Mrs. Astor Regrets

by Meryl Gordon

  Reverend Charles Pridemore, of Trinity Church in nearby Ossining, visited every week and noticed that the rituals of religion still mattered to Mrs. Astor. "When I would give her communion, she made the sign of the cross. She knew it was me," he said, adding that she appeared to pay attention to the conversations in the room. "One day Philip and I were sitting around together, and he was talking. She raised her head and looked right over at him. I think she recognized him too."

  But the relaxed environment vanished during visits by Mrs. Astor's son. Suddenly the household went to Code Red, aware that Tony Marshall was eager to spot any fault; he even brought a camera once and snapped pictures. When he gave his mother a plant and it wilted overnight, Chris Ely, fearful of being accused of being a plant murderer, tried to revive it by giving it the attention normally reserved for someone needing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "It was tense when her son came," says Noreen Nee. Most visitors sat next to Brooke, held her hand, and talked to her, but Nee recalls, "He would sit across the room and just look at her." Either unable or unwilling to express himself under the watchful eye of the staff, Tony communed with his mother in silence.

  On Thanksgiving Day 2006, Tony and Charlene were guests at the annual party given by Sam Peabody and his wife, Judy, at the New York Racquet Club. Although he was a member, Tony had not been to the private club in months. As Peabody recalls, "All the staff came to him and said, 'Please come back—we miss you.'"

  Philip, Nan, and their children spent the holiday with Brooke at Holly Hill. The family shared turkey with the staff and then serenaded Brooke in the sunroom. "They sang for her like a band," recalls Pearline Noble. "They had different songs that they made up. Mrs. A. was awake, and blew kisses and smiled." Winslow played his guitar; Nan and Sophie harmonized on "Amazing Grace" and "Time of Your Life" and one of Winslow's original compositions, "Opportunities." Philip massaged his grandmother's feet. Sophie, then eleven, came away with another good memory of her great-grandmother. "We didn't have to be so formal," she says. "Every so often her eyes would just stare at us—that was really nice. I feel like at that point we had a different connection with her."

  The next day the family drove to Manhattan, and while Nan took the children to join the crowds of Black Friday shoppers, Philip traveled downtown to meet with the two district attorneys, Elizabeth Loewy and Peirce Moser. As he began to answer the lawyers' questions, he broke down and wept. He was emotionally ragged, recalling Brooke's fear and despair from the nurses' notes, yet also facing the reality that he was providing damaging information about his father.

  Pearline Noble and Minnette Christie, whose complaints to Philip had set off the lawsuit, were also summoned to meet with the prosecutors. Annette de la Renta sent a town car to take them to the DA's office. Both women, whom I later interviewed together, say that they were flabbergasted by the turn of events. "If I knew that things were going to get to this point, I would not have opened my mouth," says Minnette Christie. "I didn't want him to get into trouble. Believe you me, I was just doing this for Mrs. Astor." She continued, "After Mrs. Astor got out of that apartment, I thought it was over, kaput. When I got the call to go down to the DA, I didn't know what the hell I was going for." Pearline Noble insists, "I had no clue there was anything criminal. We didn't go after them, never."

  For Brooke Astor, the financial cost of her move to Holly Hill turned out to be exorbitant, more expensive than spending a year in Palm Beach, chartering a fleet of yachts in the Caribbean, or taking up residency at the Connaught in London. The problem was not the bills for the ambulance from Lenox Hill or for sprucing up her country house, but rather the millions of dollars in legal fees arising out of the guardianship lawsuit, all paid out of her account, in keeping with legal precedent.

  On December 4, 2006, Justice Stackhouse, ruling on the legal bills, began by noting that he had fee applications from fifty-six lawyers, sixty-five legal assistants, six accountants, five bankers, six doctors, a law school professor, and two public relations firms. (The number would have been higher, but Annette la Renta paid her own legal bills.) Asked to approve $3,044,055.71, the judge knocked the sum down to $2,223,284.42. The exactitude was comic, but the lawyers wanted every penny.

