D AV I D PAT R I C K C O L U M B I A might have been a cocktail party given by Ellen and Ian Graham, a popular non-industry, social couple who often entertained at their home in Beverly Hills. She lived in a smart A-framed, yellow and white two-story bungalow on Hollywood Boulevard, up in the hills above the Chateau Marmont. It was not an Italianate mansion like Gloria Swanson’s in Sunset Boulevard. It was a pristine, immaculately maintained cottage with that classic 180-degree view from her front door of the Los Angeles basin, all framed and mainly hidden from the road by her manicured gardens and hedges. Behind the house was a large swimming pool and inside was a cheerful, faux-rustic interior of bleached white beams, white brick fireplace,
and 1950s modern furniture. It was ample in space and impeccably maintained—and devoid of anything personal such as photographs. She’d lived in that house from the late 1940s or early 1950s until the end of her life. I remembered seeing it first in the movie magazines I looked at back then. Set on a hillock above the boulevard, semi-hidden behind greenery and white, wooden gates that opened to a 30- or 40foot driveway, it looked like a movie star lived there. Over the years, I’d go there many times. It was always remained immaculately maintained and perfectly set. When first getting to know her, I’d see her when she called to ask me if I’d like to go with her to an event. It was always interesting to be
a combination of escort, fan, and writer. It was at Lizabeth’s invitation that I met the Dalai Llama at a private reception at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, where she was an important donor. Despite her faded star, she had retired (though I never heard her use that word) a wealthy woman. She lived comfortably, drove a shiny black Jaguar (which she loved and kept in mint condition), and kept herself in sumptuous furs and dazzling jewels. She wore expensive designer clothes that looked like they were made for her by Oscar de la Renta, Bill Blass, and Chanel as well as her friend Estevez. She was a very private person. As curious as I am, I rarely asked her anything personal about her life unless she opened the door for
question. There had been a long time boyfriend named Bill Dugger, a wealthy, handsome oilman from San Antonio. She always referred to him with great lingering regret in her voice, as if to suggest that she was ill fated in that department. In 1969, they were planning to marry after spending a lot of time together over the previous two years, when he died suddenly. He’d remembered her generously in his will, but his sister contested it and, in 1971, the judge ruled in favor of the sister. But long before that, back in the early 1940s, Wallis (head of production at Warner Brothers) had seen her in a show on Broadway and was taken by her. Film people in those days saw all the Broadway shows because they were
G EO F F R E Y B R A D F I E L D C U R AT E D “ W H I T A N D W H I M SY ” AT S E B A ST I A N + B A R Q U E T
Ines and Ramis Barquet 40 QUEST
Olga Raganelli and Vita Dauksaite
Douglas Steinbrech and Georgina Schaeffer
Michael and Tara Rockefeller with Geoffrey Bradfield
Paul Salkind and Nancy Waites
Amy Hoadley and Barbara de Portago
PAT R I C K M C M U LL A N
Lee Robinson and Mark Gilbertson