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On this Page 48
The LIFE and LOVES
of RICHARD BURTON
. In 1956 Richard Burton was in the depths of
despair. His Hollywood films had been disastrous,
and now, in London, his season at the Old Vic, where he
had been playing "Othello," had ended with lukewarm
notices. There was no further demand for him.
RICHARD swiftly
moved out of
London and became a
Swiss resident as a kind
of retaliation for life's
not appreciating him.
There was one fact about
him that no one could deny.
He was rich--rich not only
by his boyhood Welsh stan-
dards but by anyone's
standards.
So he played it debonairly
in the magnificent chateau
he 'bought in Switzerland.
Sybil said she loved this
new high country. She loved
the Swiss. She loved the
food, the quietness. Richard
smiled at her fondly. He
didn't tell her of the many
hours when he asked him-
self, "What am I doing?"
It is well for art that
Richard Burton was rescued.
His rescuer was a highly
intelligent, highly educated,
very civilised Hollywood pro-
ducer named Milton Sper-
ling, head of an outfit called
United States Pictures.
However, when Sperling
went after Richard Burton,
he wanted him to star in a
Broadway production of what
he fondly thought was a very
superior play called "Time
Remembered."
He had already signed his
chief star, an actress who
simply could not fail no
matter what her vehicle. She
was the so-called "First Lady
of the American Theatre,"
Miss Helen Hayes.
Richard returned with
alacrity to London and
started rehearsals.
Today in Hollywood,
Milton Sperling says of
"Time Remembered":
"What happened was
the impossible. Helen Hayes
did have a flop. I closed the
play because we were
steadily operating in the red.
Nevertheless, I signed Burton
for 'The Bramble Bush,'
and I returned to Hollywood
to make plans for it."
Warner Brothers, who
released Sperling's pictures,
thought he had gone stark
raving mad when he said
that he had signed Richard
Burton.
They might not even have
let Sperling go on with his
production plans if right at
that moment Burton hadn't
gone into a low-hudget film
in England made by a young
Britisher no one really knew
back then. They know him
today - Tony Richardson,
the producer-director who
won last year's Academy
Award for "Tom Jones."
Richardson made a realis-
tic, fine picture, "Look Back
In Anger." Richard was
elated by it.
He told the Press, "This
film has a sex message. To
me sex is the overwhelming
urge and driving force in all
human beings, male or
female."
As he said that, his leading
lady looked at him with
adoring eyes. She was Claire
Bloom, who had been so
attracted to him during
"Alexander The Great." She
was still attracted to him.
Richard added, "I cannot
act with a person unless
I'm powerfully, sexually
interested. I can't bear to be
on the same stage with her
Sybil treated him as
though he were her
naughty, charming son
otherwise." Claire Bloom,
with her dark hair, her dark
eyes, her quietness, was the
type he always preferred.
The word of the Burton
Bloom flirtation also seeped
back to Hollywood, although
the . film, colony had much
livelier gossip - Elizabeth
Taylor and Michael Wilding
had separated, and the
newest and most dynamic
producer in Hollywood, Mike
Todd, was passionately in
love with her and planning
to marry her.
When "Look Back In
Anger" came out, the Ameri-
can and British critics ran
up flags over it.
Hope came back to
Richard Burton because of it,
hope and self-confidence.
Then he received more
personal news that set his
ego on high again: after ten
barren years, he was about to
become a father.
Six months later the whole
prospect pleased him so
