by Mark Griffin
Both Nader and Miller felt that Hudson was in denial regarding the severity of his condition. At one point, Rock had snapped and said, “I don’t have AIDS! If I’m dying, it’s from liver cancer. I’ve known I’ve had it for ten years, for Christ’s sake! What is all this AIDS shit?”
Whether it was a refusal to face facts or a concerted effort to live life to the fullest, Rock decided that his trip to Europe was going to be about far more than an infusion of HPA-23. As he would be in France at the same time that the Deauville Film Festival was honoring George Stevens, Rock planned to attend the event and pay tribute to the Giant director. Hudson’s publicist, Dale Olson, also booked him on a London-based talk show.
In early August, Mark Miller reserved a two-bedroom suite for Rock and Ron Channell at the Ritz Hotel in Paris. They were booked for a month. As Ron had been kept in the dark regarding Hudson’s AIDS diagnosis, he would not be made aware of the experimental drug testing. In any conversations between Hudson and Miller that Channell might overhear, “story conferences” would become code for HPA-23 treatments. Several days before they departed for Paris, Hudson stopped off in New York, where he met with his business manager, Wallace Sheft, and his attorney, Paul Sherman.
After having conversations with Nader and Miller regarding “devising and bequeathing,” Rock decided to make significant changes to his will, which had been executed in August of 1981. In a codicil, Rock revoked an earlier bequest to Tom Clark, who was to have received all of Hudson’s personal and household furnishings as well as his automobiles, film library, and other tangible effects. The codicil would also override another section of the will, which authorized Clark to distribute items among friends of Hudson’s as well as any charitable organizations Clark deemed appropriate.
Other changes were made. Rock’s friend and former agent, Flo Allen, who had originally been named as another beneficiary, was removed from the will. Hudson disinherited any heir (namely his twelve cousins) who might be living at the time of his death. No provision was made for Rock’s adoptive sister, Alice Scherer Waier. George Nader was named the primary beneficiary of a trust Hudson established in 1974, with Mark Miller the next in line. Although Miller had hoped to have been named the executor of the will, that role would be assumed by Sheft, the head of a Manhattan-based accounting firm, who was also named trustee of the trust fund.
As Nader and Miller had been Hudson’s closest friends and confidants for over thirty years, to most observers it made sense that they would come first, especially since Rock and Tom Clark had gone their separate ways. And in the years since Sheft had taken over as Hudson’s business manager, he reportedly built up Rock’s estate to the point that it was worth an estimated $27 million, including some valuable real estate holdings. As the executor had to be an individual with the experience and expertise to handle such a complex estate, Sheft seemed like a logical choice. It all looked right on paper, but some of Rock’s other friends have expressed their doubts.
“I think they manipulated his will,” says film historian Robert Osborne, who had befriended Hudson years earlier. Osborne appeared to lay the blame on Miller, Nader, and Sheft. “I very much think so. That one group took over, because there was nobody around to call the shots on it. I mean, Tom Clark had left and it weakened his position. When he did come back, I think he only came back under conditions that were set for him to come back under. But there was nobody around to blow the whistle or protect Rock in any way. It’s heartbreaking because he was somebody that deserved to have protection. He never did anything mean—I don’t think—in his life. He wasn’t built that way.”
At least publicly, Tom Clark didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he had been shut out: “When Sheft told me that Rock had written a new will, eliminating me as his beneficiary, I shrugged it off. I was surprised but not devastated.” Clark even had a theory as to why Hudson had removed him. “I think that, because he believed Marc Christian was making threats, he anticipated that his estate would be the subject of litigation and by writing me out of the will, he was sparing me the hassle and ugliness he knew would be coming.”
As far as Marc Christian was concerned, this was yet another fantastic notion of Tom Clark’s. Even though staffers at The Castle remembered that Rock and Marc were barely communicating by this time, Christian said that not only were they talking but they had even discussed revisions to Hudson’s will: “I remember when Rock went to New York to do it. He said, ‘I’m going to go to New York. I’m going to change my will and get Tom out, because I could have a car accident and he’d get everything, and I hate the son of a bitch now.’”
