How to Be a Movie Star (23 page)

The magazine's publisher was Robert Harrison, a flamboyant playboy who drove white Cadillacs and wore white alpaca coats, and whose other publications included the girlie magazines
Titter, Wink,,
and
Flirt.
In fact, many of the girls from Strip City, possibly even Jennie and Verena, had posed for Harrison. But it was
Confidential
that sent the publisher's fortunes skyrocketing. By 1955, midway through a decade that aggressively celebrated and promoted conventional values, the scandal rag was selling four million copies a month. For all the power wielded by Hedda and Louella, the columnists were, after all, dedicated to the advancement of the industry; they happily promoted its necessary fictions. In Burbank, even as Jennie was tattling to
Confidential,
Warner Bros. publicists were busy preparing a mock column for Dorothy Manners, Louella Parsons's assistant and frequent Hearst substitute columnist. They made sure to include all of the talking points they wanted to pass on about Elizabeth and
Giant.
"The progressive coming of age of a violet-eyed, twenty-four-year-old mother of two named Elizabeth Taylor is a topic that has occupied Hollywood almost constantly," the studio wrote. "It will perhaps come as a surprise to many that in
Giant
... Elizabeth emerges as an actress of great range and power." When Manners's column appeared in print, much of the Warners wording was left intact. Making a busy columnist's job easier was one of the studios' most effective tricks of the trade.

But
Confidential
and its copycats—
Top Secret, Whisper, Uncensored, Private Lives,
and others—heralded a new and very different kind of Hollywood press. Here the studios' much-vaunted publicity machine broke down. Their elaborate mythmaking—with their mimeographs and scripted interviews and ready-to-go columns—was challenged by the rise of the scandal magazines. "What
Confidential
proved," wrote
Time
correspondent Ezra Goodman, "was that there was too much pallid, punches-pulled reporting elsewhere and the average, untutored reader was probably wise to it and instinctively knew he was being hornswoggled. He undoubtedly realized that
Confidential,
in its own way, was giving him a glimmer of truth."

Harrison was based in New York, so he set up his niece, Marjorie Meade, as head of Hollywood Research, Inc., an information-gathering service that kept Los Angeles private detectives working overtime. These sleuths and spies were the doppelgängers of Hollywood's press agents, evil twins who undid all of their good brethren's hard work. Instead of building up the stars,
Confidential
was dedicated to tearing them down, "to flipping over the rock of the sleepytime Eisenhower '50s and showing the creepy stuff underneath," according to the son of its editor. In due course, Tab Hunter's lewd-conduct arrest with other "limp-wristed lads" was unearthed and exposed; the sexual adventures of Maureen O'Hara and Dorothy Dandridge were revealed; and the private companionship of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, discreetly ig nored by the mainstream press, was sensationalized. At the eleventh hour, a story exposing Rock Hudson as gay was killed in a quid pro quo deal with Hudson's powerful agents, exchanged for a story about Rory Calhoun's criminal past—and likely a considerable chunk of hush money as well.

Rats, stool pigeons, hookers, pimps, and strippers could earn ten grand or more by passing on dirt to
Confidential
's spies, who were everywhere. It's not surprising that the magazine's editor, the alcoholic, goofball-popping Howard Rushmore, had gotten his start as an assistant to Senator Joseph McCarthy and had testified as a friendly witness before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Rabidly anti-Communist, Rushmore actually thought that McCarthy wasn't tough enough on subversives; none of that kind of mollycoddling would be allowed in the pages of
Confidential.

It was in the middle of September, just before Elizabeth came down with the bad cold that had turned into bronchitis, that the November issue of
Confidential
hit the stands with Wilding's little party headlined across the front cover: when liz Taylor's away, mike will play. "There are millions of red-blooded hubbies in this world who think they'd be as faithful as the rock of Gibraltar—if they had the right wife," the article read. "You're an exception to the rule if you never sat in a darkened theater watching the contours of Elizabeth Taylor and vowed you'd always be on time if you had
that
to come home to." But Wilding, the magazine implied, seemed to know something that the rest of the public didn't. "His high jinks program rolled into high gear within hours after Liz took a plane to Texas," the article continued, describing Wilding as unable to keep his hands off Verena Dale and mentioning his promise to her that she could be his girlfriend. Considering Hedda Hopper's allegations, these likely were exaggerations on the part of the informer, who, after all, wanted
Confidential
to feel that it was getting its money's worth. Wilding and Dale were probably more drinking buddies than anything else. Yet no matter how many details were true, the main thrust of the article was that not even Elizabeth Taylor was alluring enough to keep her man.

