The Hiltons: The True Story of an American Dynasty

by Taraborrelli, J. Randy

  “I’m afraid that your brother-in-law tried to harm himself,” the hospital employee told Pat. She caught her breath. “Would you please contact your husband for us?” she asked urgently.

  “Yes,” Pat answered. “Yes, I will.”

  Now quite shaken, Pat tracked Eric down in Dallas and gave him the upsetting news. They wondered why Nicky hadn’t called Trish, but didn’t know the answer to that question. Therefore, Eric immediately called Trish. He assured her that Nicky was fine and that he would give her more details as soon as possible. He then took a flight from Texas to California; he showed up at the hospital the next morning. It was then that Eric learned the shocking news that Nicky had slit his wrists. Eric would spend the week in Palm Springs, waiting for Nicky to be released. Then the two of them retreated to the Hilton vacation home, where Nicky tried to recover and come to terms with his desperate act. Once he got home to Beverly Hills, Nicky took his heated emotions out on the one person closest to him, and likely the one who cared the most for and about him—his devoted wife, Trish.

  “It’s difficult to describe how quickly things unraveled from there,” Trish Hilton recalled. “The suicide attempt shook up our whole world. I wanted him to understand how much he had to live for, how his family now was me and the kids, not so much Conrad and Barron. Little Conrad was seven, Michael was six. They needed their daddy more than ever. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Although her appeal to Conrad Hilton about the TWA merger had not worked, Trish still felt the need for his assistance. But first she called her friend Zsa Zsa Gabor to ask for advice.

  “Oh, my poor dear, didn’t I once tell you that Conrad would drive you crazy?” Zsa Zsa asked. “And it’s happened, hasn’t it?” Zsa Zsa noted that as he’d gotten older, Conrad had only gotten more stubborn. “And he is making us all crazier than ever, isn’t he?” she asked. “That old goat!”

  Trish had to admit it was true. But then again, everything going on right now was driving her out of her mind. She told Zsa Zsa that she still believed she could get through to Conrad and reach him in some nostalgic, tender place. She continued to hope that if he recognized the full truth about his son’s condition, he would take charge of Nicky and somehow get him back on track. After all, there was no one in the world Nicky respected more than his father, no matter their battles.

  “Then you must try again,” Zsa Zsa said. “You owe it to Nicky to do everything you can to save him.”

  “I will do whatever I have to do,” Trish affirmed. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “You are such a good wife,” Zsa Zsa concluded. “Sanks God for you. You’re a fighter, Trish, and I admire you. If you learn anything at all from me, learn this: Do not stop until you get exactly what you want. Period.”

  After talking to Zsa Zsa, Trish decided to call a strategy meeting at her home, bringing Conrad together with three of the doctors who had been treating Nicky: Dr. Judd Marmor and Dr. Rex Kennamer, both physicians, and Dr. Robert Buckley, a psychiatrist.

  The meeting took place in November 1967. Conrad, who would soon turn eighty, showed up in a natty black suit and tie. Everyone invited to the meeting took a seat in Trish’s tastefully furnished parlor.

  “I would say that Nicky has a fifty-fifty chance of surviving if he goes to a rehab facility,” said Dr. Kennamer, “and if he doesn’t, he has no chance of survival at all.” Conrad took a moment to let that upsetting news sink in, and then, with a very worried expression, asked the doctor to repeat himself. After he did, Conrad thought it over for a moment. “He’s forty-one, now, isn’t he, Trish?” he asked. Trish confirmed as much. Conrad then wondered aloud about the wisdom of having a meeting such as this one behind his back, as if he were a child. “Shouldn’t he be here too?” he asked.

  “He’s too sick,” Trish explained. “We’re here to find a solution to try to help him.”

  “I sometimes wonder if a man who doesn’t want help can ever actually accept it,” Conrad said, shaking his head in despair. “Rather reminds me of something my mother used to say,” he recalled. “She used to say, ‘You can’t drag a man kicking and screaming to his glory.’ ”

  “I tend to agree that sometimes that’s true, sir,” said Dr. Kennamer. “But if we can just settle on some course of action for Nicky, maybe we can help.”