Christian assumed that his name would replace Tom Clark’s in the amended will, even though Rock had never expressly said that would be the case: “He never sat me down and said, ‘I’m going to put you in my will,’* because he never talked about his money.”
In late August, Mark Miller wished Rock and Ron Channell a “successful business trip” before they boarded the Concorde to Paris. The day after landing, Rock had his first meeting with Dr. Dominique Dormont, one of the specialists at the Institut Pasteur, a biomedical clinic then at the forefront of AIDS research. Despite the fact that he had initially been told that he would have to receive injections at his hotel, Hudson instead met with Dr. Dormont at the Percy Military Hospital. After conducting a thorough physical, Dormont concluded that Rock was in the “middle stages of AIDS,” with a badly compromised immune system and Kaposi’s sarcoma lesions.
In order for the HPA-23 treatment to be completely effective, daily infusions were recommended. This would mean that Hudson would have to remain in Paris for approximately three months. Rock resisted this idea, citing professional commitments, but he did agree to a shorter course of treatment. “If Rock had agreed to stay in Paris for a long-term course, probably the disease would have stabilized,” says Dormont. “But he felt the work in films was more important. My impression was, he was thinking Rock Hudson couldn’t be killed by this virus.”
After he consulted with Dr. Dormont, Hudson’s UCLA specialist, Dr. Michael Gottlieb, phoned Mark Miller to say that he was “guardedly optimistic” about the possibility of delaying or arresting Rock’s condition once additional infusions had been administered. Though Rock reported that the treatments made him nauseated, by early September he had actually gained six pounds. He was surprised to find that he had plenty of energy and his spirits were given a lift as he showed Ron Channell around Paris, where he also happened to run into some old friends.
“I was on the street in Paris with a friend of mine named Toni Kaye, a dancer on The Carol Burnett Show,” Robert Osborne recalled. “We were walking around and ran into Rock. Now, Paris is not a small town, so to run into someone you knew struck me as the strangest thing in the world. I didn’t know this then, but he was actually marking time because he had appointments in Paris. This was a year before it came out that he had AIDS. So, he said, ‘What’s going on?’ We told him we were out buying food for a Mexican dinner. We were going to see Tom Jones, a publicist for Disney who was over there on a vacation with his wife. Rock said, ‘Oh my god, I haven’t seen Tom Jones for years. All my friends that I thought I’d be seeing here are not in town. I’d love to come to your dinner.’ And so he did. It turns out Olivia de Havilland came as well. The dinner went on for all hours, because it was quite a drinking group. We laughed and he had the best time. When I found out later he was over there on this very serious matter, it struck me even more about what a complicated time in his life that was and how good for him it was to have that evening with old friends. Because after that, things were pretty grim for Rock Hudson.”
In late September, Rock phoned Mark Miller from Paris. Hudson brought his old friend up to date on his recent adventures with Ron Channell. Miller then inquired how Hudson was feeling. “Oh, so so . . .” Rock had attempted to sound upbeat and untroubled, but his tone clearly said otherwise. After they hung up, Miller began sobbing uncontrollably. When James Wright, who w
as working nearby, asked what the trouble was, Miller blurted out, “Rock has AIDS. The boss is gonna die.” James comforted Mark and pledged to tell no one about Hudson’s diagnosis. Wright then assured Miller that he would stay on and help in any way that he might be needed.
After Rock had received several HPA-23 treatments, Dr. Dormont informed him that tests revealed that the AIDS virus was no longer present in his blood. Dormont stressed that although the virus had been temporarily sidelined, Hudson still had the disease. Nevertheless, Rock seemed to hear only what he wanted to—that the virus was no longer present. Hudson may have misinterpreted this as having been given a clean bill of health. “He was a little too optimistic,” recalled Dr. Dormont. “He did not feel AIDS would be fatal to him. If he had taken his disease seriously, he would have stayed longer in Paris, but he didn’t want to . . . He was not afraid of dying. Perhaps for him it was not so important to prolong his life, I don’t know. He never talked about life and death.”