  The warring legal strategies were on display by virtue of their final accounting. Tony's lawyers bore such animosity toward Susan Robbins that they had launched an effort to disqualify her as Mrs. Astor's lawyer, hiring another lawyer, David A. Smith, who billed $18,512.50 for research on Robbins. Stackhouse denied that request. The judge also refused to cover the public relations firms or lawyers' conversations with the press. Ken Warner, Tony's attorney, was the big loser: he had billed $35,000 for talking to journalists, which the judge noted primarily constituted of speaking to Serge Kovaleski of the Times.

  The most newsworthy nugget was buried on page eight of this thirteen-page document—a simple sentence that dramatically changed the press coverage and public perception of the Astor case. Ruling that Tony was entitled to be reimbursed for $409,451.65 worth of legal bills, the judge announced: "I make this ruling based on the conclusion of the court evaluator that the allegations in the petition regarding Mrs. Astor's medical and dental care, and other allegations of intentional elder abuse by the Marshalls, were not substantiated."

  That phrase, "not substantiated" would be repeated ad infinitum every time Tony and Charlene Marshall were mentioned in news stories. "ASTOR SON IS CLEARED," trumpeted the New York Post. This phrase allowed the couple to tell the world that they had been falsely accused. The New York Times initially tucked the story away on page B3, with a misleading headline: "In Aftermath of the Astor Case, How the Final Fees Piled Up." The next day the Times offered a follow-up on page one of the metro section: "Astor Son Claims Vindication Over Words in Judge's Ruling."

  Justice Stackhouse had not intended his ruling to be an exoneration of Tony, according to a courthouse source, and expressed surprise at the "repercussions" from his statement. "Sure, there were things that concerned us—of course there were," says the person who spoke with the judge. "But if you're going to prove x andy in the apartment in New York, you have to have a trial. Don't forget, the house was opened, the staff was rehired."

  Henry Kissinger, who carefully parsed the judge's phrasing and use of the words "not substantiated," made a similar point. "My understanding is that the judge didn't say it didn't take place," he says. Gallantly eager to defend Mrs. de la Renta, he added, "Annette did not go into this to prove anything against Tony. She went in there on the basis of facts presented to her by staff members and Brooke's grandson. She didn't throw around charges of elder abuse."

  Court evaluator Sam Liebowitz's report on the Astor affair, according to those who have seen it, is a mixed bag, validating some of Philip's charges but not all of them. Liebowitz, who conducted interviews with Brooke's doctors, staff, and friends, acknowledged that her apartment was not in top-notch condition and that her dogs were not being regularly walked, with the dining room used as a dog run.

  Tony Marshall was blamed for poorly supervising the household. Brooke Astor's mental decline was detailed with a series of examples depicting her as confused and unable to sustain a conversation. Tony had included in his legal papers the speech that his mother gave at the Knickerbocker Club in February 10, 2004, as proof of her acuity. But Liebowitz challenged this claim, noting that Dr. Pritchett stated that Mrs. Astor would not have had the ability to write or dictate the thoughts contained in the speech. The report concluded that Mrs. Astor was not the victim of elder abuse as far as her medical and physical care was concerned, but did not deal with the question of financial abuse.

  For Tony and Charlene Marshall, the judge's ruling represented vindication, but not everyone in their social world agreed. Several days later there was a funeral for Eleanor Elliott, a former magazine editor who had attended Brooke's one hundredth birthday party and whose husband, Jock, had been the best man at Tony's first wedding. At the service, at the Frank E. Campbell Funera
l Chapel on Madison Avenue, Charlene went over to commiserate with Louis Auchincloss. "She threw herself into my arms," he recalls with distaste. "It was disgusting."

  At year's end, two players in the Astor drama wrote about their experiences. Fraser Seitel, the Rockefeller spokesman, had schmoozed the press corps and become a favorite. Objectivity is a journalistic ideal, but charm usually trumps. Seitel's essay ("Crisis Management Lessons from the Astor Disaster") in the December 2006 issue of O'Dwyer's PR Report, offered such helpful hints as "strike first," "anticipate leaking, loose-lipped lawyers," and "stick to the script."

