The Unruly Life of Woody Allen (45 page)

As he began reading the complete text of the decision, however, his shock turned to anger. How dare Elliort Wilk criticize the way he behaved with his kids. He hadn't always been a wonderful parent, but he wasn't so different from a lot of fathers. Besides, he believed that Wilk had never liked him. It would not have been surprising to hear that he had asked her for an autographed photo. But what most sickened Woody was Wilk's opinion that despite the New Haven report the evidence was inconclusive. Suggesting that the true circumstances were unknowable cast a shadow of doubt over the dismissal of the child-abuse charges. In Woody's mind, it was a sty message to the world that he probably was a child molester but there was no way to prove it.

If the decision seemed totally unreasonable to Woody, Elkan Abramowitz viewed it differently. For the media, he was swift to characterize the decision as a major victory. His client had done very well legally because he now could reestablish contact with his daughter, which was the thing he wanted most of all. Wilk's sniping about his deficiencies as a father was offensive but of little importance. The second matter of concern was Woody's reputation, and even though his good name had taken "an enormous hit," Abramowitz admitted,the molestation allegation had been absolutely disproved. "I don't think any one person could do more to prove that this did not happen," he said.

The March of Time:

"No one can mistreat Mia; she has developed her own special way of not being taken to the cleaners."

—Bette Davis, 1967

That night, Wilk's decision was the leading story on every New York local television news program. Woody did not watch the television coverage. As was his habit every Monday night, he got dressed and prepared for the twenty-block drive to Michael's Pub, where he would not have to speak, only play his clarinet. Afterward, he would come home and go to sleep early. Even though his name was being mentioned on every television and radio show in the nation, he saw no reason to change his routine.

Elkan Abramowitz did not turn on his TV set, either. He and his wife, Susan, were entertaining at their home in suburban Sands Point. Arriving home at seven o'clock, he showered and changed into shorts, then sat down on the screened-in porch to a dinner of grilled salmon, roasted potatoes with rosemary, and cholesterol-free pound cake with berries. There was no talk of the day’s events. Finally, a poker-faced Abramowitz brought up the subject to their dinner guest, Alex Witchel, a
New York Times
reporter who was writing a profile of the couple. "Custody went to Mia," he remarked tersely to Witchel. "There will be visitation within six months with Dylan. And the judge encouraged Moses to visit with Woody." Abramowitz was clearly not eager to comment on Wilk's unflattering description of his client.

In the offices of Rosenman & Colin at 575 Madison Avenue, the mood was delirious. During the trial, Eleanor Alter had frequently reminded Mia that she could pick and choose winning cases, and she had agreed to represent her. Later she said that after twenty-eight years in practice and some two thousand divorce cases, Woody's conduct toward Mia and the children remained the most shocking. "Why did he bring a custody proceeding? He never spent a night alone with them, couldn't name one of their friends, nor a pet nor a doctor." In addition to her promise of victory, she had also predicted Woody would be ordered to pay Mia's legal fees, which were estimated in excess of a million dollars.

At noon, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Mia huddled around a conference table in Alters office with her lawyer to read the judgment. She gasped when she heard Judge Wilk's low opinion of Woody as a parent. Then, as she and Kristi Groteke, who had accompanied her to the lawyers office, were eating a lunch of poached salmon and avocado salad they had picked up at a cafeteria downstairs in the building, Alter reminded them that a press conference was about to begin. Rosanna Scotto from
Fox Five News
and Carol Agus from
Newsday
were already waiting in the conference room. Mia sent Kristi back to Mia's apartment to pick up a change of clothes—a skirt and blazer— and her makeup. When it was time to face an armada of cameramen, her hair was fluffed, her makeup flawless. In her moment of triumph, she radiated happiness. "For so many, many months, my family has been living through a nightmare,*' she said tearfully. "My children have been ripped apart emotionally." Her indirect reference to her children's turmoil, psychological damage which might prove permanent, suggested to some reporters that she had won a Pyrrhic victory. But in her jubilation, she quickly passed over the shadows. "I'm so proud of how they've held themselves together, stood by one another and stood by me."