much that he paid no atten-
tion to the failure of a pic-
ture, called "Bitter Victory,"
he made in Libya during
Syb's pregnancy. It was
terrible.
Another birth had hap-
pened* that previous sum-
mer that was to have much
more bearing on Richard's
future life, and which
he paid no attention to at
the time.
In New York, a baby girl
was born prematurely to
Elizabeth and Mike Todd.
They named her Liza.
Richard Burton couldn't
possibly foresee that little
Miss Liza Todd would, in
1964, tag after him wherever
he went, deeply loving him
and he loving her, too.
Back there in 1959, with
Sybil so close to her time,
Richard returned alone to
Hollywood to fulfil the
Sperling contract.
He soon found that just
as he had changed so had
Hollywood. Bogie had died
of cancer and Lauren Bacall
was Frank Sinatra's girl.
Cole Porter was ailing and
seldom giving parties. James
and Pamela Mason were not
as happy as they had once
been together.
Jean Simmons, who had
borne a daughter and named
her Tracy Granger after
Spencer Tracy, was separat-
ing from Stewart Granger
and he was returning to
England.
Melancholy swept over
Richard Burton. He felt
bereft, by life, by fortune.
The dream of becoming the
world's greatest actor still
stayed with him, but he had
not yet reached that summit
to which he aspired.
Then Sybil telephoned
from Switzerland. She and
the baby were doing fine. It
was a girl.
Pamela Mason says, "I
knew Richard was deeply
disappointed that he, the
great Welshman, had not had
a son."
They named the baby
Kate, in honor of Shake-
speare's "Taming of the
Shrew."
Sybil left Kate at the
earliest moment possible,
with fine nurses, to join her
husband in Hollywood.
Milton Sperling says,
"The moment Sybil came,
Richard turned into the most
devoted husband. He was
with Sybil constandy. By
that time the relationship
between them was very
interesting, because Sybi
treated him as though hi
were her son, her naughty
charming son.
"She was very indulgent
like a mother, and ver
fond of him, clearly, and b
was clearly fond of her, too
"It was fascinating ti
watch them together
because she was very digrii
fled, very clever, very arti
culate and witty.
"She had a kindly manne
toward him, as though sh
were saying, 'Oh, Richard
come on now, dear. Time ti
go home, dear.'
"She is, of course, a fey
years his junior, but sb
looked older because of he
prematurely grey hair. I
suggested the materna
thing, and having seer
Richard, prior to her arrival
with so many young womei
it was startling.
"I often wondered if sb
realised, as I think ever
man around him realised
that his attitude towart
women was Elizabethan
They were playthings, ever
chattels, yet his attitudf
toward them was never
nasty, always charming.'
After "The Brambk
Bush," Richard started on
"Ice Palace," a film from
which he made something
like half a million dollars.
"The Bramble Bush,"
because it was made inex-
pensively, was a small
success. "Ice Palace," because
it was made extravagantl)
was a tremendous flop.
That time when Richard
Burton left Hollywood
almost no one noticed o'
cared. , .
If anyone had prophesy
that in 1964 he would be*
most discussed actor in *
world, the film colony wouM
have told such a prophet W
run, not walk, to the neare1
psychiatrist.
Or, if anyone had tol«
Rich that he was abo«' "
fall truly in love, experien«
emotions such as he W
never felt before, alter W
way of living, and attain '
dramatic heights which *
35 were still eluding him, J
would have shrivelled suC
a talker with scorn.
Yet he, the great laf
* «I frU I"
man, was to say, l i
love at once. She was li*c
mirage of beauty of the ag
irresistible, like the pu"
gravity.
"She has everyth"1*
want m a woman, ¿Dtf

