by Donald Bogle
• • •
Having bought a home in Bel Air, Elizabeth returned to the sunshine and blue skies and promise of California. Embarking on new ventures, she starred in the HBO movie Between Friends with Carol Burnett. But much to the distress of those close to her, her drinking veered out of control. One night in her Bel Air home, she collapsed in a hallway. During a hospital stay for a bowel obstruction, her children; her brother, Howard, and his wife; and her friend Roddy McDowall had an intervention.
“I was in such a drugged stupor that when they filed into my room I thought, ‘Oh, how nice, my family are all here to visit,’ ” she recalled. “Then they sat down and each read from the papers they had prepared, each saying they loved me, each describing incidents they’d witnessed of my debilitation, and each saying that if I kept on the way I was with drugs, I would die.”
They had been brutally honest with her. In turn, she became brutally honest with herself.
“For 35 years, I couldn’t go to sleep without at least two sleeping pills. I’m a genuine insomniac. And I’d always taken a lot of medication for pain. I’d had 19 major operations, and drugs had become a crutch. I wouldn’t take them only when I was in pain. I was taking a lot of Percodan. I’d take Percodan and a couple of drinks before I would go out. I just felt I had to get stoned to get over my shyness. I needed oblivion, escape.
“Not being a drunk is the only way I’m going to say alive,” she realized. “Drunk is a hard word, but I’ve had to be hard with myself to face it. A drunk is a drunk. Somebody who drinks too much is a drunk. Somebody that takes too many pills is a junkie. There’s no polite way of saying it.”
In December 1983, she entered the Betty Ford Center in Rancho Mirage, California, to undergo treatment for her alcoholism and her dependence on pain medication, the first celebrity to do so. Like all patients at the center, she had to be up by six thirty, do chores, and attend lectures, meetings, and also group therapy sessions in which patients had to openly discuss their problems and backgrounds. For a world-famous woman, this was a particularly difficult form of treatment. But she endured it. On January 20, 1984—after seven weeks—she left the facility and began a new life. Having lost eleven pounds, she dieted to lose more.
Her life was transformed in another dramatic way. When she learned her former Giant costar and her close friend Rock Hudson was ill because of a “new” disease called AIDS that was affecting the world’s gay community as well as drug addicts, she realized AIDS was considered a “gay disease,” a “gay plague,” not worthy of much discussion. Even in the entertainment community that had lost any number of people to the disease, most show business people also avoided the topic. Nothing was being done. Someone had to step forward and do something. And so she did. Organizing and hosting Hollywood’s first fund raiser for the disease in 1985, she raised $648,000 for AIDS research. Now she had embarked on an odyssey for research into the disease, to fight it, to turn the tide, but also to make the public more aware of it. A movement within the entertainment industry was afoot, led by Elizabeth. In 1985, the same year Rock Hudson died from AIDS complications, she cofounded amfAR with Dr. Mathilde Krim.
For yet another new generation, she also reconfigured the concept of stardom: the idea of using one’s fame to help others, to become involved in national/international causes. Audrey Hepburn began to work diligently with UNICEF. Other stars, past and present, had lent their time, their energies, and their names to charitable causes. But none worked as tirelessly for a controversial issue—an unpopular cause—that some in Hollywood feared could wreck their careers by association.
Not only had Elizabeth Taylor reinvented herself and the definition of stardom, but she also underwent a physical transformation. Following her strict diet—after leaving the Betty Ford Center—she shed an additional forty-five pounds and also had cosmetic surgery. It appeared as if she had a well-executed face-lift with results that were dazzling. “She was beautiful again,” commented People. With George Hamilton often as an escort, she elicited the oohs and ahs of the past as people fought to catch a glimpse of her. For a spell, she also went blond.
This was the Elizabeth Taylor—in all her glorious yet unfinished history—that Michael observed, was even somewhat obsessed with, and who he set out not only to meet but also to win over. What she represented to him was not just classic iconic stardom but on a personal level, someone who had endured physical and emotional pain.