That night at Mia's apartment, there was no celebration among her children. In the living room, Daisy, Moses, and Kristi Groteke leafed through Fletcher's senior yearbook from Collegiate School, from which he would graduate in two weeks. In the bathroom, eighteen-month-old Isaiah was playfully throwing his toys into the toilet. Dylan and Satch, who had school the next day, went to bed early after watching television. Later, dressed in a slinky black baby-doll dress designed by Betsey Johnson, Mia celebrated at dinner with William Goldman, a screenwriter
(Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid)
whom she was dating.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Second Law of Thermodynamics

Two days after Judge Wilk's decision, Eleanor Alter filed a motion in Surrogate's Court asking Judge Renee Roth to overturn Woody's adoptions of Dylan and Moses, in effect reversing her 1991 decision to permit the adoptions. It was clear Woody had committed fraud, Mia's attorney contended. He was sleeping with Soon-Yi long before the adoptions, "a tact both had freely admitted at first, but that they now denied under oath." In her heart, Mia had no doubt whatsoever that both of them were lying. Judge Wilk's restrictions did not go far enough to suit her or Eleanor Alter, who wanted to sweep Woody completely from the lives of Mia and her children. 'Hell hound them as long as he has legal rights," Alter said. "He has the money and the power." Judge Roth was given phone bills showing hundreds of calls between Woody and Soon-Yi in 1990 and 1991. A raft of witnesses swore under oath to seeing the couple together, including the paparazzo Dominick Conde, who submitted a print of his famous hand-holding picture—the Rosetta Stone of Woody's guilt and a key piece of evidence. Alter believed. After hearing all (he witnesses. Surrogate Roth seemed reluctant to reverse her earlier position. Sympathetic to Woody, she continued to skirt the issue of fraud and requested additional hearings. Eventually, facing the financial choice of sending her children to college or continuing the warfare, Mia decided to drop the matter.

Although he was loath to admit it publicly, Woody was emotionally drained by the prolonged custody battle. Jean Doumanian suggested that people send him messages of encouragement because he was feeling downcast, convinced that the whole world hated him. Among those who responded was Jean's friend Stephen Silverman, who wrote to reassure Woody that he would be remembered for his work, not for the scandal. Silverman received "a lovely little note thanking me," he recalled.

With others Woody was less courteous. His behavior was nobody's business, he said to a
Rolling Stone
writer, and what people know, "they know tenth hand from tabloid newspapers," he bristled. When he dined at Elaine's, he squeezed past the long smoky bar to his special table, acting as if nothing had happened. Whenever he spoke of the custody case, he described it as "a pain in the ass." Suggestions from the
Rolling Stone
reporter that his audiences might turn against him provoked an outburst. "I don't care," he retorted. If people wanted to see his movies, "fine. If they don't, they won't." People had no notion of what he was really feeling. "I do what I want, and they can take it or leave it."

That summer, far from doing what he wanted, he found himself battling helplessly for crusts. Judge Wilk had given him the right to see Satchel, but this proved easier said than done because Mia made it as difficult as possible. In July, she departed for Ireland with Dylan, Satch, Tarn, and Isaiah. She was costarring with Natasha Richardson and Joan Plowright in
Widows Peak,
a dark comedy of revenge that was being filmed in the green hills of County Wicklow and at Ardmore Film Studios in Bray, about an hour south of Dublin. Knowing Ireland well, Mia looked forward to reunions with her aunts and cousins and a peaceful summer. She no doubt also counted on putting an ocean between Satch and his father. But, as she shortly discovered, she had misjudged Woody's determination. In mid-August, accompanied by Soon-Yi and armed with a court order, he arrived in Ireland to visit his son. News photos taken of them at the Dublin Zoo showed Woody in his fishing hat carrying the pouting five-and-a-half-year-old blond boy, as if Satch were an infant or an invalid. Even after his father bought him ice cream, he continued to look anxious. Because Wilk had forbidden Soon-Yi to be present during the visits, she stayed out of sight.

In Ireland Satch no longer answered to the name of Satchel, or Harmon, or Sean. He wanted to be known as Seamus, but Woody was riled by this rigamarole and refused to cooperate in what he perceived to be another one of Mia’s tactics to obliterate his presence in their lives. Mia tried to justify these renamings by maintaining that Satchel's classmates, making fun of the name "Satchel," called him a suitcase. But in truth there was no lack of precedent for the transformations. In addition to Misha/Moses, Daisy, who was originally named Summer Song, received her new name after Mia played Daisy Buchanan in
The Great Gatsby,
and subsequently Summer Songs sister, who was originally called Kym Lark, was renamed Lark. In the Farrow household, even the pets assumed new names, with the dog sometimes being called Maggie and the cat at other times. Woody took comfort from the fact that Satch's and Dylan’s new names weren't legal, but he still thought the changes were "the stupidest thing in the world." Obviously, the man who was known to the world as "Woody Allen" had forgotten about reinventing himself at age fifteen when he had changed his name from Allan Konigsberg.