FINAL INSTALMENT

I '-1

J

quite unlike any woman 1
, have ever known. She make!

me "ot want to know any
other woman, believe me,

jincerely.

' "I think of her morning,

noon, and night. I dream ol
her. She will be my greatest

happiness - for ever, of

; course."

He was talking of Eliza-
beth Taylor Hilton Wilding
Todd Fisher, and though he
didn't know it in 1960, as
little Jessica Burton was
born, he was talking of his

second wife.

In January, I960, two
highly talented gentlemen
huddled together in New
York City. Their names
were Alan Jay Lerner and
Frederick Loewe. Their
purpose was to write a great
musical for the Broadway

stage.

The fact that they had
already written the most
successful musical ever pro-
duced, "My Fair Lady," was
what was challenging them

in 1960.

"Camelot" was
soon to be born

Their first step toward
another hit was buying a
piece of excellent writing.

They chose "The Once
and Future King," by T. H.
White, a quite irreverent
retelling of the legends con-
cerning King Arthur and his
Knights of the Round Table,
with special attention given
to the Knight called

Lancelot

The love interest centred
on the exquisite Lady
Guinevere, the King, and

Lancelot.

Alan Lerner began his
work by retitling the story.
He named it "Camelot"
after the setting of King

Arthur's Court

This inspired Loewe to do
a musical number called "If
Ever I Should Leave You."

Thinking about the staging
of such a number, the part-
ners thought of Moss Hart.

Moss Hart was a genius
at anything in the theatre,
writing, directing, produc-
ing; first of all Lerner
and Loewe wanted him to

help them with casting, to
discover the perfect players
of every role, and then do
the staging.

Hart signed with them.

The trio, old friends,
agreed that there was only
one actress they would even
consider for Queen Guine-
vere. This was lissom, lovely,
pure-voiced Julie Andrews,
who had been Broadway's
"My Fair Lady."

Julie was delighted to be

m "Camelot."

Next came the problem of
finding the ideal King

Arthur.

It was Moss Hart who
thought of him first.
Richard Burton," he sud-
denly suggested in one of

»Dtn0 S conierences.

. Richard Burton? He can
«n??» asked Loewe.

Richard Burton," said
**n Lerner thinking out

St ""^ look at He

couW act ¡t But "

'But nothing," said Hart.
11 have never forgotten him
.PW* V** the scrip* of

2 ^y«*.' He is
ïtor" dy «"Pendus

"Give it a try," said
Lerner and Loewe in unison.

The call went through
the very next day, loud and
clear, to Switzerland. Rich-
ard Burton was free as a
lark and loathing it. He felt
stagnant, as though he had
read every book in middle
Europe, let alone Switzer-

land.

He was being a good
husband, and that bored
him. Sybil was blissfully
looking after the two babies.
Contentment reigned so
constantly that to get back
to acting Richard would
have gone into a Punch and
Judy show.

Everything changed with
Moss Hart's telephone call.

He did not ask to read
the script, which was just
as well since the script had

none Help

not yet been written. He
did not ask who else was in
the show.

Julie Andrews had married
her childhood sweetheart,
Tony Walton, in May, the
year previous to the start of

"Camelot."

They had been quietly
wed, during the busy, wildly
successful months of Julie's
"My Fair Lady," and every-
one around the company
proclaimed that they would
obviously live happily ever

after.

Nevertheless, the late
spring day when Richard
Burton reported for his first
rehearsal, the assembled cast
of "Camelot" saw it happen.
The Burton magnetism was
ablaze. Julie Andrews Walton
was distinctly shaken. So was
Tony Walton.

Love and marriage were
temporarily saved by every-
thing going wrong with

"Camelot."

Spring merged into the
heat of summer. They always
seemed to be rehearsing,
rewriting, reharmonising.

Summer cooled into fall.
They were still rehearsing,
changing everything, learning
the changes, trying them out,
discovering they were wrong,
forgetting them, learning new
changes.

Eveiything was wrong -
but getting to right before
the show was due to open
on Broadway.

In all the turmoil back-
stage, no one had time to
read the papers, so no one
noticed in September that
Elizabeth Taylor, with Eddie
Fisher and her children, had
arrived in London to start
"Cleopatra."

"Camelot" finally opened
on Broadway on Decem-
ber 3, 1960. It was some-
what damned with faint

praise, but the audiences
adored it and one thing the
critics did not quibble over

was Richard Burton.

With a million dollars in
the box-office assuring a long
run, Richard was king of
Broadway.

Presently, a tall, beauti-
ful girl from the Copaca-
bana nightclub began being
seen in his dressing-room.
She was such a shift in type

for him, so very blonde in
contrast to Julie Andrews.

Backstage at "Camelot"
was a merry place. Richard
called his dressing - room
"Burton's Bar," and every
night it was thronged, before
the show, between the acts,
after the show.

None of them was aware,
Richard least of all, that fate
was already setting up a
supreme test of his heroics.

Even as he was being the
great catch, the great light
of New York's glorious
Christmas holiday parties,
"Cleopatra" in London

closed down for the third
time since September.

