Elizabeth

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  Elizabeth

  worldwide celebrity. It’s a side of her that often surprised people who just thought of her as a spoiled star.

  Of course, Elizabeth was also a pampered celebrity, and there was no escaping that side of her, either. She would usually consider a man’s bank account, his earning potential, and whether or not he could offer her an appropriate lifestyle before dating him. There’d been a few men over the years, though, who did not have great wealth and to whom she was attracted anyway, such as Max Lerner back when she was married to Eddie Fisher. For the most part, though, she was as practical as she was passionate, and liked to know exactly what she was getting into when she brought a man into her life. She was a very rich woman, after all. If she was going to become romantically involved with someone, he too would have to have considerable wealth. She was accustomed to being presented with expensive gifts from consorts such as Malcolm Forbes, who had recently presented her with a purple, custom-made Harley-Davidson motorcycle, dubbed Purple Passion. She returned the favor by hosting his seventieth birthday party in Morocco August 1989—to which Larry was not invited.

  Tom Gates, by this time the New York editor for the Palm Beach Social Pictorial, attended the festivities and recalls, “As soon as we arrived in Tangier, we [the media] were told that Elizabeth and Malcolm would be holding a 9 a.m. photo shoot the following morning at the entrance to his Palace Mandaub, where the party would take place later that evening. Many of us arrived at seven or eight in the morning to get a good spot—and we waited, and we waited, and we waited. At around 10 a.m., we got a briefing that ‘Miss Taylor was up and having her hair done.’ An hour or so later, we were briefed that ‘Miss Taylor is dressing and will be down shortly.’ Finally, around lunchtime, Elizabeth and Malcolm arrived together, dressed very casually. They stood side by side for about . . . ten seconds. ‘Oh, thank you all, so very much,’ announced Elizabeth as she started to leave. There was almost a riot as everyone yelled for more pictures. She acquiesced and stood next to Malcolm for a while longer. At that point, Mr. Forbes told The Glory Years

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  us that he had taken Elizabeth shopping in the Tangier bazaar for a pair of diamond-and-ruby earrings as a present, but that when either or both of them were recognized, ‘there went our bargaining power.’

  “The birthday party itself was the most festive and exotic event imaginable,” Gates continues. “Seemingly hundreds of native musicians clad in white jelabas lined the path to the entrance of the palace, playing strange-looking and -sounding instruments, as native girls scattered rose petals along the path. Burly guards wearing harem pants and bearing swords stood at the entrance to most of the rooms that we were allowed entry to. The dinner actually took place on the beautifully manicured lawn of the palace under dozens of colorful tents. There was an enormous fishbowl that contained all of the seating assignments and guests chose their seats as randomly as one would a door prize. This very democratic way of seating was praised by some and ignored by others who insisted, ‘I’m sitting with so-and-so, and that’s all there is to it.’ The press, however, was not eligible for the ‘democratic seating process’ and we were all together under one tent.

  “The following day, at a luncheon hosted by the king of Morocco at the Tangier Country Club, I went about asking many of the boldfaced names, such as Barbara Walters, and Beverly Sills, and David and Helen Gurley Brown, and Dina Merrill and Ted Hartley, if they had ever been to anything as opulent. Everyone said no, absolutely never. At one point, I got Elizabeth’s attention and she said, ‘What are you doing here?’ I explained that I was on assignment from Palm Beach Society and that ‘now I get paid to follow you around!’ She let out a little squeal and said, ‘I think that’s just wonderful; it’s sort of come full circle, hasn’t it?’ ”

  The kind of excessive glamour Tom Gates describes was something Larry Fortensky knew very little about—and something at which Elizabeth Taylor excelled. During this same time, she introduced two new fragrances, White Diamonds for women and, for the opposite sex, Passion for Men. One launch party for the new perfumes was at the New York Stock Exchange. Her date? 416

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  Saudi arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi. Earlier in the year, he had hosted her at his home in Cannes in the south of France, and a few years earlier she was his guest at his ten-bedroom home in Marbella, on Spain’s Costa del Sol. At that 5,000-acre estate, he kept a pen of 70,000 of his own pheasants for shoots. He also had a stable of Arabian stallions. And those were just two of the twelve residences he owned. While in New York for the Stock Exchange party, Elizabeth stayed at Khashoggi’s opulent $25 million apartment at the Olympia Tower on Fifth Avenue. The place had its own Olympic swimming pool, not to mention $30 million worth of artwork.