Moving Pictures

Sally: It's the second law of thermodynamics: Sooner or Later everything turns to shit.

—Husbands and Wives
1992

In the meantime, Frank Maco, the Litchfield County prosecutor, was winding up his fourteen-month investigation. On September 24, 1993. Maco held a news conference in Wallingford, Connecticut, to announce that he was dropping the sexual-molestation charges against Woody. Next, in a curious turn of events, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, he added what seemed almost an afterthought, in his opinion, he said matter-of-factly, there was no question that Dylan Farrow had been molested. There was persuasive evidence to prove his case in court and an arrest warrant for Woody had been drawn up, but he had decided not to pursue the case in order to spare Dylan the trauma of a criminal trial. "This was no time for a damn-the-torpedoes prosecutorial approach," he declared.

Making such a statement—a man is guilty but would not be prosecuted— was an unusual step. Maco was certainly not obligated to make public his reasoning. In his defense, however, he said that he fell compelled to explain his decision to constituents who might assume Woody Allen got preferential treatment as a celebrity. In fact, like Paul Williams, he genuinely believed that Woody Allen, celebrity or no celebrity, had a case to answer. And unlike Elliott Wilk who, uncertain of the directors guilt, doubted that he could be prosecuted, Frank Maco apparently believed he could be successfully prosecuted.

Understandably, Woody was upset by Maco's branding him a child molester. Although the New Haven group had cleared him of any wrongdoing, the prosecutors impromptu postscript left him, in effect, stigmatized without the benefit of a trial. Woody believed that Maco's disinclination to credit the Yale-New Haven findings had an insidious ripple effect that must have influenced Judge Wilk and adversely affected his chance of winning custody of the children. (Maco had faxed copies of his statement to Wilk and Rence Ruth, who were ruling on both visitation rights and on a motion to annul the adoptions, a questionable action, and one that had a prejudicial effect on the case, in Woody's opinion.

Evidently Frank Maco had touched a nerve because Woody swiftly called a news conference the same day. Losing his customary cool, he characterized Mia and Maco as "a vindictive mother and a cowardly, dishonest, irresponsible states attorney" whose "cheap scheming reeks of sleaze and deception." For a half hour he let loose in front of a packed house at the Plaza Hotel, coincidentally the same room where he had announced his custody suit the previous summer. Clutching a prepared typed statement, he kept his head down as he delivered a rambling, incoherent speech against Mia and Maco, who "squirm, lie, sweat, and tap-dance" to protect themselves. Maco, he charged, disliked his movies. Or perhaps it was chauvinism that motivated the Litchfield County prosecutor. He was "prejudiced against me because I'm a diehard New Yorker and Ms. Farrow a Connecticut local."

In a bizarre finale, he suddenly lifted his head and stared purposefully into the television cameras. "Because this is being taped, I want to send a message to my little girl," he said. He was sorry to have missed her eighth birthday "but they just wouldn't let me do it." Dylan must not worry, however, because "the dark forces will not prevail." All the "second-rate police," "publicity-hungry prosecutors," the tabloid press, all the "pious or hypocritic or the bigoted" who had rushed to judgment would be punished. "I'm too tough for all of them put together, and I will never abandon you to the Frank Macos of the world." Three weeks later, he filed an ethics complaint with Connecticut's State Criminal Justice Commission, the body that appoints state's attorneys and can also reprimand or dismiss them. He demanded that Maco be disbarred for professional misconduct. Prosecutors are seldom held accountable for their professional conduct, but numerous legal experts agreed that Woody had sufficient cause for grievance. Woody's complaint against Maco failed to bother Eleanor Alter, however, who darkly hinted that "if Woody puts Maco in a position of having to divulge what he has, he won’t be happy." As a result of the complaint, the Litchfield County prosecutor was suspended from trying cases. By the time the suit was settled four years later, it had cost the Connecticut taxpayers a quarter of a million dollars to defend Maco against Woody's allegations.