by Mark Griffin
Dialogue that may have tripped off the tongue of Tyrone Power sounded stilted and unnatural when spoken by Rock Hudson. What’s more, Rock’s Midwestern twang would simply not give way to an English accent. As a result, Hudson’s character, the very British Captain Jeffrey Claybourne, sounds as though he received his military training in Great Lakes, Illinois. As far as Rock was concerned, the only good thing that emerged from Bengal Brigade was his lifelong friendship with costar Arlene Dahl.
“When we were on the set, we got along like sister and brother,” Dahl says. “He had a great sense of humor and I like to think I do, too. We just had a great time, although Laslo Benedek, our director, was Hungarian and very ‘Achtung!’ about everything. You know . . . Do this. Do that. Like a drill instructor . . . I remember Rock and I had a long talk about where he came from and where he wanted to go and I said, ‘If you want to be a big star, and you can, Rock, you’ve got to take the acting seriously and study with somebody.’ I had a wonderful coach and I told him about her. I don’t know if he went to see her or not, but he really started taking his career seriously after we made Bengal Brigade.”
As Rock continued working on his latest picture, Universal’s publicity department was flooded with requests for interviews. After the release of Magnificent Obsession, the public suddenly had an insatiable interest in all things Rock Hudson. Even respected news outlets succumbed to what had been termed “Rock Fever.” Feature-length articles were devoted to scrutinizing Hudson’s dietary habits (“Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor is a good cook, broils a spectacular steak”) and wardrobe preferences (“He likes single-breasted suits, wears wool socks the year round”). The fan magazines also made an issue of his bachelorhood. Modern Screen ran a photo of Hudson, which suggested that the unattached actor was being hunted down as though he were an escaped convict: “Wanted! Evading Wedlock: Rock Hudson. Description: 6'3 [sic], 197 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes . . . has always made clean get-a-way before being taken to the altar.”
In just a few short years, he had gone from being a barely visible bit player to an instantly recognizable movie star. Now that he was in the spotlight, Rock realized that he had to be extremely careful. If he said something, it would be quoted. If he did something, it might wind up in a column. If he was having a fling with a male costar—as he reportedly was during the making of Bengal Brigade—he had to continually watch his back. All of the unrelenting pressures that came with Hudson’s newfound stardom, coupled with the stress of having to conceal any gay liaisons, made for one incredibly anxious leading man.
“I noticed that he was biting his nails all the time,” says Arlene Dahl. “So, I thought, ‘Well, we can’t have this.’ I said, ‘You can’t bite your nails, Rock. They’re down to the nub. You’re a star now. People are going to notice.’ He said, ‘Oh, I want to stop.’ I said, ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Every day on the set, you’ll present your nails to me and I’ll give you a star if you haven’t bitten them overnight.’ So, every day, Rock presented his nails to me and he absolutely stopped biting them. He really earned the sterling silver mug that I gave him.”
If only the critics had been as kind. Reviewing Bengal Brigade in the New York Times, Bosley Crowther found it no better than run-of-the-mill: “There is nothing remotely original in this straight assembly-line color film—which is probably as intended, since it appears to be aimed at the double-bill trade . . . Rock Hudson performs the injured captain in a handsome, emotionless way.”
IN THE SUMMER of 1954, Rock found himself with two weeks free before shooting began on his next film, Captain Lightfoot. As the movie would be the first ever shot entirely on location in Ireland,* Hudson knew that the European setting would provide him with an opportunity to do something he had always wanted to do—tour the continent.
Even though Rock was ostensibly on vacation, Universal kept close tabs on him and the studio issued a flurry of press releases documenting his every move. Once Hudson reached Italy, there were almost daily dispatches issued, alerting Hudson’s fans that he was gorging on Neapolitan pizza whenever he wasn’t making the rounds of the Florentine museums. One columnist noted—presumably with a knowing wink—that Hudson had been completely “mesmerized” by Michelangelo’s David.
In fact, all of Rome made such a favorable impression that the thought of eventually having to return to Universal’s backlot seemed wholly uninviting. By late June, yet another update was announced: “Rock Hudson was so captivated by Italy in a pre-shooting trip there, that he asked Universal-International for a year’s leave so he can take up residence in Rome.” Rock’s plan was that upon completion of Captain Lightfoot in August, he would return to Italy.