The "respectable" Hollywood press rarely acknowledged claims made by
Confidential,
but the industry was always abuzz with them. Copies of all the scandal rags were delivered hot off the press to the desks of every Hollywood producer, agent, and columnist. Hedda Hopper couldn't resist publishing a blind item. "A neighbor of Liz Taylor and Mike Wilding was so incensed over a recent story that appeared in a magazine that she's taking matters into her own hands," Hedda wrote. "If her method works, I'll tell you what she's done." Just what this neighbor had planned—a camera monitor?—is unclear, but Elizabeth couldn't have been pleased by the scuttlebutt. Her handlers at both MGM and Warners likewise must have been horrified by the implications of the
Confidential
story because it directly undercut their promotion of Elizabeth as a sexy star. If
she
couldn't keep her man happy, what woman could?

In private, Elizabeth's response to the article, all sources agree, was blasé. She "chalked it up to one of Michael's playful moods while under the influence," said James Bacon. Asked about it later by
Look
magazine, she commented, "Whether it's true or not, you can't let an article like that break up your marriage." But you
could
go to the hospital—which Elizabeth did about two weeks after the magazine hit the stands. The press made sure to note how Wilding was right at her side, attentive to her every need. Elizabeth's bronchitis seems to have come in handy for more than just leveling the playing field with George Stevens. It also distracted attention away from Verena Dale's red negligee.

But for all of her apparent open-mindedness about her marriage to Wilding, Elizabeth
was
distressed. The union had reached the end of its usefulness, and the tricky negotiations for extradition had begun. Elizabeth would admit that husband and wife had lived like "brother and sister" after the birth of Christopher. But that didn't imply a happy sibling relationship. Wilding recalled a "typical row." Relaxing after breakfast with the
Times
crossword, he was startled when his wife suddenly snatched the paper out of his hands, tore it in half, and lobbed it into the fireplace. "So much for you and your stupid games!" Elizabeth shrieked, trying to bait him into hitting her. "Go on, hit me, why don't you?" she shrilled. When he refused, she groaned, "If only you would. That would prove you are flesh and blood instead of a stuffed dummy!"

At twenty-three, Elizabeth was too young, too frankly carnal, to live like a sister to her husband. Hedda Hopper might have explained the lack of sexual passion one way, but later on Elizabeth blamed it on Wilding's epilepsy: "It does something to a man." No matter the reason, she was left frustrated by her sexless marriage. Her pals Rock Hudson and Monty Clift had tricks left and right, but she was expected to twiddle her thumbs while Michael worked out the crossword puzzle.

All that changed when she and Wilding headed off to Europe later that year.
Giant
was finally completed, and George Stevens was holed up in his darkroom with nearly 900,000 feet of film. Elizabeth was taking a much-needed holiday before starting
Rain-tree County,
and Wilding was playing a supporting part in the Arabic adventure
Zarak,
being filmed in India, Burma, and Morocco. The lead was the virile Victor Mature, the movies' broad-chested Samson, and Elizabeth seemed all too eager to play Delilah. She'd later tell Eddie Fisher, amid gales of laughter, how she and Mature carried on an affair right under Wilding's nose, sometimes in the very next room.

But Wilding may not have been entirely clueless. Even in far-off Morocco,
Confidential
had its spies, and the tale of when mike wilding caught liz taylor and vic mature in room 106 was splashed across the magazine's July 1956 issue. "Remember that stripteaser you had in my house," the scandal rag quoted Elizabeth as saying when Wilding opened the door, "and how silly you looked at 6
A.M.
dancing around with her G-string around your head? Well, snookums, you look just as silly now. So close the door before mama catches cold."

