxide. Their incredible root systems control runoff from heavy rains and help keep streams and rivers free of choking silt and mud. They act as windbreaks, minimizing snowdrifts in the winter and reducing topsoil erosion all year round. They keep city streets cool, and help muffle noise pollution.

Here, on Arbor Day, we offer gratitude and praise to trees — steadfast companions on our small planet.

Johnny Cash: A National Treasure

There aren’t too many American musicians of the past century who left a richer legacy, or were more influential across a broader range of genres, than the Man in Black. Through six decades, Johnny Cash created music that spoke with power and eloquence to sharecroppers, punk rockers, prison inmates and hip-hoppers. Many of the songs he penned or famously recorded—”Big River,” “I Walk the Line,” “Ring of Fire,” “A Boy Named Sue,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” “Get Rhythm,” “Don’t Take Your Guns to Town,” “The Matador” and on and on—have not only become classics, but have been embraced as national treasures by Americans of every political stance, creed and ethnicity.

[Buy the LIFE book, Johnny Cash: An Illustrated Biography]

But Johnny Cash was not merely a great songwriter and singularly engaging singer. He was a cultural force. When he sang with a young Bob Dylan on Dylan’s gorgeous “Girl From the North Country” in 1969, the pairing was a quiet revolution, reconciling Dylan’s New Folk counterculture blues with Cash’s old-school, hillbilly honky-tonk.

When he recorded Peter LaFarge’s “Ballad of Ira Hayes” in 1964 and took it to No. 3 on the Billboard country charts, he brought the terrible tale of how one of the men who raised the flag on Iwo Jima died, drunk and alone, to far more people than had ever heard the song or the story before.

Here, in tribute to the one and only Johnny Cash, LIFE.com presents a selection of photos made for a November 1969 feature in the magazine titled “Hard-Times King of Song.”

Some of these photos will be of particular interest to fans of the outstanding 2005 biopic Walk The Line. The pictures of Johnny Cash on his tractor or fishing with his father on the pier by his house call to mind key moments from that film, which received five Oscar nominations.

Cash, LIFE told its readers, was a man who had lived hard, had come through and, by all measures, showed no sign of letting the limelight alter the essentials of who he was and what he believed.

His face looks ruined, his lean body whipped out. He sings, off-key, of bygone days that many of his listeners can’t even remember: railroads, hobos on the open road, Depression, hard times he knew growing up poor in an Arkansas cotton patch. These are curiously old-fashioned themes, but the homely lyrics and rough-cut personality of Johnny Cash make them fresh.

Cash, 37, has been singing and writing country ballads for 15 years. He has recorded more than 300 songs and written twice that many, most of them an unpromising mixture of folklore, sentiment and pure corn that until recently appealed mainly to fans of the Grand Ole Opry. Now the young like him because he has the ring of authenticity and supports social causes, such as prison reform. . . . Only two years ago Cash was down and out himself. Before he kicked the habit, he became so addicted to pep pills that he woke up in a Georgia jail unable to remember how he got there.

Cash appeals to Americans who are increasingly fed up with the pressure and confusions of city life and yearn to get back to the land. “Last year it was soul,” says a friend. “This year everybody is scratching in the soil. That’s why Johnny works. He’s got soil.”

Cover image from the November 21, 1969, issue of LIFE.

The image of Johnny Cash that appeared on the cover of the November 21, 1969, issue of LIFE.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash with friends and family at his home in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash with friends and family at his home in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell, 1969.

Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell, 1969.

Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash and Jack Palance, 1969.

Johnny Cash and Jack Palance, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Roy Orbison plays for guests at Johnny Cash's house, Tennessee, 1969. NOTE: In its November 21, 1969, issue, LIFE misidentified Orbison as Red Lane   a country music legend in his own right and a Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame inductee.

Roy Orbison played for guests at Johnny Cash’s house, Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash during a recording session at Columbia Studio B, Nashville, Tennessee.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Johnny Cash in Tennessee, 1969.