The headlines said this
was due to Elizabeth Taylor's
succession of illnesses all the

way from colds in the head
to impacted wisdom teeth to
pneumonia. Her doctors had

ordered her back to Cali-

fornia to recuperate in the

sun.

Actually, however, there
was.much more to the clos-
ing of "Cleopatra" than
that. Like "Camelot," it was
having script troubles. It
was having management

troubles.

Walter Wanger, the pro-
ducer, was worried on
every level, but particularly
over the eternal problem of
casting. Peter Finch, who had
already done quite a few
scenes as Julius Caesar, had
had to bow out when the

none Help

. Elizabeth Taylor Burton leaving a nursing home in London in 1968 with
Richard and his daughter Kate by his marriage to Sybil, picture left.

film was postponed. He had
signed to do a London play
in February.

Wanger tried to get
Laurence Olivier. He didn't
succeed. He discussed the

idea of luring Rex Harrison
with Elizabeth. She was very

enthusiastic.

Stopping off in New York,
while Elizabeth flew straight
through to California,
Wanger found he could get
Harrison, and immediately
signed him up.

But this made him ponder
the problem of Stephen
Boyd, who was under con-
tract to Twentieth Century
Fox, and had, 'therefore, been
given the role of Mark
Antony. Wanger felt insecure
about a performer like Boyd
up against the wily Harrison.

There in New York,
Wanger discovered there was
only one actor being talked
about everywhere - Richard

Burton.

Chorus girl

was there, too

To reassure himself, he
went to see "Camelot."
Then he went back to call

on Burton in person.

He had to push through
the throng in Burton's Bar
to find him. He told Richard
what he had in mind.
Would he be interested?

Rich took it very
debonairly. "We can't talk
here," he said. "How about
our going over to '21'?"
Wanger agreed. As Rich
stood up to go, the crowd
cleared out of the room, all
except the tall, beautiful,
blonde chorus girl.

Mr. Burton asked Mr.

Wanger if he minded if the
lady came along with them
while they talked.

Walter didn't mind a bit.
He always has had an eye
himself for pretty girls.
Besides, he understood actors.

Over a table at "21"
Richard told Wanger that
he had a run of the play

contract with "Camelot."

But he did add that he was

interested in "Cleopatra."

Like any actor with real
temperament, Burton was
becoming bored with the
repetitions of the play, night
after night, and there was
no telling how long the run
would go on.

Besides, he still wanted to
conquer hims, and he knew,
in the back of his analytical

mind, that he had failed
there.

"Let me start negotiations
and see what happens,"
Wanger said as they parted.

Richard did not have long
to wait. Within a few weeks,
his agent informed him that
for a payment of $50,000
Lerner and Loewe had
agreed to let him out of
"Camelot" on September
16, 1961.

Then, within another few
weeks, Hugh French brought
him the contract from

Twentieth Century-Fox for
his signature. Dazedly, he
signed it. It guaranteed him
a salary of $250,000 for
three months. If "Cleopatra"
ran overtime, he would earn
nearly twice that much.

Immediately, he was to
have Rome, plus a villa, plus
a household staff, plus trans-
portation for him and Syb
and the children, plus $1000

a week for what Twentieth

Century-Fox called "small
expenses."

On the night of September

16 the audience at

"Camelot," knowing that he
was leaving, adored every-
thing he did. When it came

to the final curtain the
whole house went wild.

Julie, the darling, insisted
upon leaving the stage so
that he stood alone, receiv-
ing the acclaim all by him-
self. The curtain rose and
fell, rose and fell, as he
bowed and bowed.

Finally the curtain came
down and stayed down. The
house lights within the
theatre blazed up. He could
hear the crowd going away.
He was very close to tears.

His plane for Geneva was
to depart the next day. The

so-called Celebrity Lounge at
Idlewild was jammed with
reporters and photographers
when he arrived with Syb

and the children.

"Excited about playing
opposite Elizabeth Taylor,

Mr. Burton?"

He grinned. "I've known
Liz for 12 years. I realise it
is a little ridiculous to say

that she is a dear friend of
mine. Let's say we know one
another and respect one
another. And we will, I'm
sure, find it very interesting
to play together."