The official reasons cited were that Hudson wanted to attend the Venice Film Festival as well as resume his sightseeing. Of course, the real reason Rock wanted to spend more time in Italy was never going to find its way into one of U-I’s press releases.
At some point during his grand tour, Hudson had been introduced to a strikingly handsome Italian actor. By some accounts, Rock’s affair with the young man would endure, on and off, for a number of years, overlapping with some of Hudson’s other relationships. For years, the actor’s identity has been the source of much speculation. In various memoirs, a number of clues have been dropped. The actor in question was described as having “a deeply tanned face and bleached hair.” He typically wore a silk suit and was said to be a close friend of the actress Anna Magnani. When presented with these leads, one of Rock’s other boyfriends cracked, “Jesus, that describes just about every actor in Rome.”
In recent years, one writer claimed that he had actually interviewed the mystery man and that his name was “Massimo.” As a result, unsubstantiated rumors circulated that it was the late Massimo Girotti, who starred in Ossessione, an unauthorized Italian version of The Postman Always Rings Twice. Others have suggested that “Massimo” was actually the late Massimo Serato, who appeared in The Naked Maja and fathered a child with Magnani. Yet, the author who interviewed “Massimo” said that the actor died in Paris at the age of sixty-nine in 2002. This seemed to leave both Girotti (who died in 2003) and Serato (who passed away in 1989) out of the running.
In 2017, the same author who claimed to have interviewed “Massimo” announced that he was finally terminating the suspense by publishing a rare photo of Rock Hudson’s Italian paramour. A revelation it wasn’t. In the published image, the figure identified as “Massimo” is actually the non-Italian leader of the Limerick Pipe Band, who loaned his busby to Hudson as they posed for photographers in June of 1954. Rock was in Limerick to promote Captain Lightfoot. The author not only disappointed with this bizarre “exclusive,” but in the photo caption, he even managed to misidentify Hudson’s costar, Barbara Rush, as “Barbara Hale.”
Whoever Rock’s Italian boyfriend really was, he made Universal’s publicity team extremely nervous. When Hudson and his lover were spotted out in public on several occasions, Rock’s studio figured that it wasn’t a bad time to dash off another press release, reminding everyone that their resident heartthrob had a real eye for the ladies: “Rock Hudson has resumed a romance, which began two years ago in England with Jill Clifford, London heiress . . . During time off from Captain Lightfoot, he flies to London every possible occasion to be with her. One of England’s prettiest girls, Jill has brown hair and blue eyes.”
The studio breathed a sigh of relief when Rock met up with his Lightfoot colleagues Barbara Rush and Betty Abbott in Paris. These were “safe” traveling companions and Hudson’s publicists could fully exploit his outings with two beautiful young women. The trio didn’t seem to care that every leg of their journey became fodder for the fan magazines. “Oh, we had great fun on that adventure,” says Betty Abbott Griffin. “We got caught in this bicycle race in the southern part of France. Then we went on a tour of Ireland, the three of us. We kissed the Blarney Stone and Barbara and I fell into the [stinging] nettle, which amused him no end. I just remember a
lot of laughter.”
After two weeks of seeing the sights, it was time for Hudson to report back to work on his latest production. Set during the Irish Rebellion of 1815, Captain Lightfoot chronicles the exploits of Michael Martin, a Robin Hood-ish revolutionary who robs from rich Englishmen and gives everything to poor Irish peasants. The charismatic rebel leader John Doherty, better known as Captain Thunderbolt, makes Martin his second-in-command. Thunderbolt tutors his young protégé in the fine arts: wall-scaling, bar brawling, and how to convincingly masquerade as an aristocrat.
Martin is not only blind with love for his country but also smitten with the beautiful but headstrong Aga Doherty, Thunderbolt’s daughter. Their newfound love is tested when Martin is arrested by the British and extradited back to his hometown of Ballymore, where he is ordered to stand trial. Assisted by his fellow patriots, Martin escapes from prison and resumes command of the rebel forces.