In the mid-1980s, he finally touched base with her. But at first the going would be rocky for their evolving friendship. Ironically, it would blossom, though at a crucial time in his life—his most difficult emotionally and professionally—a time he could never have anticipated. But first came the courtship, and it was Michael who clearly did the courting and, like a young lover in pursuit, there would be moments of romantic agonizing about her yet he would come to treasure every minute of it.
Chapter 14
* * *
MICHAEL HAD BEEN waiting to meet Elizabeth, waiting too long. Not just to meet her in the ordinary sense, at a Hollywood opening. Or at a charity event. Or at a big dinner. Not just to say hello and tell her, “I love you. I love everything you’ve done.” Not just then to say good night and give a kiss and then she’d go her way and not really think about him again. No, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to really meet her, to make a connection, then to see her again and again and to get to know her and for her to get to know him. That was what he wanted. Something deep inside Michael Jackson needed Elizabeth Taylor—even if it was just an acknowledgment that she knew who he was. Though he probably couldn’t articulate what he wanted from her (who could?), she was both a star goddess and even then a mother goddess.
She, of course, was aware of him, had seen photographs, had heard stories, knew his importance. But apparently she had never seriously thought about him, certainly not the way he thought about her. She was a part of his dreams, and with his love of show business history, she was the embodiment of Hollywood history as well as the embodiment of what it meant—the bad mixed with the good—to be a star. She was indeed as Liz Smith liked to say, “The Star of Stars.”
He knew that she liked to keep up with the current scene and enjoyed meeting a new generation of performers whose talents she admired. A close friend was songwriter Carole Bayer Sager, who had written for Michael. Sager remembered Taylor’s interest in Stevie Wonder. It was Sager who arranged for Elizabeth to meet Wonder when he was recording “That’s What Friends Are For” with Dionne Warwick in 1985. Sager and her husband, Burt Bacharach, had written the song. The proceeds of the recording—Elton John and Gladys Knight also sang on it—went to AIDS research. Elizabeth seemed intrigued by the new popular music stars, so different from those of her generation. Later, Elizabeth would spend time with Bob Dylan, who in his 1963 song “I Shall Be Free” had written a lyric about making love to Elizabeth Taylor and catching hell from Richard Burton. As entranced by Taylor as the men in her earlier life, Dylan was said to have written the song “Emotionally Yours” for her. Yet with all that said and done, Elizabeth didn’t seem to be panting to meet anyone.
In 1984, Michael broke ground when he stayed at the Helmsley Palace Hotel in New York. Located in midtown Manhattan, the Helmsley Palace was one of the city’s most luxurious five-star hotels, with elegant suites and a staff that made sure every need or whim of a guest was met. The Helmsley accommodated the rich, the famous, the privileged, the pampered. The general manager of the hotel’s suites was Dominic Cascio, an affable, very likable professional who was well attuned to dealing with famous people.
When traveling, Michael found himself often alone—and lonely—during his downtime. On one visit to the Helmsley, he struck up a conversation with Dominic Cascio, and in time the two became friendly, so much so that Michael visited Cascio’s home in Hawthorne, New Jersey. By now, Michael was cautious with most people he met. His security man Bill Bray, who had watched over Michael since the days of the Jackson 5, was accustom
ed to checking out people and places. The Cascios were deemed fine, and in time, the family helped ward off Michael’s loneliness. He became something of a surrogate member of the Cascio clan. Dominic’s wife, Connie, was a wonderful cook who prepared special meals. Michael became friendly with the Cascio children, Frank and Eddie. Said Frank Cascio, who first met Michael at age five in 1984: “The doorbell would ring at night, and Eddie and I would know it was Michael.” Eventually, Frank Cascio traveled with Michael and, at another point, worked for him. So did his younger brother, Eddie.
One thing that Frank Cascio’s father, Dominic, was well aware of was Michael’s burning desire to meet Elizabeth Taylor.
