If you close your eyes and think of Veronica Lake, you see the "Peek-a-boo" girl. You see that heavy curtain of blonde hair falling over her right eye, the shimmering silver gowns, and that icy, untouchable film noir gaze. She was the woman who defined the 1940s, an icon so powerful the U.S. government literally asked her to change her hair because factory workers were getting theirs caught in machinery trying to mimic her.
But the Veronica Lake last photo doesn't look like that. Not even close.
By the time the early 1970s rolled around, the goddess of Sullivan’s Travels and This Gun for Hire was essentially a ghost living in plain sight. Most people think she just vanished after her career tanked in the late 40s. They imagine she stayed frozen in time. The reality is much grittier, a bit sadder, and honestly, way more human than the studio system ever allowed her to be.
The Woman Behind the "Peek-a-boo" Curtain
To understand those final images of her, you’ve gotta understand how much she hated being "Veronica Lake." She was born Constance Ockelman. She was a kid from Brooklyn who never really wanted to be a star. Her mother pushed her into it. Hard.
By her late 20s, Hollywood was done with her. They said she was "difficult." They said she drank too much. Maybe she did. But she also felt like a product, a mannequin with a specific haircut. When she finally left Hollywood, she didn't just retire; she escaped.
Fast forward to the 1960s. A reporter found her working as a cocktail waitress at the Martha Washington Hotel in New York. She was using a fake name. When the story broke, fans sent her money out of pity. She sent it all back. She had her pride, you know? She told people she liked the work. She liked being "normal."
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Looking for the Veronica Lake Last Photo: 1971–1973
There isn't one single "official" final paparazzi shot like we have for modern stars. Instead, we have a handful of images from her final two years that tell a story of a woman trying to reclaim her identity while her body was giving out.
The Jack Mitchell Portraits (1971)
One of the most striking sets of late-era photos came from photographer Jack Mitchell. He had actually photographed her way back in 1942 when he was just a teenager. In January 1971, they reunited.
Mitchell hosted a party for her in New York. The guest list was wild: Andy Warhol, Candy Darling, and the whole Factory crowd. They worshipped her as a camp icon. In these photos, she’s 48 or 49. Her hair is short—no more peek-a-boo. She looks sharp, thin, and world-weary. She’s wearing a simple dark outfit. There’s a specific photo of her with Warhol where you can see the contrast between the old Hollywood royalty and the new New York underground.
The Dick Cavett Appearance (1971)
If you want to see her "in motion" near the end, the Dick Cavett Show interview from 1971 is the closest thing to a living record. She was there to promote her autobiography, Veronica.
It’s a tough watch. She’s clearly struggling. Her speech is slow, almost hypnotic, and she seems disconnected. Some say she was drunk; others say it was the long-term effects of her battle with schizophrenia and the medication of that era. But she’s still there. She’s wearing a high-collared white dress, and her eyes still have that flicker of the old fire.
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The UK Move and the Final Year
Surprisingly, Lake spent a good chunk of her final years in Ipswich, England. She moved there in the early 70s, basically to get away from the American press. She even got married again—her fourth husband, a Royal Navy captain named Robert Carleton-Munro.
There are a few candid snaps from this era. She looks like a typical woman of the early 70s. She’s got the dated glasses, the sensible coats. She’d go to the local pub, the Thomas Eldred, and just sit and drink. Most people had no idea she used to be the biggest star in the world. She liked it that way.
The Final Days in Vermont
By June 1973, things took a dark turn. Her marriage in England collapsed after just a year. She flew back to the States, but she didn't go to New York or L.A. She went to Vermont.
She was traveling alone. She ended up at the Medical Center Hospital of Vermont in Burlington. She was suffering from acute hepatitis and kidney failure—the brutal, physical receipt of years of heavy drinking.
The Veronica Lake last photo in the public consciousness is often cited as a grainy, sad shot of her in a hospital-style setting or a candid taken by a fan shortly before she was admitted. She was only 50 years old. When she died on July 7, 1973, she was nearly penniless.
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Why These Photos Matter Now
There's a weird obsession with "last photos" of stars. We want to see the cracks in the mask. With Lake, the photos are a reminder that the "blonde bombshell" was a construction.
In her final images, she’s finally Constance again. She isn't posing. She isn't hiding behind a wave of hair. She looks like a woman who lived a thousand lives in fifty years and was just tired of the costume.
She once said, "I wasn't a sex symbol, I was a look symbol." The last photos prove she eventually won the battle against that look. She died on her own terms, far away from the cameras that made her famous and then discarded her.
How to Explore Her Legacy Today
If you're looking for the truth about her final years, don't just look at the tabloids. Here is what you should actually do to understand the woman behind the image:
- Read her autobiography: It's titled Veronica: The Autobiography of Veronica Lake. She wrote it with a ghostwriter (Donald Bain), and it’s surprisingly honest about her mental health and her disdain for the industry.
- Watch her final film: It’s a 1970 low-budget horror flick called Flesh Feast. It’s not "good" by traditional standards, but it’s the only chance to see her acting in her final era. She played a scientist using maggots to rejuvenate skin. It’s bizarre, but it’s 100% her.
- Look for the Jack Mitchell collection: His estate still manages the high-quality portraits from that 1971 New York party. They are the best "human" photos of her late life.
The story of Veronica Lake isn't just a tragedy about a girl who lost her beauty. It’s a story about a woman who spent the second half of her life trying to bury a character so she could finally just be herself. Even if that self was broken, it was hers.
Next Steps: You can find digital archives of the Jack Mitchell collection through major photography galleries to see the 1971 portraits in high resolution. If you're interested in her final days in Vermont, local historical archives in Burlington occasionally feature retrospectives on famous residents who passed through the state.