All of the elements were in place to ensure that Captain Lightfoot would triumph at the box office. Ross Hunter to produce. Douglas Sirk to direct. Technicolor. Cinemascope. Add to this the fact that budget-conscious Universal had taken the unusual step of greenlighting a production shot entirely on location.
Although Ross Hunter had gone to great lengths in terms of scrupulously preparing his latest production, one important detail had somehow been overlooked—the weather. “Most of it was shot in the rain,” recalled Douglas Sirk. “It came out handsomely, even though it was practically all shot in the drizzle.” Ireland’s unpredictable climate ultimately worked to the film’s benefit. “In Hollywood, you have a light which is really too strong, too splendid” said Sirk. “The constant change of light in Ireland in a way, matched the course of the story. The good are the bad and the bad are the good.”
As with many of Hudson’s later films, Captain Lightfoot features role-playing or impersonation as an important plot point. After Thunderbolt takes Michael Martin under his wing, he spruces him up, outfits him in the most elegant finery, and passes the once disheveled highwayman off as a purebred aristocrat.
More than likely, Rock didn’t play the title role with any degree of self-reflexive awareness, but it’s very likely that Douglas Sirk, who certainly knew the score about Hudson, nudged his leading man toward characters who are in the throes of an identity crisis. Whether it was Rock’s portrayals of sinner turned saint in Magnificent Obsession and Battle Hymn or the alcoholic newspaperman who yearns to be one of the aerialists he’s covering in The Tarnished Angels, Sirk understood that a character at odds with himself was one that Rock would connect with emotionally.
Sirk was also one of the first to recognize that there was a largely untapped side to Hudson’s talent. After watching the rushes of the pistol duel in which Captain Lightfoot demonstrates his lackadaisical attitude toward the proceedings by lighting up a cigar and shooting a scarecrow, the director realized that the sequence hinted at what was to come: “Hudson was playing comedy and I realized that his talents might lie there.”
Although the producer, director, and stars of Magnificent Obsession had all been reunited for Captain Lightfoot, the picture did not duplicate the blockbuster success of the earlier film. Still, the critics couldn’t help but notice that Rock seemed more natural on-screen than ever before. As the Los Angeles Times noted, “Hudson is developing some ability as an actor, except when his face falls into repose. Fortunately for him, there’s small time for that. [Captain Lightfoot] seethes with action—so much indeed, that after a while one begins to yearn for a little peace and quiet. One doesn’t get it.”
After the failure of Bengal Brigade, Universal’s advertising team did its best to sell Captain Lightfoot as a tender romance instead of a rollicking adventure. Posters for the film depicted Hudson embracing Barbara Rush against the wind-lashed moors. With both stars looking very contemporary, there was no indication that this was Rock’s second costume drama in a row. When Captain Lightfoot performed respectably but not sensationally at the box office, Hudson would find himself locked into a succession of romantic melodramas—not all of which were confined to the screen.
Chapter 7
Is Rock Hudson Afraid of Marriage?
If Rock Hudson was the boy next door, his future bride had to be a fresh-faced, all-American girl like Phyllis Gates. Some friends were convinced that the relationship was legitimate, while others insist that it was a carefully arranged corporate merger.
(Photo courtesy of Photofest)
Life proclaimed Rock “Hollywood’s Most Handsome Bachelor” when he became the magazine’s cover story on October 3, 1955. After informing readers that “Rock Hudson Gets Rich Alone,” it became obvious that promoting Hudson’s latest picture was not Life’s top priority. The editors immediately got down to business, laying it on the line in the first paragraph of their accompanying profile: “Fans are urging 29-year-old Hudson to get married—or explain why not.”
For years, columnists and fan club members had been asking themselves the same question: If “The Beefcake Baron” was such a terrific catch, how come he had never even been engaged? After all, Hudson was regularly photographed with some of the most beautiful ingénues in Hollywood on his arm. Surely one of these glamour girls was a suitable candidate for marriage? Well, maybe for some other lucky guy. As Rock gallantly pointed out, it wasn’t the ladies who were lacking in any way. It was him. Hudson’s demanding work schedule and his “traumatic breakup” with Vera-Ellen were typically cited as the reasons why the matinee idol remained “marriage shy.”