“My father was actually the man who arranged for Michael and Elizabeth Taylor to meet for the first time. It happened when one of Elizabeth’s daughters [Liza Todd] was getting married and she was staying at the Helmsley Palace at the same time as Michael,” recalled Frank Cascio. Though Michael was about to check out of the hotel, he called Dominic to his room when he learned Elizabeth was there. “Dominic, please give this note to Elizabeth Taylor. I’d really love to meet her.” It was delivered to Elizabeth. Nothing was said. Nor did she respond to the note.
“When Michael came back to the hotel, two or three months later, he kept asking my father, ‘Did you give the letter to Elizabeth? Are you sure she got it?’ He couldn’t believe she hadn’t been in touch with him.”
Though his big attempt to meet her went nowhere, Michael was unwilling to give up the chase. He pursued her in a way he had not had to pursue the other great stars with whom he became friends. He knew the key would be to meet up with her when they both were in the same place at the same time. Given his touring schedule and given her schedule, he knew that wouldn’t be easy.
Elizabeth Taylor was still going full steam. But she was also undergoing new trying times. After leaving the Betty Ford Center, she worked hard to keep her life in order. She would also soon agree to write a book on her dramatic weight loss. She filmed an episode of the TV series Hotel with her long time friend Roddy McDowall. Then came the devastating news that Richard Burton had died on August 5, 1984. Perhaps it was all the more shocking to the world because the marriage to Sally Hay appeared to calm him. During these years, he filmed the miniseries Ellis Island in which his daughter Kate Burton, now an accomplished actress, also appeared. He starred in an adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 with actor John Hurt. Burton also spent time with Hay in a home he had maintained for twenty-six years in the Swiss village Celigny on Lake Geneva. Mainly, in Celigny—with a population of 620 townspeople—Burton sought a settled life, away from the fanfare and the bright lights. And he hoped to regain his health. Hay helped him watch his diet—and his drinking. In August 1984, his costar Hurt was a houseguest of Burton and Hay. They dined casually at one of the village’s two restaurants. All seemed fine. But two nights later, Burton suffered a massive stroke and died. He was fifty-eight. Sally contacted Burton’s remaining seven siblings with whom he had remained close all his life. She also called Elizabeth. Hurt announced the death to the press. Because she believed her appearance might turn the solemn occasion into a media circus, Taylor did not attend his funeral out of respect for his widow. Afterward, she privately visited his grave. Cameras, however, snapped the grief-stricken Taylor standing by the gravesite.
Like everyone else, Michael was aware of this new sadness and tragedy in her life. When he learned, however, that she was back at her home in Los Angeles—at the same time he was winding up the Victory tour, which was scheduled to play Dodger Stadium at the end of November and the first two days in December—he sent word that he’d provide tickets to his concert, as many as she wanted for herself and her party. By one count, it was fifteen seats; by another, it was thirty.
That night, as he performed, he was on pins and needles just at the thought that she was watching him. From his perspective, however, the evening ended disastrously. She had left the stadium midway during his performance.
“I went to a concert and I couldn’t see a thing. I was way up,” Elizabeth recalled, “in a stadium.” Actually, she was seated in a special glass-enclosed VIP section that apparently didn’t give her the best sight lines. “I couldn’t see a thing and I brought thirty people, and we couldn’t even hear. So we went home to watch it on television by disc.
“Michael heard that I had left halfway through and called me the next day and was like in tears ’cause he’d heard I had walked out,” Taylor said. “I hadn’t walked out. I just couldn’t see anything. And then we talked on the phone for about three hours. From there on in, we talked more and more on the phone.”
“After that, we talked on the phone every day,” Michael said. “She somehow got my schedule. . . . I thought, Wow. Doesn’t she have other things to do? After all, she’s Elizabeth Taylor.” Something magical happened during those phone conversations. Michael and Elizabeth became hooked on each other.
Once back in LA, Michael asked her if he could come to tea—and if he could bring Bubbles, his frisky chimpanzee. At this point, Michael took Bubbles just about everywhere, introducing him to the media and a range of celebrities. Of course, Bubbles was a safety net for him, a personal security blanket, a way of blocking out his fears of the world by focusing on something else. Taylor understood. “Sure,” Elizabeth told him. “I love animals.”