* * *
If, by the early 1980s, America was experiencing the worst recession since the Great Depression and nine million people were unemployed, Aaron Spelling was having none of it. The producer’s primetime soap opera, Dynasty, which launched in 1981, attempted to heal the national psyche by peddling luxury porn to the masses. Featuring a main title sequence in which oil flowed as freely as vintage champagne, Dynasty may have been totally divorced from reality, yet at the same time it was perfectly in sync with the Reagan-era 1980s. At the White House, a first lady outfitted in Galanos ball gowns was hosting lavish state dinners served on Lenox china, which reportedly cost $1,000 per setting.
On the set of Dynasty, things were no less deluxe. “There was no such thing as a plastic flower on that show,” says assistant director John Poer. “If you ever saw flowers on the set of Dynasty, they were real. Aaron Spelling insisted on this. It was his opinion that if Joan Collins was playing a scene in a room filled with the best crystal and china, it would all feel real—to her, to the crew, to the audience.” Real being a relative term, of course.
As created by Richard and Esther Shapiro, Dynasty’s storylines were brimming over with such melodramatic excess—extortion plots, catfights, murder trials, Moldavian massacres—that the show frequently bordered on self-parody. But just try to look away. By the mid-1980s, Dynasty occupied the number one spot in the Nielsen ratings, with over twenty million homes tuning in to witness the travails of oil tycoon Blake Carrington (John Forsythe), his beautiful but long-suffering wife, Krystle (Linda Evans), and Blake’s ex-wife, a fur-draped master manipulator named Alexis (Joan Collins).
The three leads were supported not only by several photogenic newcomers but also a bevy of guest stars—one-time A-listers like Ali MacGraw, George Hamilton, and Diahann Carroll—whose careers were in need of resuscitation. However, Spelling had set his sights on the one star who could do as much for Dynasty as the show could do for him—Rock Hudson.
With the series heading into its fifth season, it seemed the perfect time to spice things up by giving Krystle Carrington an extramarital love interest. This would keep viewers hooked while the presence of a legendary leading man would bring some Golden Age glamour to primetime. There was only one problem. The legend in question couldn’t be bothered.
Spelling used all of his wiles to get Hudson to commit to at least a dozen appearances—there were power lunches, discussions about a spin-off series, and promises of countless star perks. Much to the producer’s dismay, Rock seemed neither interested nor impressed. For once, the workaholic star had more on his mind than his career. Nevertheless, while Hudson was in Paris, starting his HPA-23 treatments, Spelling and his collaborators continued to pursue him. Dynasty creator Esther Shapiro had no idea why Rock was in France, though she followed him over, intent on persuading him to join the cast of her show.
Shapiro said, “Please don’t feel pressured because I’ve flown all this way. I’ve heard no before.” Finally, Hudson flashed his megawatt smile in Shapiro’s direction. “What the hell, maybe I’ll just do it.” Aaron Spelling sweetened the deal when he agreed to pay Rock $100,000 per episode. Even so, Hudson would only agree to appear in seven shows and not the twelve that the producers had been pushing for.
In the fall of 1984, the trades announced that Hudson had been cast as wealthy rancher Daniel Reece. One episode called for Reece to kiss Krystle Carrington during a passionate embrace. Upon reading the script, Rock was horrified. At the time, it hadn’t yet been determined if the HIV virus could be transmitted through open-mouth kissing. With the welfare of actress Linda Evans in mind, Hudson tried to think of ways to “work around” the kiss.
On the day the sequence was shot, Rock’s restraint seemed to backfire. “I remember that the director at the time was concerned that he wasn’t kissing Linda Evans forcefully enough,” says assistant director John Poer. “There was a conversation about whether he should attempt the kiss again, only with much greater enthusiasm.”
Though the producers insisted on reshooting the sequence, Hudson still held back. “In retrospect, it was incredibly touching how hard he tried to protect me,” says Linda Evans. “No matter how much the director and producers pressed, he refused to put me at risk.”