Even so, Henry Willson knew that the public and the press could be stalled for only so long. The drumbeat was getting louder and the pressure was on. Rock’s aversion to matrimony being examined in a mainstream magazine like Life was one thing, but a threatened Confidential exposé was another matter entirely. Fifty years before the advent of Access Hollywood and TMZ, Confidential magazine—which boasted a monthly readership of more than four million—dared to go where no other publication would. “Tells The Facts and Names the Names” read the catch phrase on the front cover.
Through the thinnest of veils, Confidential plied its readers with stories about Judy Garland’s drug dependency, Desi Arnaz’s extramarital affairs, and Robert Mitchum’s naked pool party shenanigans. More often than not, a Confidential exposé had some basis in reality. However, when the magazine’s informants weren’t able to come through with any juicy exclusives, the editors had no qualms about stretching the truth or fashioning one of their “uncensored and off-the-record” reports out of whole cloth.
“It Was The Hottest Show in Town When Maureen O’Hara Cuddled in Row 35 . . .” read one headline from March of 1957. According to Confidential, the actress engaged in a steamy interlude with a “south-of-the-border sweetie” during a screening at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. In the purplest of prose, the article described how O’Hara and her Latin lover were thrown out of the theatre after an usher “got the shock of his life.” The star of How Green Was My Valley was found “spread across three seats—with the happy Latin American in the middle seat.”
Up until this time, the press-shy O’Hara had steered clear of any scandal, but when the issue of Confidential detailing her alleged indiscretions hit newsstands, the story was even picked up by nationally syndicated columnists. “The descriptions of our alleged behavior were so lewd and obscene that they were talked about all over Hollywood,” O’Hara said. The widespread reaction to the story clearly demonstrated how destructive Confidential could be. With one salacious headline, an entire career could be wiped out. Thanks to the magazine and its latest “scoop,” Maureen O’Hara’s wholesome image was suddenly shattered.
As it turned out, “the facts” that Confidential regularly promised readers just didn’t add up in O’Hara’s case. Not only were the eyewitness accounts vague and contradictory, but O’Hara’s passport proved that she wasn’t even in the United States when the alleged incident supposedly occurred. The outraged actress sued Confidential for libel. Althoug
h O’Hara would ultimately be vindicated, the vicious gossip and lurid headlines the story generated were not the kind of publicity that any star wanted. Rock Hudson especially.
By the mid-1950s, Rock was finally where he wanted to be. After a long and grueling climb, all of his hard work and countless sacrifices were beginning to pay off. The previous year, Modern Screen had named him “The Most Popular Star.” And it wasn’t only magazine publishers and theatre exhibitors who were taking notice of his enormous popularity. The editors of Confidential had been waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on Hollywood’s white knight.
Confidential founder Robert Harrison decided it was time to expose Rock Hudson as a “Lavender Lad,” just as he had done a year earlier with Van Johnson (“The virile hero of the big muscle and the fierce embrace was a scared, lonesome boy locked in his secret”). The European tour that Rock had embarked on in 1954 had stirred Harrison’s interest. The publisher of Confidential knew that Hudson and Henry Willson had not only stayed in the same hotel, but that the two men had even shared a suite.
One of Harrison’s Hollywood tipsters kept him well informed regarding Henry’s antics, especially any escapades involving Willson’s platoon of B-list hunks. A fact not lost on the publisher of Confidential was that even with this eye-filling assortment at his disposal, Willson seemed to prefer the company of his star client. And now, the most popular scandal sheet in America would be sharing Rock and Henry’s carefully guarded secrets with the ticket-buying public.
Robert Harrison, whom Humphrey Bogart dubbed “The King of Leer,” freely admitted that his stock in trade was “sin, shame and suicides.” Confidential’s owner could always smell a good story and, in early 1955, he gave one of his top writers a plum assignment: Expose Rock Hudson. At first, the usual tricks were employed. Extras, bit players, and assistants were paid for whatever privileged information they might have. Hudson’s former roommate, Bob Preble, was offered $10,000 to talk. “Confidential approached me and wanted to do an exposure article on him,” Preble said. “‘We know this man is gay, Mr. Preble, and we’ll help fatten your wallet a little bit if you’ll tell us everything you know about this gay bird.’ But I turned them down. I said no.” As did Jack Navaar, who could have really used the money.