  Conrad sighed deeply. He said he completely understood. However, he also explained that he had been dealing with the problem of Nicky for many years. “I’m a very old man now…,” he added, not finishing his sentence. Trish raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was the first time she had ever heard her father-in-law acknowledge his advancing years. In that moment, she suddenly saw the futility of having asked Conrad, a father who had already been through so much with his son, to come to some decision as to how to now deal with him. Now she was sorry she had even asked Conrad to attend the meeting. It was as if she had set him up to disappoint. Conrad looked at Trish helplessly. “You’re his wife, dear,” he said. “What is it you would like to do?”

  Trish looked down at the floor. “If not rehab,” she said, “maybe just a stay at Cedars.” She added that she believed Nicky would probably go to a hospital more readily than he would to another treatment facility.

  “Fine,” Conrad said as he rose. “I agree with that, then. You’ll speak to him, then, about doing it, won’t you, Trish? Thank you so much, gentlemen,” he added as he shook the hand of each doctor. He then spent a few moments talking with the doctors and thanking them for their help. Afterward, Trish accompanied Conrad out of the parlor into the entryway, where he retrieved his long wool coat, and then out the front door.

  Once outside, Trish noticed Conrad’s sleek black Cadillac idling in the driveway and, standing next to it, Hugo Mentz, in a distinctive chauffeur’s suit complete with cap. “I want to thank you again for everything you have done for Nicky,” Conrad said, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s nice to see you again, Trish,” he added as he embraced her. “Give those kiddies of yours a squeeze for me, will you?”

  It was while Trish’s arms were wrapped around Conrad that she noticed the brittle and sharp bones in his back. He felt so fragile to her, it was as if he would snap in two if she squeezed too hard. She had always viewed him as being so youthful and energetic; it had never occurred to her that the recent years had taken such a toll on him. Had she been so consumed by her own problems that she hadn’t even noticed that her father-in-law had aged so? Conrad had always been so strong and confident. The cruelties of aging had made him, in that moment, seem frail and isolated. It hit her as they stood in the driveway and hugged one another, the emotion in her coming forth so strongly it was all she could do to keep from crying. She suddenly realized that for all he had accomplished, he was alone. He had no wife. He had no companion. Of course, he had his children, but they were grown and had their own lives. He had worked hard for most of his life and had all the money in the world, but as he approached the end of his days, he stood before her old and alone. She had to wonder, what did it all mean? All of that success, all of those triumphs, all of the victories… and for what? With no one to care about him or worry about him the way she cared about and worried about Nicky, Trish suddenly felt sorry for Conrad. Her heart went out to him. “Take good care of yourself, Connie,” she told him as she broke their embrace. “Call us if you need anything, okay?”

  “Oh, you know me, dear,” Conrad said as he slowly eased himself into the backseat of the car. “I’ll be just fine.” The chauffeur closed the door behind him.

  As Trish turned to walk back into the house, she stopped for a moment and looked back over her shoulder. Conrad had lowered the car window and was now smiling broadly at her and waving goodbye. For a second, she didn’t know how to react. It was as if neither of them had a care in the world, as if they had just enjoyed a lovely afternoon in each other’s company. Then, in a moment as incongruous as any she had ever known, Trish Hilton did the only thing she could think of to do: She smiled and waved back.


  Marilyn Hilton’s Plea to Elizabeth Taylor

  They hadn’t seen each other in many years—so many they had actually lost count—but there they were, seated across from each other at a small table in a dark corner of the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel: Marilyn Hilton and her former sister-in-law, Elizabeth Taylor. It was in October of 1968 that Marilyn called Elizabeth’s secretary to ask if it would be possible to have an important conversation with Ms. Taylor. “It’s quite urgent,” she said. “A family matter.”