He was being cagy and
smooth and how well he
knew it.

Richard had not intended
to be rude to Elizabeth
Taylor that first day when
they met on the set of
"Cleopatra." He had not
originally meant to bait her
by whispering to her,

"You're too fat."

He had, however, had a
few drinks before arriving
and drink always brought
out the imp in him.
Besides, the sight of her had
been, as he was to admit
later, "so bloody marvel-
lous" that he was shaken.

Up undi that moment he
had always argued that all
women were the same,
because men's appetites
were always the same.

Looking at Elizabeth,
however, approaching him
regally, seeing her startling
face, her sensual figure,
knowing that her salary was
four times his $250,000, he
had an irresistible impulse
to strike out at her, both
physically and mentally.

He looked with scorn at
Eddie Fisher tagging respect-
fully behind her.

It reminded him of what
a friend had told him about
the Fishers when they had
attended the Moscow Film
Festival the previous summer.
There, at the official recep-
tions, Eddie would really
behave like a consort.

Wherever they went, he

Turn to page 57

The LIFE and LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

ç^vé from page 49

would just get out of the
way and play second fiddle.

When Premier Kruschev
came over to greet Elizabeth,
Eadie had simply dis-
appeared until Elizabeth had
chatted for several minutes
with the then number one
Communist. It was Elizabeth
who had turned and sum-
moned Eddie to meet Mr.

Kruschev.

All during that Russian

trip, the story ran, she was
still weak from her close
bout with death. Eddie had
held her by the arm, sup-
porting her, but always
stepped aside, self-effacingly,
when anyone approached her.

Actually, Richard had
been told, when they were
at their hotel, Eddie came
up third in her entourage.
First there was Alexandre,
Paris' most famous hair-
dresser, then Kurt Frings,
her agent from Hollywood,
and, finally, Eddie.

Recalling that, Mr. Burton
made up his mind to take
her down a peg, several pegs.
So he whispered to her,
"You're too fat." Only then,
as with her beauty, he was

once more startled.

Anger flamed up into her
eyes, but beyond that

instantaneous reaction of
hers he saw something more.
She looked at him with a
slow, positive suggestion of

power.

Elizabeth- .
eternal woman

It was a completely female
expression, mysterious,
insinuating. He was held by
it, while a tingle of fear and
excitement ran along his
nerves. He had never
encountered such a look
before.

They were called into the
scene at that moment. They
did not exchange another
word except those of the bit
of drama he and she and

Harrison were then to play.
It wasn't an important scene,
and for three performers as
experienced as they it was
quickly, impersonally done.

Then Mankiewicz dis-
missed Richard.

He left later that same
afternoon for the shooting
with the second unit in
Spain. He had not even said
farewell to Elizabeth.

He was playing soldier
down there, in that tiny
Spanish village. The battle
sequences demanded very
little of him except his
physical presence, so he
found himself thinking of
Elizabeth, the strange woman
he had glimpsed in the depths
of those violet eyes, wonder-
ing just how he would handle
her when he got back to

Rome.

For, of course, he meant
to conquer her, if for no
other reason than to pay her
»»ck for that prickling jolt
of fear she had given him.

He would put her down,
down into the lowly place
that any woman deserved to
be around any man.

It was exciting, however,
to contemplate. She was the
most provocative female cita-
del he had ever yet chal-
lenged.

Tn« first morning he

reported back to Rome he
was pleased to find Joe
Mankiewicz waiting for him
in his dressing-room. It
seemed that the shooting
schedule had been changed,
and Joe had personally
brought Burton his lines for

a love scene.

"Fm sorry to do this to
you," Joe explained, "but I
finished writing this one only
last night, and to shoot it
today works out better with
our set schedule. I've sent
Elizabeth's over to her villa
for her to memorise, so she
will be here in about another
hour. Can you learn this

that soon?"

"Easily." He looked at the
pages. It was, he saw, a
beautifully written love scene.

"I'd like to wind up this
sequence by Friday night, if
we can," Joe explained. "It

is in Elizabeth's contract that

she doesn't work Saturdays."