“Then we met and spent more and more time with each other,” said Taylor. “Just became really good friends. Told each other everything.”
• • •
Told each other everything.
That was the essential comment. What indeed was everything? Certainly, that meant long discussions of their childhoods, the loss of innocence, the responsibilities of a child being a professional in an adult world, the demands of being breadwinners for their families, the relentless schedules, the discipline and focus it required, and the stamina, drive, and talent it took to make the transition from child star to major adult superstar. But Elizabeth provided Michael with something else. For someone who had grown up fascinated by entertainment history, Michael heard firsthand stories of the days at MGM, the greatest of Hollywood studios, when Louis B. Mayer reigned supreme; of a galaxy of stars who resided at the studio; of everything from the commissary at MGM to the huge wardrobe and makeup departments to the vast back lots. “I get to learn so much from her,” he said. “She’ll tell me about James Dean and Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy and Montgomery Clift,” he said. “She tells me what they were really like.” He also found that she liked children, loved toys and games, and cartoons. “She’s playful and youthful and happy and finds a way to laugh and giggle even when she’s in pain.”
Michael told her tales of life on the road when as a child he had been exposed to a seamy side of show business but also when he came face-to-face with those African American legends he admired. Surely, she was hearing some names for the first time. For a woman always eager to learn more, to move outside of the cocoon that MGM as well as her handlers—the agents, the managers, the publicists—had locked her in, she no doubt found it enlightening to hear his stories.
But on another level, she sought to help him cope better with fame—and the media. He was struck by the way she handled her fame. In the past, he had seen Diana Ross navigate her way through fame, refusing to let it restrict her but so much. On one occasion “Diana Ross marched bravely into a Manhattan shoe store with her three daughters and had them fitted for running shoes, despite the crowd of 200 that convened on the sidewalk. Michael, who’s been a boy in a bubble since the age of reason, would find that intolerable,” commented writer Gerri Hirshey. Of course, Ross had lived her very early years without mass attention. Growing up in Detroit’s Brewster projects, she pushed her way onto the world stage, not only through her talent but also through her fierce ambition, which was always a part of her appeal. But those early Detroit years grounded her in the basics of “ordinary life.” Elizabeth Taylor had never had an “ordinary life” during her childhood yea
rs, except perhaps that brief period in her beloved England. Like Michael, she had a dim memory of a childhood. Otherwise it was all work, all discipline, all adhering to the rules of entertainment culture. Yet she had done something Michael believed he hadn’t mastered. Some things she obviously couldn’t do because of her fame. But some things she would not let her fame stop her from doing, especially during her marriage to Mike Todd and later on the political trail with John Warner. Surely, all this fascinated Michael. “One night Michael, Elizabeth and I went out to dinner,” Lionel Richie recalled. “Because she was also a child star, Elizabeth could relate to him. They talked about isolation and what you do when you’re lonely. It was good for Michael to hear that Elizabeth often went out of the house without security guards. The idea that you could live without them was a revelation to him.”
• • •
Told each other everything.
Certainly, that meant discussions about their families, especially their parents and the relationship of their parents. Taylor learned about Joe Jackson’s unruly temper, about the beatings he gave his children, about his philandering, about his insensitivity to Michael. She also heard of Katherine’s loving, warm nature, of the comfort she had provided Michael and her other children. But no doubt she also heard some of Michael’s conflicting feelings. Why had Katherine never left Joseph? Why had she endured so much from him? In turn, Michael learned about Elizabeth’s family life: the distant, sometimes abusive father; the assertive mother. Interestingly, she had come to the point where she understood her parents, had reconciled any conflicting feelings about them. Interestingly also, she had made no public complaints about her mother, whom she appeared to love deeply. She also appeared to love her brother, Howard, deeply. And in time, she would make public comments only about her father’s temper and abuse to illustrate aspects of her life and Michael’s that drew them to each other. Otherwise she had a rather stoic, philosophical attitude about the meaning of her past, including her childhood. “Even though I missed out on a lot,” she said, “I wouldn’t change anything.”