  By this time, Elizabeth Taylor had taken four husbands since being married to Nicky Hilton back in 1950: Michael Wilding, Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher, and her present spouse, Richard Burton (whom she would later divorce, and then remarry). As it happened, when Marilyn called Elizabeth she was in Los Angeles for the funeral of her father, Francis L. Taylor. She had planned to be on Burton’s yacht, Kalizma, sailing on some far-off sea with her husband and members of their family for the holiday, but those plans were scuttled upon the news of her seventy-two-year-old father’s death. Since she was in Los Angeles, she was able to meet with Marilyn in person for lunch.

  According to family history, by this time Marilyn had come to believe that Nicky needed something to make him feel alive again, something to live for—which was why she came up with the idea of asking Elizabeth to agree to an annulment of her marriage to him. He would then be able to marry Trish in the Catholic Church, which Marilyn knew would mean the world to him. Now it was just a matter of getting Elizabeth to agree to annul a union that had occurred almost twenty years earlier.

  In truth, Elizabeth didn’t hold a grudge against Nicky after their divorce, and even for years after. For reasons known only to her, it wasn’t until much later that she began to harbor resentment toward him and began talking publicly about the abuse she suffered at his hands. Elizabeth told Marilyn that she was sorry about Nicky’s problems. She was also feeling raw at this time, because of the death of the father with whom she’d had an ambivalent relationship. She’d always felt she would have more time with Francis to settle their differences, but now that could never happen. Also adding to her burden was that because of a tubal ligation and then a partial hysterectomy she’d undergone back in September—she called it “the destruction of my womanhood”—she and Richard Burton would not be able to have children of their own. Even though she was already a mother of four, she was heartsick. Therefore, the notions of parenting and of children weighed heavily on her mind. The idea that if something wasn’t done to help Nicky his two little boys might grow up without their father was something she felt she couldn’t allow to happen.

  That said, to annul a marriage that had caused her so much heartache was, Elizabeth felt, comparable to acting as if it had never even happened, that it wasn’t an important and, in some ways, defining touchstone in her life. She had suffered greatly during that marriage, she said, and she felt it unfair for everyone to just wipe the slate clean and act like that union to the Hilton heir—and her torment as a result of it—hadn’t happened. “I don’t know how I feel about this,” she finally decided. “I need to think about it, Marilyn. You are asking quite a lot of me.”

  Elizabeth Makes a Decision

  Toward the end of October 1968, just a week after Marilyn Hilton’s plea to her and around the time of the premiere of her movie Secret Ceremony with Mia Farrow, Elizabeth Taylor called Marilyn Hilton to render her decision. Before giving it to Marilyn, though, she wished to remind her of a time long ago when Marilyn had been of assistance to her.

  Elizabeth reminded Marilyn that when she had married Nicky, he was living in a suite at the Bel-Air Hotel. It was small and suitable for one, and Nicky knew it. Still, he hoped that Elizabeth would accept it temporarily while he looked for a bigger place. However, when he brought Elizabeth to the suite, she took one look around and said, “Absolutely not.” It was too tiny, she complained, “and I won’t even have room for all my wedding gifts!” Because Nicky didn’t want them to move in with his father, it was decided that they would move in with Barron and Marilyn for just a month.

  Maybe not surprisingly, the time Elizabeth and Nicky spent with Barron and his wife was difficult—and it wasn’t even really a full month, because Elizabeth kept going back and forth between the Hilton home and her mother’s in Beverly Hills. Right away, Elizabeth was unhappy with the Hilton household staff and took it upon herself to fire a couple of them for not treating her properly. That this eighteen-year-old guest in their home had the temerity to dismiss members of their staff seemed unfathomable to Marilyn. She, of course, turned right around and rehired the employees. But somehow the gossip columnist Sheila Graham got wind of the situation and wrote about it in her column, concluding, “Servants don’t usually leave considerate employers.” Nicky was embarrassed. “Elizabeth is dragging the Hilton name through the mud,” he told Bob Neal. “I feel bad for Marilyn. When was the last time she was ever in a gossip column?”