When Rock’s Dynasty debut aired in December of 1984, the dramatic change in Hudson’s appearance was startling to the millions who tuned in to see him mix it up with the Carringtons and the Colbys. Painfully thin and prematurely aged, Hudson looked haggard and depressed in his scenes. “I asked him if the cameraman was mad at him because he looked so awful on screen,” Marc Christian recalled. “He looked like a walking cadaver . . . He said other than having the flu, he was fine and he was satisfied with the way he looked.”
The notorious kissing sequence, which aired a couple of months later, was also cause for concern. “Perhaps it’s my imagination, but Linda Evans looked terrified under a cement mask of placid resignation,” observed George Nader. In the version of the scene that was broadcast, Hudson’s discomfort is palpable as he chastely grazes Evans’s lips. “Room-temperature passion,” is how columnist Michael Musto termed the most noncommittal kiss in screen history.
* * *
What do I do? The voice on Mark Miller’s answering machine sounded frantic. It was Ron Channell, calling from Paris, desperately seeking Miller’s advice. Channell had accompanied Rock to Paris in late July of 1985. Initially, the plan was for Hudson to resume HPA-23 treatments but even prior to landing, it became clear that Rock was beyond experimental testing. During the harrowing transatlantic flight, a ravaged and exhausted Hudson slipped in and out of consciousness. Once Channell managed to check them into the Ritz Hotel, Rock collapsed. This prompted the call to Miller, who in turn called Hudson’s Los Angeles–based physician. Channell was instructed to rush Hudson to the American Hospital. Within days, conflicting statements were issued regarding his condition.
“My official statement is that Rock Hudson is in the American Hospital in Paris, where his doctors have diagnosed that he has cancer of the liver and that it is not operable,” publicist Dale Olson announced. A day later, Bruce Redor, spokesman for the American Hospital, denied this: “As far as we know, that report is false, and it certainly wasn’t given by the doctors at the American Hospital in Paris.” Olson then told the Associated Press, “What I know is what I said before. I’m trying to reach the people in Paris to find out what’s going on.”
As the speculation surrounding the real nature of Rock’s illness continued, network news shows and cable channels continuously aired images from a July 16 press conference, where Hudson joined Doris Day to announce the launch of Doris Day’s Best Friends, a pro-animal series which was to begin airing on the Christian Broadcasting Network. At that point, Hudson was in no condition to be making public appearances and everyone around him, including Dale Olson, advised against it. “I said, ‘Rock, you look terrible,’” Olson remembered. “He said, ‘I need to do this for Doris.’” Even in his debilitated state, Hudson
wasn’t about to let down his beloved costar.
As media interest in Rock’s condition intensified, Mark Miller arrived in Paris. When he first saw Hudson in his hospital bed, Miller was devastated. “When I entered the room, I knew he was going to die. Before Paris, I thought he could turn it around, but when I saw him in that room, I knew.” Rock asked, “Where’s Ron?” Though it was difficult, Miller told him the truth, “I shipped him home on the Concorde this morning to New York.” There were concerns that if Channell remained in Paris, he would be falsely tagged “the last lover” by the tabloids. A despondent Rock muttered, “I knew he’d desert me when the chips were down.” After a few moments of silent reflection, Hudson then told Miller, “It’s going to be a real mess and I’m sorry. You’re going to be put through hell and I apologize.”
Mark began to cry, but he managed to hide this from Rock by walking over to the window and pulling the shades partially closed. When he was able to speak, Miller said, “There are photographers on the roof trying to get a shot of you.”
“MR. ROCK HUDSON has Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome,” Rock’s friend and French publicist Yanou Collart announced to the press corps gathered outside the American Hospital of Paris on July 25. “He came to Paris to consult with a specialist in this disease. Prior to meeting the specialist, he became very ill at the Ritz Hotel.” As cameras flashed and clicked away, Collart confirmed that Hudson had been diagnosed as having the disease a year earlier.