"Do the rest of us peasants
work Saturdays?"

Joe grinned. "Yes, and
don't start anything."

The two men parted,
laughing. Now Richard had
another challenge, to see if
he could make Elizabeth
humble herself enough to
work Saturdays, just like
everyone else.

He'd soon find out. Once

they had played that love
scene, he would know much

more about her.

When they paged him to
the set, an hour later, he
was told Elizabeth had just
arrived on the lot. He stood

waiting, apparently relaxed.
He was virtually half nude

in the costume he was wear-

ing, but he liked the
deliberately virile effect of

it. His nerves were tense.

Then the whole set stirred,
and he looked up and saw
her approaching.

She had on a fantastic,
towering wig and another
very revealing costume. She
gave him a half smile.
Except for the hairdresser,

she was alone. He observed
that she had lost a good
deal of weight since he had
gone to Spain. His pulse
speeded up.

"Ready! Places!" Joe

Mankiewicz called out.

She moved into the scene
and he took her in his arms.
The scene was largely his.
He had most of the lines,
but he almost forgot them
during the first take, because
he was fascinated by her
technique, her use of
silence, her timing of her

lines.

When he kissed her, it was
as though he were suddenly
drugged.

The professional in him
saved him. His self-discipline
held - but so did hers.
They repeated the scene.

This time their lips were
more searching against one
another's lips, then freed to
speak, then searching again.
They repeated the scene
again. And again. Richard

lost track of the number of
times. It stopped being a

scene.

Then, finally, dimly, he
heard Joe Mankiewicz shout,
"Print it." He did not move,
nor did she. They were
standing, face to face, lips
crushed against lips.

"Would you two mind if

none Help

. Richard accompanied by Elizabeth Taylor,
in Mexico to make "Night of the Iguana," in
September, 1963. Their highly publicised
romance was at its most suspenseful, and
reporters and curious tourists swarmed around
them when they stepped off the plane.

I say cut?" asked Joe.
"Does it interest you that it

is time for lunch?"

Richard Burton was an
actor. He came back to

reality, laughed, dropped his
arms at his side. "I want a
beer," he said, and his voice
was a little too loud.

He waited until Elizabeth

was almost all the way
across the sound stage before
he called out to her. He
was recalfing, again, how
she brought Eddie to her
side. He played one of his

vocal tricks on her for the
sheer fun of it. He murmured

persuasively in a whisper

that could still reach her

across the great stage, "Liz,
come join us. Have lunch
in my dressing-room. We'll
have some laughs."

His smile
captivated

She turned around,
startled, and he smiled at
her, and he had reason to
know what his smile could
do to a woman. It did it

to this proud, fearless
creature. Even the most
insensitive people on that set
saw her turn into an eager
little girl, happy to obey a

decisive male voice.

She came running back
across the stage. Some of
his pals were already going
up the stairs toward Burton's
Bar. He glanced back to
smile at her again, and his
glance seemed to say that it
would be good for her not
always to be first.

That began it.

Oh, he paid no more
attention to her than he did
to any of the others jammed
in his dressing-room at
lunch time, yet he talked
about her to them, those
other females, those assorted

men.

He talked in front of her,
teasing her, flirting with her
in a manner that made the
color burn in her cheeks.

They all had quite a few

drinks.

There were love scenes to
film in the afternoon.

Between shots, as they
waited for the lights to be
adjusted or the camera put
in new range, Richard

called to Elizabeth.

She had gone, as was her
custom, to a rather queenly
chair at the side of the set
when they had come back
from lunch. It was a chair
reserved for her alone.

Rich called over to her,
"Come here and I'll tell you
a story." She ran over to him.
He did not rise. He just
pulled her head down and
whispered the yarn into her

ear. Her face became scarlet
as she let out a lusty hoot of
laughter.

So then he pulled her head
down again to whisper
another story, obviously just
as risque, just as funny.
Mankiewicz called them into
the new scene.