  Though Marilyn was upset with Elizabeth for her treatment of the Hiltons’ domestic staff, she didn’t hold it against the young starlet. In fact, she had a great deal of empathy for her where her marriage was concerned. The two sisters-in-law had many heartfelt conversations about Nicky, and Marilyn—who was only twenty-two herself, four years older than Elizabeth—was always there for Elizabeth with a ready handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

  Now, all of these many years later, Elizabeth said she was sorry for the petulant and spoiled way she had acted as a guest in Marilyn’s home. She also regretted dragging Marilyn’s name into the press. She explained that she had been “a silly young girl,” and now realized she’d had no right to be such an ungrateful guest. “I have always remembered how kind you were to me back then,” she said, “and now I would like to help you in any way I can.” For her part, Marilyn said that Elizabeth had already more than returned the favor when in 1950 she hosted a lovely baby shower for her when she was pregnant with her second son, Steven. Indeed, the two women did have some rather warm history between them.

  “I just don’t want to hang on to any anger where Nicky is concerned,” Elizabeth said, all of this according to a close friend of Marilyn Hilton’s who was privy to these communications with Elizabeth. “I don’t think it’s good. Maybe one of the reasons Nicky is in so such trouble,” she opined, “is because he is holding on to unhappiness from his own past.” Given what had happened with Nicky’s international division, Marilyn couldn’t very well disagree. Elizabeth further said that she wasn’t sure it would even be possible to obtain an annulment. She wasn’t familiar enough with Catholic Church doctrine, she admitted, to know one way or the other.

  It would not be easy and there wasn’t much time in which to do it, but Marilyn knew that her influential family had not only the power but the money to make things happen. “You just let me and Barron take care of all of the pesky details,” Marilyn told Elizabeth. “As long as you will agree to sign the papers when they show up, we will handle everything else.”

  Elizabeth agreed.

  A Grasp at Happiness

  You’ll never believe what has happened,” Nicky Hilton was telling Trish. It was the first week of January 1969 and the two were sitting together in the middle of the small Coldwater Canyon Park in Beverly Hills. There were just two small picnic areas with a couple of tables under a shaded arbor. Trish had packed a small lunch for them—two chicken salad sandwiches, some fruit, and a couple of small cartons of milk. They sat facing each other at one of the picnic tables.

  By this time, Trish Hilton had decided on a last-ditch, tough-love approach to Nicky’s problems: She had filed for divorce and asked him to move out of the house. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she would explain in subsequent years. “I had a consultation with Dr. Judd Marmor. He said, ‘Trish, you’re going to lose this man. I would give you nine-out-of-ten odds that if he doesn’t get help, he’s going to die.’ He thought that if I made him leave and told him he could not come back until he went into a tre
atment facility, he would finally realize how much was at stake, and he would straighten himself out. I was twenty-eight. I listened to what I was told. I told Nicky, ‘I love you enough to know that I can’t help you. You need treatment.’ I regretted it, though. Suffice it to say, this was a mixed-up time for all of us Hiltons.”

  But certainly not for anyone more than for Nicky as he moved into a small split-level home off of Laurel Canyon Boulevard in the Hollywood Hills. To keep an eye on him, Trish sent with him their cook, an African American woman named Mary whom Nicky liked very much. Trish also vowed to visit him every day, and on this winter day in the park he seemed genuinely happy. He had asked Trish to meet him so that he could give her some good news.

  “What’s going on?” Trish asked. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Elizabeth,” he said, beaming. “She has given me an annulment. Finally, after all of these years!”

  Trish was stunned. “But… but… how?” she managed to say.

  The annulment had not been finalized. How could it have? It had only been a short time since Marilyn obtained Elizabeth’s permission to proceed. What likely happened is that Marilyn told Nicky about the possibility of an annulment and he had misunderstood and thought that the process was completed, when actually it had just begun. It didn’t matter, though. The result was the same: Nicky seemed to have a brand-new lease on life. “Marilyn is a saint,” he told his wife. “She’s an absolute saint to have done this for us!” he exclaimed.

  “I’ll bet Barron had something to do with it, too,” Trish offered.

  Nicky stopped and mulled that possibility over for a moment. “Do you think?” he asked, his dark eyes wide with astonishment. “Do you think Barron would do this for me?” The anxious expression on his face suggested that he truly wanted to believe it.