Michael Rougier The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Johnny Cash fished with his father outside his Tennessee home, 1969.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Johnny Cash fished in a lake near his Tennessee home, 1969.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Johnny Cash drove a tractor on his estate, 1969.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

Johnny Cash with wife June Carter at home.

Michael Rougier/The LIFE Picture Collection © Meredith Corporation

LIFE With Woody Guthrie: Photos of an American Treasure

In 1943, Woodrow Wilson “Woody” Guthrie was about to publish his now-classic, semi-fictionalized autobiography, Bound for Glory, in which he wrote vibrantly about his childhood, his love of American folk songs and his epic travels as a freight car-hopping itinerant poet during the Depression.

While Bound for Glory would introduce Guthrie to a broader audience than the relatively few who, at the time, knew him only through his music, Woody was already something of an underground hero to other musicians folk and protest singers who soon, in the late Fifties and early Sixties, would be shaking America from its post-war somnolence. A politically engaged artist, Guthrie crafted wrenching tales of loss and struggle, as well as paeans to romantic love and heartfelt, platitude-free patriotism, into some of the most enduring music America has ever produced.

In fact, at the time the photographs in this gallery were made, Guthrie had written and performed, but not yet published, the simple, celebratory song that countless Americans consider the United States’ genuine national anthem: “This Land Is Your Land.”

Here, in tribute to an utterly singular American life, LIFE.com presents photos none of which appeared in LIFE magazine from 1943, chronicling the guitar-strumming Oklahoma native’s rambles through wartime New York City.

“The note of hope is the only note that can help us or save us from falling to the bottom of the heap of evolution,” Guthrie once asserted, in one of his philosophically tinged writings, “because, largely, about all a human being is, anyway, is just a hoping machine. . . . There’s a feeling in music and it carries you back down the road you have traveled and makes you travel it again. Sometimes when I hear music I think back over my days and a feeling that is fifty-fifty joy and pain swells like clouds taking all kinds of shapes in my mind.”

A self-taught visual artist (accomplished sketches, cartoons, caricatures and line drawings fill many, many notebooks) as well as an inveterate, almost obsessive journal-keeper, Guthrie had a relationship with music that brings to mind the grit and very occasional glamor not only of the open road, but of the troubadour’s wandering life. Of Bound for Glory, New York Times reviewer Clifton Fadiman wrote: “Some day people are going to wake up to the fact that Woody Guthrie and the ten thousand songs that leap and tumble off the strings of his music box are a national possession like Yellowstone and Yosemite, and part of the best stuff this country has to show the world.”

Guthrie had a strong connection to New York City, too, living on Mermaid Avenue in Brooklyn in the 1940s an evocative address made famous to a new generation of fans by Billy Bragg and Wilco, who put unpublished Guthrie lyrics to music in scores of wonderful songs, collected and released by Nonesuch records as Mermaid Avenue: The Complete Sessions (2012).

New York City was where Woody Guthrie made his first professional recordings; where he wrote “This Land Is Your Land”; where he befriended and collaborated with other politically minded artists like Pete Seeger; and where his devotees including the likes of Bob Dylan and the great Phil Ochs later ignited their own Guthrie-inspired folk scene in downtown coffee houses and dives. “You could listen to his songs and learn how to live,” Dylan once said of his hero’s life and work.

On assignment for LIFE in 1943, photographer Eric Schaal followed Guthrie as he gave impromptu performances around New York in bars, on the stoops of brownstones, on the subway. Engaging and at ease, the Woody Guthrie of these photos is exactly where he liked to be: among working people, and the children of working people, guitar in hand, sharing his own lyrics and the lyrics of other folk musicians with the very men and women those lyrics were always written for, and about.

“I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world,” Guthrie once said, “no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built. I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work.”

“Woody is just Woody,” another American artist, John Steinbeck, once wrote. “Thousands of people do not know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and I suspect that he is, in a way, that people. Harsh voiced and nasal . . . there is nothing sweet about Woody, and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who still listen. There is the will of a people to endure and fight against oppression. I think we call this the American spirit.”

Woody Guthrie died on Oct. 3, 1967, from complications brought on by Huntington’s disease, when he was only 55.


Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943.