  Seeking normality, Charlene had returned to teaching a healing prayer workshop at St. James', although as Rector Husson says, "She came to it from a place that was pretty tired and weary." In the December 2006 issue of the St. James' Epistle, she wrote about her ordeal as a test of faith and humanity:

  As you may know, Tony and I have been going through a rather rough patch. But we've not had to endure this time of trial alone. You've all been there for us and our family Sunday after Sunday, week after week, with hugs, kisses and words of encouragement; praying for us when we couldn't stand, speaking for us when we had no words.

  There were some days that were so very dark and worrisome. On one of those days during my morning reading I came across a story about a prisoner in a concentration camp who had scratched on the wall these words: "I believe in the sun even when it doesn't shine, I believe in love when it isn't shown, and I believe in God even when He doesn't speak."

  I wept as I shared these words with Brenda [Rector Husson] that day because not hearing God speak in the midst of our troubles was very difficult for me. Tony and I arrived home later that evening after spending hours at our attorney's office and as I opened the day's mail, out of one envelope poured a whole array of words of love, affection and encouragement sent by all the Stephen Ministers at St. James' Church. And that was only the beginning. God has been speaking to us with a whole symphony of voices—yours. Here, truly, at St. James', is the body of Christ. Jesus can only be so happy that you are his and love you more than ever. Thank you.

  By publishing this heartfelt letter, Charlene was conveying her hope that the Marshalls' bad times were safely behind them.

  But the periodic rumblings from One Hogan Place, the headquarters of the New York County district attorney's office, were disquieting. In February, Charlene and Tony Marshall celebrated the christening of a new grandchild, Inness's baby boy. The reception at their home afterward lacked the gaiety typical of such occasions. "We went, we made our excuses, and then we left," says Paul Gilbert. "Under the circumstances, it was not very joyous. I was there for Inness." Francis Morrissey, godfather to Inness's older child, chatted amiably with the other guests, who included Daniel Billy and Sam Peabody. The threat of indictment had not eroded Morrissey's close relationship with the Marshalls. They were all in this together, their legal futures entwined.

  Morrissey had been heartily telling friends that he was convinced justice would prevail and his name would be cleared of the forgery allegations, but in truth he was deeply depressed. "It has nearly destroyed him," says Catia Chapin. "I said, 'Frank, this is very hard, but you have to stay in there, you cannot let this get you down. A lot of us have crosses to bear—you can do it.'" She adds, "This has gutted his soul." News accounts suggesting that Morrissey had been the criminal mastermind did not sit well with his friends. The retired high school teacher Chuck Merten, Morrissey's former neighbor in South Salem, New York, says, "I don't know Tony Marshall from Adam, but he doesn't sound like anybody's fool. He's misled by someone like Frank?"

  To sustain a legal practice was difficult, given Morrissey's notoriety. He lost at least one client, a friend of twenty years' standing, the photo-realist painter Richard Estes, who sounds mournful about the parting of ways. "I've never had a lot of legal things to deal with, but if I did, I'd call Francis," says Estes. "I took him out to dinner and said I didn't believe any of it. Then a month later, I sort of fired him." The painter adds, "I used to give him little pictures for my fee—he had a whole wall of things by me. For all I know, he's sold them, or doesn't want to look at them anymore." An Estes painting is not a trivial gift; his work commands hundreds of thousands of dollars. For Morrissey, it was distressing to look around his office and be constantly reminded of Estes's abandonment. He railed angrily to friends, What happened to loyalty and the presumption of innocence?

  Morrissey was also weighed down by family tragedies: his sister Catherine was battling breast cancer; a niece had been injured in a cab accident; and he was underwriting the care of his elderly father, then ninety-six, living in Boston. The spry retired municipal judge Francis X. Morrissey, no stranger to scandal himself, offered a sympathetic ear.

  Here they were, like actors taking a break between the matinee and evening performances, with time to contemplate the reviews and their relationships with their fellow cast members. Destiny and DNA plus Brooke Astor's unseen hand had led inexorably to this moment. What a troubled thread had passed down through the male line of the Astor family: Tony had been estranged from his own father, and now he was estranged from his son. Brooke Astor, charming and crafty, had contributed to family disintegration by heaping insults on her son and his wife while making loving gestures toward her grandson late in life. One look at her luminous, pleading eyes and Philip had leapt into action.