When they had finally done

it to the director's satisfac-
tion, Burton asked one of the
crew to please bring a chair
for Miss Taylor beside his.
After that, all through the
shooting of "Cleopatra," their
two chairs stayed side by

side.

They began another custom
on that first day's filming
together, too.

At the work day's ending,

she asked him to her elab-

orate dressing-room suite for
a drink. Later, much later,
he drove her through the

beautiful streets of Rome

back to the Villa Papa, the
$3000-a-month residence, set
in eight acres of gardens
which Twentieth Century

Fox had rented for her and
Eddie, the children, and the
pet menagerie.

The very next day, it was

known that Richard Burton

had driven Eizabeth Taylor
home the night before.
Within a few days it was
known that she was coming
to the studio all the time,

Turn to page 58

i The LIFE and LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

Continued from page 57

even on Saturdays, even on days
when her presence was not
required.

Yes, she was coming to the
studio whenever Richard Burton
was there.

Now, at night, a series of
parties sprang up, the Burtons
entertaining for the Fishers, the
Fishers entertaining for the
Burtons, and always Elizabeth

Taylor and Richard Burton sat
side by side, even though some-
times there were 40 or 50 in the
party, and sometimes only four.

Joe Mankiewicz told Walter
Wanger, the producer, "Liz and
Burton are not just playing
Antony and Cleopatra."

The two press-agents assigned
to the picture began keeping
elaborate notes, and later made
a book of them.

On New Year's Eve the story
broke wide open to the world.

There were to be so many denials
and counter denials as to exactly
what happened, it is impossible

to sort them all out.

But this is certain: the Burtons

and the Fishers went celebrating
along the Via Véneto. Too much
champagne was drunk by all;
quarrels happened at a small club
called Bricktops - and photo-
graphs were taken by the

hundreds.

Reporters immediately swarmed
into Rome from all over the

world, and they wanted an answer
to just one question.

Guilio Ascarelli, head publicity
man for Twentieth Century-Fox
in Rome, came to Wanger and
said some statement must be given
out to stop the Taylor-Burton

rumors.

Wanger admitted in his own
book about "Cleopatra," which he
wrote in collaboration with Joe
Hyams, that he told Ascarelli,
"There is no romance. Therefore,
there is nothing to deny."

However, Walter sent [

Richard. That was the day that
the blonde chorus girl turned
up on the "Cleopartra" ¡¡et and
took a seat right beside him.

Richard came in smiling, said
"What's up, boss? Am I fiVed'"

Richard said, according to
Wanger, " 'Because of the
rumors. They are just as embar
rassing to me as they are to y0u
I'm a selfish man. I don't want
anything to interfere with my
acting career. I'm happy w¡¿
Sybil, who I know will help mc

in my career.

" 'I'm an independent man
and I can afford to quit this
picture tomorrow - I'll do it
rather than become involved in
something I'm not proud of. I
won't allow anything to hurt my
career or my marriage. And I
won't do anything to harm Liz,
who is a wonderful person.'

"We talked for an hour and a
half," Wanger adds.

"Once again I felt the man's
tremendous charm and sincerity
- the qualities that make him a

star.

"My interview with Burton
ended on a serious note. We
agreed that his quitting the pic-
ture would not solve anything.
The only solution was avoiding
any basis for the rumors. We
parted, Burton saying he was
going to see Liz at her villa."

"I will end

the gossip"

And then Richard, who was
leaving for Paris in a few days
to do some dubbing on "The
Longest Day," said, "I'll put an
end to the gossip."

Sybil had gone to London, as
she had in the past under some-
what similar circumstances gone
to Switzerland or Wales. Eddie
went to Portugal.

Everyone was behaving in a
very worldly manner, except

Elizabeth.

When Wanger went calling on
her, she didn't pretend she didn't
know what he was talking about.
She said, "I feel dreadful-Sybil

is such a wonderful woman."

That was not exactly the answer
Wanger was seeking, but she was
his star. He had a tremendous
investment in the picture. So he
murmured something about swim-
ming against the tides of life.

Elizabeth looked at him sadly.
She said, "Funny you should say

that. Richard calls me 'Ocean,'«

Then she excused herself, say-

ing she was going upstairs to bed.