Woody Guthrie, New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie at McSorley's Old Ale House, still standing today in the East Village, New York City, 1943.

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943.

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie sings at the American Club for Indian Seaman in New York, 1943.

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie sings to sailors at a USO club, New York, 1943.

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943.

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie entertains New York commuters in 1943, strumming a guitar bearing his now-famous slogan, "This Machine Kills Fascists."

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie entertains commuters in New York, 1943.

Woody Guthrie, New York City, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Woody Guthrie in New York, 1943

Eric Schaal Time & Life Pictures/Shutterstock

LIFE With Jayne Mansfield: Vintage Photos of a Pop-Culture Icon

The actress and singer Jayne Mansfield (born Vera Jayne Palmer on April 19, 1933) was one of those quintessentially American pop-culture creations who helped define the country’s mood playful, naive, expansive in the middle part of the 20th century. That she was also, in large part, a self-created icon who reveled in publicity stunts only added, and still adds today, to her appeal: it’s difficult, after all, to dislike someone who so giddily pursues fame, and who so exuberantly embraces it once it’s attained.

Here, LIFE.com remembers the archetypal blonde bombshell with a series of photos none of which ran in LIFE magazine made by Peter Stackpole in the spring of 1956. Mansfield was in her early 20s at the time and, while she was not yet a full-fledged movie star, she was clearly someone to watch; she had already made a name for herself on Broadway and was, it seemed, destined for bigger things on the silver screen. As LIFE wrote in an April 1956 issue:

Though the thought has never crossed her pretty blond head, Jayne Mansfield is one of the most interesting sociological studies to be found anywhere in the U.S. this spring. Miss Mansfield has burst dazzlingly upon the theatrical world as a star of a Broadway comedy called Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? and currently seems to be getting her name and photograph into more Broadway columns and movie magazines than any other actress alive. . . . Miss Mansfield is still just herself, friendly and frank, perhaps even somewhat naive in her own calculating way. This is a rare situation, for ordinarily a movie queen is presented to the public only after some studio has gone to immense expense changing her over completely, to the point where her own mother would not recognize her.

Miss Mansfield does not even obey cliché No. 1 of the movie queen, which is to act bored with success. No teen-ager ever exhibited so much tenacity at seeking autographs as she does at signing them; she will stand in wind, rain or snow until her last admirer is satisfied.

She has the same come-hither-you-brute sort of voice and look as Marilyn Monroe. But the comparison, which a more seasoned actress would at least pretend to love, does not seem to please Miss Mansfield at all. “Marilyn is very attractive and all that,” she has said, “but she and I are entirely different. I can dye my hair and play a serious part.” For that matter Miss Mansfield would not even have to dye her hair. She could just let it grow back to its natural color, which she admits, again in gross violation of the movie queen’s code, is brown.

Despite her best efforts, however and in spite of the fact that she was, after all, a talented actress and (classically trained) musician Mansfield found it hard to get solid film roles, and her screen career was spotty after the mid-1950s. She did find great success (and riches) as a nightclub entertainer in her late 20s and early 30s, and (who knows?) might have parlayed that into a movie-career resurgence if her life had not been cut short. Riding home from a Mississippi nightclub in June 1967, Mansfield was killed when her driver slammed into the back of a tractor-trailer.

Jayne Mansfield was 34 when she died.

Jayne Mansfield at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield sprawls in bed, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield poses on the phone at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield with her pet Chihuahua, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield in the mirror, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield exuberantly brushes her hair, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield smokes at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield with her pet Chihuahua, at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield with her pet Chihuahua, at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield, clad in a revealing negligee, looks over newspapers with her pet Chihuahua in her lap, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield, clad in a revealing negligee, looks over newspapers with her pet Chihuahua in her lap, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield, terribly relaxed at home, Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Jayne Mansfield with her pet Chihuahua, at home in Hollywood, 1956.

