I'd been warned about her but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of who she was - a deathly thin, stern looking woman with severely cropped black hair and a wizened face that belied not a shred of humanity behind it. In a voice and demeanor that was so harsh and authoritative that it scared the bejeezuz out of me, she ordered that no pictures were to be taken of Miss Taylor that night: "None. Absolutely not one frame." And then she assigned a body guard to me to enforce her orders.
I assured The Dragon Lady and the bodyguard that I would not take any pictures of Miss Taylor, reminding them that I wasn't a paparazzo and that I'd been hired by the producer of the show and that not only did I have a right to be there but that I also had a job to do. I'm sure she didn't hear a word I said. I would guess that she never heard a word anybody ever said, unless of course it was spoken by Elizabeth Taylor. I think all of Hollywood breathed a sigh of relief when she died.
Too harsh? Not if you ever had to deal with her.
I worried for awhile about how I was going to photograph a party for Elizabeth Taylor without getting any pictures of Elizabeth Taylor, but I had nothing to worry about since she stayed pretty much out of sight for most of the evening. She was very overweight and not in good health, which probably explained her reticence at being photographed up close.
Be that as it may, the bodyguard followed me around and snarled at me anytime my camera and Miss Taylor happened to be in the same room. At one point he grabbed my arm and jerked me around, almost causing me to drop my camera. In some unfathomable roided-out foreign accent he barked, "Ve told you - no pictures of Taylor." I jerked my arm away from his grasp, went storming over to the Dragon Lady and in a blistering dress-down told her that if she didn't call off the pit-bull I'd raise hell with the producer of the show, with the Fords and with Miss Taylor herself if I had to.
"I promised you I wouldn't take any pictures of Miss Taylor and I won't. I have a job to do and you guys are fucking it up for me. You and the bodyguard back off or there's going to be hell to pay."
The Dragon Lady had met her match and I think she knew it. (You know that old saying about never crossing a Scorpio...) The pit-bull was called off and I managed to get some decent shots of the guests finally, most of whom were really thrilled to have some lighthearted, relaxed pictures taken with their buddies from Hollywood. And I did it without bumping into the bodyguard every time I backed up.
I was hired to photograph America's All-Star Tribute to Elizabeth Taylor by the man who produced the show. The extravaganza was mounted in Palm Springs at the McCallum Center for the Performing Arts and then televised nationally a few weeks later. A private party was held in Ms. Taylor's honor at Gerald and Betty Ford's home the night before and I was the only photographer allowed to be at the party. After the extraordinary ordeal of getting through security just to get into the Ford's compound on the Thunderbird Estates, I was greeted inside by Ms. Taylor's manager; a woman who was known far and wide as "The Dragon Lady," a nickname that I soon learned was well-deserved.
The picture that got away was much later in the evening as the guests were leaving the party. I saw Ann Miller coming towards me weaving in and out around the tables and chairs with quite some difficulty - she'd obviously had a little bit too much to drink. As she saw me standing there with my camera by my side she instantly straightened herself up, threw on a million megawatt smile while throwing one hand up in the air and struck a stunning pose with one of those famous gams pushed out from the thigh-high slit in her sequined gown.
I quickly raised the camera to my eye but alas, there was no more film in it. Not wanting to disappoint her, I reached up and fired the flash manually a few times while pretending to take a few pictures. She nodded obligingly and went on her way, leaving me to ponder how astonishingly skilled she'd been at pulling herself together and striking a pose for a camera that wasn't even pointed at her. I think that there's something about cameras that cause an automatic reaction in people who been used to being in front of them all their lives.
I would guess that the amount of time that passed between when Ann Miller saw my camera and when she was ready for the shot was oh, about, five tenths of a second.
At one point while Kenny Rogers and I were chewing the fat about bola ties, which both of us happened to be wearing that night, Betty Ford came up to me, graciously reached out her hand and introduced herself, asking if I would mind terribly getting a shot of her with Carol Burnett. "I would love to," I responded, thinking how funny it was that Betty Ford of all people at this party, would think that she needed to introduce herself to me. Her graciousness and modesty were endearing and I found myself instantly falling in love with her. She went on like a star-struck fan about how she'd always wanted her picture taken with Carol Burnett, all the while trying to get Carol's attention through the crowd. The two women wrapped their arms around each other like giggling school girls with a secret, leaned their cheeks into each other and offered up what has become one of my favorite moments of the evening.
As disappointed as I was not to have been able to get any pictures of Elizabeth Taylor that night, (not to mention how disappointed the producer of the show was) I had a lot of fun with everybody else. Bob Hope was pretty carefully protected by his wife and handlers most of the evening but I did manage to get one good shot of that famous profile of his as he was turning to talk to somebody off to my right.
I kept my word and didn't shoot a single frame of Elizabeth Taylor that night but waited till the following evening when she was on stage and the rest of the world was looking at her to finally take a few pictures. There is something magical about her no matter what state her body and mind might be in. Every time she enters a room you can feel the electricity all around you. She is of course, the closest thing us Yanks have to royalty.
Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth.
Long may she reign.
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