  By contrast, Larry Fortensky lived in a modest two-bedroom apartment, which he rented. He couldn’t offer her much more than a double cheeseburger with fries. Working in construction, he was a member of Teamsters Local 420 in Los Angeles and operated an off-road Caterpillar dirt compactor, making $18.50 an hour. His Teamsters insurance had covered the cost of his Betty Ford stay. Elizabeth viewed him as a good and hardworking friend, but with little to no potential as a romantic partner. She liked his company, though, and by early 1989 she was often inviting him to her Bel Air home for the weekend. He didn’t feel he fit in very well, but he liked her too, and accepted her invitations. Still, despite their obvious differences, there was something between Elizabeth and Larry. As their friendship progressed into 1989, she found a new and different level of intimacy with him because they had both been in the same group therapy. They had been revealed to each other during that process in a way that was unlike any other. “You get to know someone real fast when you are in a group therapy, in a recovery program. All the bullshit is stripped away,” Elizabeth said. “We just started instantly to know each other. He knew I could see through him, and I knew he could see through me.” He was also handsome with his Nordic features and rock-solid, muscled body. Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from falling for him and, in fact, she didn’t wish to do it. The power differential was obvious, yet somehow it seemed not The Glory Years

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  to matter. Their relationship was played out in a way that was totally unique in the life of Elizabeth Taylor: She was sober for it. Therefore, the melodramatic nature of her previous seven courtships before marriage was missing from this one, and it opened up wonderful opportunities for them to pursue their relationship without the unpredictable interference of drug and alcohol abuse. He was quiet and unassuming—or at least he was in the beginning of their relationship—and also very strong and dependable. She appreciated his grassroots common sense. He had no patience for the petty interpersonal politics of her business and was able to see people for who they were and not be swayed by whatever image they were putting forth. He was a strong judge of character, which she admired about him. He was also open-minded, or at least he tried to be. He’d not known a single gay man until he started socializing with Elizabeth, and then he quickly became exposed to that different way of life. It wasn’t easy for him to adjust to some of the more flamboyant members of Elizabeth’s circle, but, still, he tried. If he’d openly shown any prejudice or judgment toward her friends in front of her, he would have been out on his ear. He didn’t, though. Soon he was working with an important AIDS

  community group in Los Angeles called Project Angel Food, taking meals to AIDS patients. He also cleaned the charity headquarters’ large ovens twice a week. As the year progressed, Elizabeth Taylor continued to work with amfAR and with her burgeoning fragrance business, as well as in television movies. She took the role of the failing and aging once-great star, Alexandra del Lago, in Tennessee Williams’s Sweet Bird of Youth. Her younger lover, Chance Wayne, was played by St. Elsewhere’s Mark Harmon, the former UCLA quarterback turned “Sexiest Man Alive.” Linda Yellen, the movie’s executive producer, recalls, “Sweet Bird of Youth is about facing aging with pride and dignity a
nd appreciation. I do recall that Tennessee wondered if people would totally believe that this was about a woman—Elizabeth—who had been the greatest star in the world. 418

  Elizabeth

  But our first and only choice was Elizabeth Taylor. Tennessee’s writing was not always reality but a kind of heightened reality, a lyrical reality, and she’s one of the few actresses who somehow made it believable. When you heard her speak it, it was just in perfect character. She understood what his rhythms were about.”