Jayne Mansfield 1956

Peter Stackpole The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

LIFE With Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier: Photos From the ‘Wedding of the Century’

Before Harry and Meghan, before William and Kate, before Charles and Di, before Liz and Dick (I and II), before any of the “storybook” weddings of the past several decades, there was the fairytale wedding of the last century: the April 1956 nuptials of Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier III of Monaco. The tale of the American movie star and Philadelphia native marrying the prince of a small, sensationally wealthy city-state was simply too perfect to ignore and for months leading up to the event, from the time of the couple’s engagement until the two ceremonies (civil and religious) that formalized their union, the Hollywood princess and the real-life prince were hardly ever out of the news.

Here, LIFE.com presents photos many of which never ran in LIFE magazine from the moment the couple announced their engagement in January 1956 until they were married three and a half months later in Monaco. In an issue published a few weeks after the wedding, LIFE framed the singular phenomenon for the magazine’s millions of readers:

Largely ignored throughout its long history, the pint-sized principality of Monaco last week enjoyed a beautiful modern recognition. Grace Kelly, daughter of a millionaire former hod carrier [in short, a construction laborer] from Philadelphia and the virtual princess of moviedom’s make-believe world, was getting married there. She was becoming a princess officially by her marriage to Monaco’s Prince Rainier, who holds 139 other titles and is absolute ruler of a 370-acre realm with 20,000 subjects.

Throughout the palpitant anxieties which are the lot of every bride, Miss Kelly was everything the enthusiastic Monegasques could have wished. She had to go through two weddings, separately required by the Napoleonic Code of Monaco and the laws of the Roman Catholic Church. . . . [After the first she assumed the title] Her Serene Highness, Princess Gracia Patricia of Monaco. [During the second] she became a wife indeed when she helped the nervous Prince Rainier settle the ring on her finger.

And so an old-style fairy tale came to its appropriately romantic conclusion, but only after a number of modern day variations and additions had come to pass.

The princess-to-be had barley set foot in Monaco when the principality and much of the rest of Europe were there bearing gifts. The wedding presents ranged from the fabulous to the foolish. Among the more practical was a Rolls-Royce, among the less useful a gold and bone hatchet.

All the loose wealth gathered there acted magnetically on Europe’s thieves. $50,000 worth of jewels swiped from the wife of a pal of Grace’s father . . . $8,000 in gems lifted from the hotel room of one of the bridesmaids.

After their wedding, Monaco’s newlyweds wasted no time starting a family: Nine months and four days later, Grace gave birth to Princess Caroline, their first of three children. The couple was married for 26 years, until the princess’ death in 1982 from injuries sustained in a car accident. The prince, who never remarried and who died in 2005, is buried beside his wife in the Grimaldi family vault, inside the Monaco cathedral where they wed.

Liz Ronk edited this gallery for LIFE.com. Follow her on Twitter at @LizabethRonk.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier wed, St. Nicholas Cathedral, Monaco, April 19, 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier wed, St. Nicholas Cathedral, Monaco, April 19, 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier show her engagement ring to her mother and father at the Kelly home in Philadelphia, 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier show her engagement ring to her mother and father at the Kelly home in Philadelphia, 1956.

Howard Sochurek The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Monaco's Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly at time of the announcement of their engagement, January 1956.

Monaco’s Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly at time of the announcement of their engagement, January 1956.

Howard Sochurek The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier arrive at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, the day after announcing their engagement, January 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier arrive at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, the day after announcing their engagement, January 1956.

Ralph Morse The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, the day after announcing their engagement, January 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, the day after announcing their engagement, January 1956.

Ralph Morse The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier dance not long after announcing their engagement, 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier dance not long after announcing their engagement, 1956.

Ralph Morse The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Smiling in a brisk March wind and surrounded by photographers and fans, Grace Kelly poses just off of Fifth Avenue in New York, 1956.

Smiling in a brisk March wind and surrounded by photographers and fans, Grace Kelly poses just off of Fifth Avenue in New York, 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly takes a momentary breather while packing her things before the wedding, 1956.

Grace Kelly takes a momentary breather while packing her things before the wedding, 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly inside a New York jewelry store, where she perused possible gifts for her groom.

Grace Kelly inside a New York jewelry store, where she perused possible gifts for her groom.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly packing for her trip to Monaco, March 1956.

