for a Hollywood starlet.

From fleeing a life in Nazi-occupied Austria

and a Nazi-loving husband, to helping create technology

for the US military, Hedy was more than just a pretty face.

Hedy Lamarr, the Nazi-fighting bombshell

who made cell phones possible.

Today we're exploring the badass life of Hedy Lamarr.

But before we do, why don't you click on that subscribe button?

It's what Hedy Lamarr would have wanted.

Now, let's get heavy on Hedy.

Hedy Lamarr was born into an affluent family

in Vienna, Austria during the heyday of Viennese

intellectualism in 1914.

Her father was a successful banker,

and her mother was a gifted concert pianist.

Vienna, in the early 20th century,

was a real hotbed for geniuses, nurturing

the brains of Sigmund Freud and artist Gustave Klimt,

amongst many others.

Hedy's education reflected her higher social standing.

She was taught through private tutors

before eventually attending a finishing school.

She left school to pursue a life on the stage and screen,

at only 16 years old.

Lamarr was first married in 1933 at the young age

of 18 years old, to an extremely wealthy man

named Friedrich Fritz Mandel.

Fritz was a rather controlling husband.

Lamarr claimed that the stone cold charmer kept her

as a prisoner in her own home.

Fritz's wealth was made from that sweet, sweet arms

manufacturing money, a lucrative business in Europe

in the years leading up to World War II.

Unfortunately, he was also on the wrong side of history.

This bona fide catch was a big old fan of Benito Mussolini

and Adolf Hitler.

As she saw into the reality of her marriage

to a Hitler sympathizer and the increasingly dangerous

political climate of Europe, Lamarr

knew it was time to get the hell out of there.

But it wouldn't be easy.

Lamarr executed an elaborate, dramatic escape from Fritz.

Her plan sounded like something that was lifted

right out of one of her movies.

It involved drugging her husband,

dressing up as one of the maids, fleeing to Paris,

filing for divorce, and then moving

to London, a place where Fritz couldn't follow her.

Still, this is half as crazy as Katie Holmes

trying to flee Tom Cruise.

Hedy Lamarr walked, so Katie Holmes could run.

Before she became Ms. Lamarr, well-known Hollywood actress,

Hedy used her maiden name by birth, Hedy Kiesler,

to light up the European big screen.

She changed her name when she moved to the United States,

setting her sights for Tinseltown as soon as she

escaped her Nazi-loving husband.

While in London, she met with Louis B. Mayer, one of the Ms

in MGM.

And as a co-founder of the famed MGM movie studio,

he was one of the most powerful men in Hollywood.

Mayer offered her a six-month contract on the spot in London,

but lowballed her significantly at an insulting $150 a week.

Even by 1930s standards, that's laughable.

And Lamarr knew she was worth more.

She booked passage on the same ship

Mayer was taking back to America to convince him of this

as well.

She spent their many days on the ocean, laying on the charm

to Mayer, and probably making for a ruined vacation

for a man just trying to cross the sea in peace.

It worked, however, and he agreed

to a contract, almost three times the amount originally

offered, at $500 a week.

It was Mayer who suggested she change her name, using

the last name Lamarr as an homage

to the former starlet Barbara Lamarr, who tragically died

young in 1926, but not by being thrown overboard

by an annoyed studio executive.

Hedy eventually made her way to America and Hollywood

and grew into a star.

Like many notable stars at the time,

she enlisted herself in USO tours

across the country to sell war bonds,

just like Steve Rogers in the first Captain America movie.

Her presence at these events was a big draw,

attracting thousands of fans, who

in turn would pay for autographs,

and yes, even kisses.

By signing her name on a photograph

and kissing a bunch of strangers,

Lamarr raised a reported $7 million in one night.

Hollywood did its best to do what

it could to support the war efforts during World War II,

whether it was hocking war bonds or putting on killer USO

shores.

But besides kisses, Hedy Lamarr also

contributed to defeating the Axis in other ways.

In 1940, she enlisted the help of composer George Antheil,

to help flesh out an idea she had

for a new frequency-hopping system,

capable of guiding and protecting American torpedoes

underwater.

She realized if radio signals traveled across constantly

changing radio frequencies, it could

sort of serpentine its way to avoid being jammed, making

it easier to guide torpedoes through unfriendly waters.

Though the Navy passed on their invention,

they did file away the patent as top secret.