  During this lull, I asked Philip, "Were you and your father ever close?" and a few weeks later he found and forwarded a copy of a letter that he had written to Tony on March 18, 1993, shortly after Tony had married Charlene and Philip's second child had been born. The letter brims with longing for a better relationship. As Philip wrote:

  So much has changed during the past few years. But during this time I feel that we have gotten closer to each other. Perhaps from your end it might be ascribed to leaving Tee or perhaps it may be the constructive influence and effect of your developing relationship with Charlene. But ultimately it is because of a changing dynamic between the two of us—when we are talking on the phone or seeing each other or even thinking of each other when apart. As for myself, many questions may remain unanswered and there is much in the past which could have been said and done, but wasn't. But now I take a new look upon being a father and son, as I am both ... it couldn't be a better time to talk—or write—as father, and friend.

  Many years had passed since Philip had sent out this nakedly emotional note to his father. Maybe Tony had wanted things to be better too; maybe he had tried. But oh how things had gone badly awry. Philip admitted that he was taken aback when he found this letter, and said to me, "It's kind of a killer, don't you think?"

  Tony was also reflecting on his life, and he too dug up an item of emotional import. In March 2007, he and Charlene went to the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia, where Tony donated the pistol that had belonged to his grandfather to the National Museum of the Marine Corps. The gun had been used by the general in 1914 in Veracruz, Mexico, and given to his grandson for luck. Tony took the pistol to Iwo Jima and then carried it with him through many moves and marriages. "I always kept it in a drawer and would take it out once in a while and ask myself, 'What good is it doing here?'" Tony told the Quantico Sentry, an on-line newsletter. Maybe he had once considered giving it to his sons, but he was no longer speaking to them. Whatever his reasoning, he did not want to have a gun so close by anymore.

  No save-the-date cards were sent out in the weeks preceding March 30, 2007. This year Brooke Astor's birthday would be celebrated in a very private fashion. But it was nonetheless an extraordinary occasion. She was 105 years old, an age when simply waking up each morning is an achievement. She was not in apparent pain. Mrs. Astor had lived to see one more spring with its glorious fields of daffodils and crocuses.

  The lawyers actually negotiated over her birthday celebration. Ken Warner got in touch with Paul Saunders to inquire whether Charlene Marshall could visit Brooke. Saunders denied the request, recalling,
"I said no, let things remain as they are. I had a court order to obey. They could easily have gone back to Justice Stackhouse. They never even went back during the settlement talks."

  Warner disagreed with that premise. He was convinced that as a matter of law, the temporary restraining order had expired once Annette de la Renta became Mrs. Astor's permanent guardian, and thus Annette could have granted permission for the visit. But Warner decided for future strategic reasons not to force the issue with the judge. As a result, the two sides then had to coordinate the birthday visits so that Tony would not overlap with Annette, Philip, and the others. Of course the press would be writing about Mrs. Astor's birthday—yet another public relations opportunity for both sides.

  Tony went to see his mother early in the day, taking pink azaleas. She slept through her son's visit. She often dozed in her chair when Tony came and then opened her eyes the minute he left, to the point where the staff wondered whether her actions were deliberate. "She does spend a lot of time sleeping," Warner was forced to explain to the Associated Press. "It can be difficult to catch the lucid moments. But he did see her." Fraser Seitel had the pleasure of telling the press that Mrs. Astor was awake for her party later in the day.

  The nurses dressed her up in a white shirt, bright pink slacks, an orange and pink scarf, pearl earrings, and gold bracelets and rings, which she fingered with pleasure. Annette took a three-inch lemon cake with white frosting; David Rockefeller carried a bouquet of sweet peas from his greenhouse. Philip's daughter, Sophie, and Alec's daughter, Hilary Brooke, sang "Happy Birthday" several times, giggling and laughing, while their fathers looked on proudly. As Annette recalls, "She knew that everyone was there for her. It was really sweet. Everyone had a glass of champagne." The celebrants included Alec, Nan, Chris Ely, Naomi Packard-Koot, and the philanthropist Florence Irving. "My grandmother was taking it all in, smiling," recalls Philip. "David and Annette and I hadn't been together since our meeting in June. We had come a long way." The family was all there—but minus two key members.