Grace Kelly packing for her trip to Monaco, March 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly, March 1956.

Grace Kelly, March 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and her poodle, Oliver, 1956.

Grace Kelly and her poodle, Oliver, 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly with her mother, Margaret Majer Kelly, before leaving New York for Monaco in March 1956.

Grace Kelly with her mother, Margaret Majer Kelly, before leaving New York for Monaco in March 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly (left) and one of her two sisters (either Peggy or Lizanne), New York City, 1956.

Grace Kelly (left) and one of her two sisters (either Peggy or Lizanne), New York City, 1956.

Lisa Larsen The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Seamstresses work on Grace Kelly's wedding dress and veil, conceived by MGM's wardrobe designer, Helen Rose, Hollywood, Calif., 1956.

Seamstresses work on Grace Kelly’s wedding dress and veil, conceived by MGM’s wardrobe designer, Helen Rose, Hollywood, Calif., 1956.

Allan Grant The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman puts the finishing touches on the pearl-studded prayer book for Grace Kelly's wedding, Hollywood, Calif., 1956.

A woman puts the finishing touches on the pearl-studded prayer book for Grace Kelly’s wedding, Hollywood, Calif., 1956.

Allan Grant The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly leaves a Hollywood studio lot for last time before her marriage, 1956.

Grace Kelly leaves a Hollywood studio lot for last time before her marriage, 1956.

Allan Grant The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly, SS Constitution, 1956

Grace Kelly, SS Constitution, 1956

Yale Joel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly, SS Constitution, 1956

Grace Kelly, SS Constitution, 1956

Yale Joel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly in Monaco, April 1956.

Grace Kelly in Monaco, April 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly in Monaco before her wedding, April 1956.

Grace Kelly in Monaco before her wedding, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier in Monaco, the day before their wedding, April 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier in Monaco, the day before their wedding, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Prince Rainier III and Grace Kelly ascend the steps of Monaco Palace. Kelly's dress required 25 yards of silk taffeta, 100 yards of silk net, 125-year-old rose-point lace bought from a museum, and thousands of tiny pearls.

Prince Rainier III and Grace Kelly ascend the steps of Monaco Palace. Kelly’s dress required 25 yards of silk taffeta, 100 yards of silk net, 125-year-old rose-point lace bought from a museum, and thousands of tiny pearls.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier kneel during Mass at their religious wedding, April 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier kneel during Mass at their religious wedding, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly prays before her wedding to Prince Rainier III, April 1956. (England's Queen Elizabeth II reportedly refused to attend the wedding because there were "too many movie stars.")

Grace Kelly prays before her wedding to Prince Rainier III, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier join hands as the Bishop of Monaco, Mgr. Gilles Barthe, administers the nuptial benediction at Saint Nicholas Cathedral, April 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier join hands as the Bishop of Monaco, Mgr. Gilles Barthe, administers the nuptial benediction at Saint Nicholas Cathedral, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Wedding ceremony of Prince Rainier III of Monaco to Grace Kelly, April 1956.

Wedding ceremony of Prince Rainier III of Monaco to Grace Kelly, April 1956.

Thomas D. McAvoy The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Princess Grace and Prince Rainier III, newlyweds, April 1956.

Princess Grace and Prince Rainier III, newlyweds, April 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Princess Grace and Prince Rainier III, newlyweds, are whisked away in a Rolls Royce convertible, April 1956.

Princess Grace and Prince Rainier III, newlyweds, are whisked away in a Rolls Royce convertible, April 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Prince Rainier III and Her Serene Highness, Princess Gracia Patricia of Monaco, April 19, 1956.

Prince Rainier III and Her Serene Highness, Princess Gracia Patricia of Monaco, April 19, 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Fireworks light up the sky above Monaco in celebration of the wedding of Prince Rainier III and Grace Kelly, April 1956.

Fireworks light up the sky above Monaco in celebration of the wedding of Prince Rainier III and Grace Kelly, April 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier III of Monaco, April 1956.

Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier III of Monaco, April 1956.

Frank Scherschel The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

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