  During the filming of the movie, there were rumors swirling about Elizabeth and the much younger—twenty-one years—Larry Fortensky. Once again, her movies reflected her life. Or was it the other way around? After so many years and so many mirror images, which came first—her real life or her reel life—was always the subject of great discussion among aficionados of her work. In the spring of 1989, Larry moved into Elizabeth’s home. He came with one suitcase containing two pairs of worn-out blue jeans, three cowboy shirts, a pair of crusty old work boots, tennis shoes, underwear . . . and no socks. “Now, you’ll sleep here,” Elizabeth said cheerily. She showed him spacious accommodations she calls “the Yellow Room.” It’s one of the guest rooms. He unpacked and made himself at home.

  One day, about a month later, Elizabeth’s cook came out of the kitchen carrying a breakfast tray. She saw Larry and felt sorry for him. He seemed so out of place. What was he doing there, anyway? None of the staff knew for sure. Was he Elizabeth’s boyfriend? Or just a visitor? “Here,” said the cook, handing him the tray and putting him to work. “Why don’t you take this up to Elizabeth.” Instead of being insulted, Larry smiled, took the tray, and climbed the steps to the master bedroom. He knocked on the door, entered the room, and closed the door. Hours later, he came back out, went downstairs, gathered his belongings, and moved them all into Elizabeth’s bedroom. He and Elizabeth had become lovers.

  Needless to say, Elizabeth’s protective circle was concerned about this surprising new plot twist in The Elizabeth Taylor Story. Who was this hard hat, how did he gain access to Elizabeth, and what was his true agenda? It took some explaining, but she was able to convince most of her concerned friends and family mem-The Glory Years 419

  bers that she knew what she was doing, and that even if she didn’t she was too old, and too experienced, to be lectured about her choices. Meanwhile, Larry would keep his construction job. Yes, it was strange, but also very sweet and endlessly fascinating. She would awaken at 4 a.m. in order to have breakfast with him before he left for work. Then he would have his day and she would have hers. Finally, at 4 p.m., he would return, sweaty and tired, to his movie-star girlfriend’s Bel Air cocoon, where he would then be pampered by her prodigious household staff as they exchanged details of their experiences in the outside world. Sometimes she would meet him at his construction site. Imagine how it must have made Larry look to his coworkers when Elizabeth Taylor would show up to bring him a bag of treats for break time. Typically, she would sit with the hard hats and try to get to know them because, as she put it, “Look, if he’s going to get to know my friends, I am going to show him the same courtesy.”

  Benny Reuben worked with Larry in early 1990 on a construction site in Studio City, California. He recalls, “Man, we’re working in the hot sun and at about 2 p.m. a white Mercedes pulls up and we’re looking at it trying to see who it is, and, Jesus Christ if the door doesn’t open up and it’s Elizabeth Taylor. I’m thinking,

  ‘What the hell is Elizabeth Taylor doing here?’ I’m looking for the cameras, thinking we’re on Candid Camera or something. She walks right over to Larry and plants a big one right on the kisser. And he says, ‘Elizabeth, you can’t be here without a hard hat.’ He hands her one, and she puts it on. I’m thinking, okay, this is a dream. She turns to us and says, ‘Hello, boys.’ Most down-to-earth woman you’d ever want to meet. She brought doughnuts, coffee. Afterward, I said, ‘What the hell, man? Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Liz Taylor?’ He said, ‘You didn’t ask.’ Like I woulda asked, ‘Hey Larry, you dating Liz Taylor?’ Damnedest thing ever. She started coming round regularly after that. We’d be asking, ‘So, Larry, is Liz comin’ today?’ He’d say, ‘You call her Liz and she’ll hit you over the head with that shovel.’ So we always called her Elizabeth. Classy lady, all around.”

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  Elizabeth

  At the beginning of 1990, Larry had to prove his mettle. First, Elizabeth’s constant companion Malcolm Forbes died in February. She was crushed by the loss.