Today, we can thank Lamarr and Antheil

for our Netflix streaming capabilities,

since their frequency-hopping technique would

be essential for the development of cell phones, Wi-Fi,

and Bluetooth.

Before her technology was used to put a little computer

in everybody's pocket to look at pictures of other people's

food, it was useful more minor items,

like preventing full-scale nuclear war.

In 1962, with America playing a risky game of nuclear chicken

with the Soviet Union via Cuba, otherwise known

as the Cuban Missile Crisis, President John F. Kennedy

set up a Naval blockade around the country of Cuba.

Every ship was outfitted with Lamarr's invention.

Unfortunately for Lamarr, the patent

for her groundbreaking invention had

expired by the time the Navy came around,

and no credit or monetary compensation

was awarded to her or Antheil a theme

that would become unfortunately common in her life.

It wasn't until the '90s when her second life

as a whip-smart inventor was thrust into the spotlight.

An article in Forbes, published in 1990, profiled Hedy Lamarr,

and her scientific inventions were publicly acknowledged

for the first time.

By this time, Hedy was in her late '70s, but the recognition

for accomplishments having nothing to do with her looks

was satisfying--

not long delayed, nonetheless.

When she was awarded the Electronic Frontier Foundation

Award in 1997 for her contributions

to scientific innovation, she reportedly said, "Well,

it's about time."

Damn right, Hedy.

Hedy's most controversial film of her esteemed career

was most definitely Ecstasy, a film

she started when she was only 18 years old.

Not only did she appear nude in this film,

she also earned the distinction of being

the first female on-screen to act out her climaxing,

though hardly the first female to fake one.

The movie premiered in 1933 to much controversy,

with many countries banning the film altogether.

Filming the scandalous scene itself

was not exactly a trip to Disneyland for Lamarr either.

The director of the film, Gustav Machaty,

pressured the young 18-year-old actress

into filming the nude scenes, despite her objections.

He went as far as to poke Lamarr with a safety pin

during the filming of the sex scene

in order to capture shots of her face

contorted in pain, which were passed off as pleasure.

Ouch.

Lamarr's look certainly gave her a leg up

in an industry as famously surface level as Hollywood.

But she ultimately saw it more as a curse than a blessing.

Growing up, her mother, Gertrude wouldn't even

allow her to look at her own reflection,

discouraging her from looking in the mirrors as one

would a vampire.

Her looks might have helped her land roles

and navigate that beautiful, vain landscape of Hollywood,

but it didn't shield her completely

from the pitfalls of being a natural beauty in show

business.

In her 1966 autobiography, she called

her looks a curse, since her career revolved

so much around them.

However, this is from the same woman who, yes,

turned down the lead role in Casablanca,

so some poor career choices can't all be blamed on,

I was just too pretty.

Later in life, she fell into the stereotypical trope

of the aging actress choosing to go under the knife, rather

than age gracefully.

Lamarr received so many plastic surgeries,

she soon retreated from the public eye

and rarely went out in public.

She even declined to show up to receive an award recognizing

her scientific achievements, choosing instead

to accept the award over the phone, which is a weird way

to receive an award, but a great way not to leave your house.

Hedy Lamarr was not a fan of the Nazis.

But she was a big, big fan of getting married

Hedy was the Ross Geller of a group,

getting married and divorced five times in her lifetime.

After fleeing her first marriage to a guy who--

it can't be stressed enough--

loved Hitler, she would go on to marry four more

dudes in the next 26 years.

She finally hung up her veil and called

it quits in 1965, when her fifth and final divorce went through.

As her star began to dim in Hollywood

and audiences moved on to the next Jane Fondas and Jennifer

Anistons of the big and small screens,

Hedy turned to petty crimes to deal

with the rejection and loneliness

that comes from surviving international fame.

In January of 1966, she stole a variety of items

from a Los Angeles Department store

that were valued at a mere $86, an amount she surely

could have afforded then, even if today, would only

pay for parking.

When confronted by the security guard, Lamarr said in a panic,

other stores let me do it, which can only be assumed

was not the case, as shoplifting is and always has

been a frowned upon crime most stores discourage.

She would continue her crime ring

of stealing dumb things when she moved to Florida

and found herself embedded in a shoplifting scandal

after taking $21 and $0.48 worth of merchandise from a drug

store, or one variety pack of White Claw.

Again, this pioneering woman walked so Winona Ryder

could run away from the police.

So what do you think of Ms. Lamarr?

Let us know in the comments below, and while you're at it,

check out some of these other videos from our Weird History.