The dialogue, with its echo of Elizabeth's famous line in
A
Place in the Sun,
was likely pulled from the writer's imagination, providing
Confidential
with a terrific sequel to its original story. But the basic facts of the story are apparently true. One of
Confidential
's strengths, as revealed in the legal trials it would eventually endure, was the magazine's requirement that two unrelated affidavits, signed and notarized, had to back up any actionable allegation. At least two sources with direct knowledge of the goings-on in Room 106 would have had to vouch for the story. The
Confidential
machine was, in fact, nearly as expansive and well-oiled as those run by the studios. Nothing was printed without first being vetted by detectives.

The question remains: Who leaked this one? Although it certainly wasn't positive publicity for Elizabeth, the piece did effectively refute any aspersions cast on her allure by the first article. Might a friendly hand have been involved in passing along the information to the scandal magazine? "It wasn't unheard of to work with
Confidential
if [studios or press agents] thought they could get what they wanted," said Mark Miller. He suggested that Mike Todd—Broadway impresario, wide-screen projection pioneer, and Elizabeth's eventual third husband—may have been behind the
Confidential
story. Dick Clayton, too, had heard the rumor: Whether true or not, "it seemed plausible."

Certainly the flamboyant, risk-taking Todd had a history with the scandal magazine. A few months earlier he'd planted a story with
Confidential
about actress Kim Novak that, while superficially unflattering, ultimately helped her in her fight against her home studio, Columbia Pictures. But if Todd's fingerprints might also be found on the story about Elizabeth and Victor Mature, it suggests that the producer was involved in the star's life months earlier than has ever been reported. This is supported by the memory of Hank Moonjean, who believed that Todd began playing an important part in Elizabeth's life as early as May 1956.

"The full story of how [Elizabeth and Todd] met has never really been understood," said Susan McCarthy Todd, daughter-in-law of Mike Todd. And it hasn't just been the timing that has been obscured. As McCarthy Todd revealed, Elizabeth did not meet Mike through mere chance, as most accounts have stated. Rather, the introduction came through his assistant, a gregarious Irishman by the name of Kevin McClory. In the late winter or early spring of 1956, Elizabeth met McClory on the MGM lot; they quickly formed a bond. At the time, Todd was renting space at Metro to develop his Todd-AO projection process, so during the whole
Confidential
brouhaha he would have been only a few doors away. (Elizabeth would acknowledge that her first encounter with Todd was in the MGM commissary.) Susan McCarthy Todd thought that it was possible that her father-in-law had taken an interest in Elizabeth's career even by that point, and not just as a favor to McClory. "He saw her potential," she said, "and I think he liked [playing the starmaker]." If he'd gone out on a limb for Kim Novak, he'd certainly do the same for Elizabeth.

The star herself was probably unaware of Todd's efforts on her behalf, at least on the particulars. No doubt she wouldn't have been too thrilled about a story that called her an adulteress. Yet despite the negatives, the
Confidential
piece provided Mrs. Wilding with some public vindication over her "cheating" husband. Even more important, it reassured readers that Elizabeth Taylor was just as desirable as ever. Todd and his publicity team understood that the best results required Machiavellian methods. "You had to be shrewd, very shrewd," said Shirley Herz, one of the press agents who worked for Todd. "You used everything you had." If there were any fears that Wilding might use the adultery with Mature against Elizabeth in a divorce suit, they would have been negligible, since Elizabeth—using
Confidential's
first article as a basis—could have turned around and done the same thing to him.

This was the real significance of the scandal magazines. While four million people might read them monthly,
tens
of millions read Hedda, Louella, and their ilk in the daily newspapers and fan magazines. If the mainstream outlets could be convinced that even the muckrakers at
Confidential
now believed that Elizabeth had the upper hand against Wilding, that impression would play out in their coverage. Miller said that insinuations made by the scandal rags would "seep upward" to reach the bigger news outlets; any damage that Elizabeth's star reputation had sustained could now be canceled out.