  Then, a month later, in March, she became deathly ill. Larry learned that if a man wants to be with Elizabeth Taylor, he has to be the kind of person who won’t run for the hills when she becomes ill, because her health is always an issue in their relationship. She contracted a simple virus infection that advanced into a pulmonary virus, causing her to have to be admitted to Saint John’s hospital in Santa Monica. It was a terrible time. The doctors told her she was going to die—again! They wanted to put her on life support. She refused to allow it, afraid that she would end up a “vegetable,” she said. Finally, a doctor got huffy with her and said, “Look, you are a dying woman, now sign this goddamn paper.” (Some bedside manner!) She did, but she didn’t like it. However, she was scared enough to first call her attorney and make out a living will that stipulated that if she was unconscious for more than two weeks, they would “pull the plug.” Of course . . . she lived—but only after a very painful open-lung biopsy. But then death struck another friend of hers: Her very good consort, Halston, succumbed to AIDS while she was in the hospital; he was just fifty-seven, the same age as she. She couldn’t even attend his funeral. Then she was diagnosed with the fungal infection, candidiasis. The treatment was horrendous; it took months; she was hospitalized from March to June. Larry stayed at the Bel Air home while she was in the hospital, keeping the homestead running in her absence. Truly, she was able to depend on him, and his dependability made her feel that she wasn’t alone in the world. Also, much of her lifestyle was new to him and she delighted in his discovery of so many things she’d been taking for granted for years. For instance, he’d never even been on an airplane until she took him to Gstaad for Christmas in 1990 to show how much she appreciated his help that year. Somehow he managed not to feel insecure around her, not to be intimidated by her worldliness and The Glory Years

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  his apparent lack of sophistication. She appreciated that about him, and soon she was in love with him. He felt the same way. Elizabeth’s work for amfAR continued to be successful, and by 1990 the charity had collected $30 million, largely due, no doubt, to her involvement. In 1991 she established the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, through which she would now channel her philanthropic work for AIDS research and care. “I want to know that all the money that’s donated is going to patient care,” she later told Charles Champlin of the Los Angeles Times, “whether it’s counseling, legal help, food, needle exchange, condoms. Whatever it is, I tag it so it doesn’t go into some executive’s pocket or for office space. Those are things that have to be paid and I’m not knocking them. But I have no staff. I pay for all the underwriting myself, and I want the money to go to the patient.”

  That same year, the disease hit even closer to home for Elizabeth with the tragic death of her personal secretary, Roger Wall, who had worked for her for six years. Wall took his own life after learning that he had HIV. He was just forty-two. Elizabeth, who had given him about $40,000 toward his medical care, took it hard, saying it was “one of the biggest losses of my life . . . such a sweet, lovely man.”

  The years were flying by, and she was busy. Yet Larry didn’t have a lot to do. He still had his job as a construction worker, but what about his weekends? He decided to have a new security system installed in the house in 1991, and Elizabeth agreed to it. Hers was woefully outdated. He began then to catalog her paintings, bronze statues, costly crystals, and rare books. Then he went to work on her expansive, and expensive, jewelry collection. He ga
ve up on that, though. (It would have taken him a year to finish the job.) However, what he had finished, he carefully compiled into a catalog. But instead of putting the heavy journal into a safe, he proudly displayed it on a coffee table in the living room. When his friends came to visit, he used it to give tours of Elizabeth’s home, as if it were a museum. “See this painting,” he would 422

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  say, pointing at a photo of it in the catalog, and then at the real thing on the wall. “It cost a million bucks. Wow, huh?”

  Michael Jackson

  T he wedding invitation, which was designed by Cartier, was a simple and classic white card with black type:

  Mr. Michael Jackson

  requests the pleasure of your company

  at the marriage of his beloved friend

  Miss Elizabeth Taylor

  To Mr. Larry Fortensky

  On Sunday, the sixth of October 1991

  at 5 p.m.