Commonsense seemed to have
won. Wanger breathed easier.
Until the next morning.

That next morning she w»jl

rushed to the Salvator Mundi
Hospital in Rome with what wai
rumored to be an overdose of
sleeping-pills.

Whereupon, once again, with
one exception, everyone blazed

forth with denials.

Eddie telephoned from Mila"
that he was flying back to bring
his wife home from the hospita''

Sybil, in London, said, "Liz? j

adore her. She's an old friend

of mine."

Richard, in Paris, declared,
"I can only be thankful my wife,
Sybil, laughed the whole thing

off."

If a formal statement had not

been issued to the papers at that
point, all the people concerned,

with that same one exception,
might have got away with

The statement appeared, how-
ever, and it said, quoting

Turn to page 59

The Life and

Loves of

Richard Burton

ç^inued hom page 58

Richard: "For the past several
days uncontrolled rumors have
been growing about Elizabeth
and myself. Statements attributed
to me have been distorted out
of proportion, and a series of
coincidences has lent plausibility
to a situation which has become
damaging to Elizabeth.

"Mr. Fisher, who has business
interests of his own, merely went
out of town to attend to them
for a few days.

"My foster-father, Philip Bur-
ton, has been quite ill in New
York, and my wife, Sybil, flew
there to be with him, since my
schedule does not permit me to
be there. He is very dear to both

of us.

"Elizabeth and I have been
close friends for over 12 years.
I hare known her since she was
a child star and would certainly
never do anything to hurt her
personally or professionally.

"In answer to these rumors, my
normal inclination would be

simply to say, 'No comment,' but
I feel that in this case things
should be explained to protect

Elizabeth."

That statement was printed by
the Press of the entire world, and
the papers bearing it were barely
off the news-stand when Richard
gave out another statement.

He said in his fabulous voice,
"It was all bloody nonsense. It
was a terribly worded statement.
Horrendous. I called Elizabeth
and Eddie and apologised. I never
authorised it. I was very angry."

That sounded great in print.
The only trouble, however, was
that Richard's associate, Chris
Hofer, then insisted that Burton
had authorised the original state-
ment, but added that "pressure
had been brought to bear on Mr.
Burton after it was issued."

Sybil's loving

compliance

There were two elements very
much at war in the situation.
There was the dual nature of
Richard, and the dual life that
he had lived because of it, and
Sybil's loving compliance with
that life.

Opposed to it was Elizabeth's
personal integrity.

She knew that her relationship
with Richard was not mere gossip,
and was not, on her part, only a
flirtation. She knew it was wrong
of her to be in love with him.

Yet, the very proximity to death
she had endured a mere 11 months
before had made her ravenous
for life.

She had fallen in love with
Richard instantly, desperately.
This was the very stuff of life,
and, compared to it, her name,
her career, her future had no
value to her at all.

Then to have Richard turn
on her was nearly unendurable.

After she had absorbed his
"uelty, she said with a humility
new to her, "You must forgive
me and try to understand me.
1 had reached the point of des-
peration. It was one of those
arguments about our situation.

Richard said, 'I don't know

h°w it will finish.' I told him, T
fan t Uve without you.' He said,
« you cannot live without me,

then die.'

"I was struck senseless, not
because of the words themselves
but of the thought that I meant
nothing to him, that he would
always say, 'Then die . . . die
. . . die.' I saw no way out. I
was beside myself."

Every woman who has been in
love with a married man will
know Elizabeth's desperation,
and every married man who has
just had a married woman in
love with him will know
Richard's, too.

For he was falling in love with
her even if he was not admitting
it to himself, and he was damned

if he would ever admit it to
Elizabeth.

Regardless, he meant to get

free of her.

After love's first foolish rap-
ture, there often follows love's
first terrible quarrel.

Their first terrible quarrel had
blazed up because the dominant
male in Richard was infuriated
by Elizabeth using what he con-
sidered typical feminine black-
mail - a tearful plea that he
divorce Sybil and marry her: a

threat that otherwise she would
die.

She outraged him. That was
not playing the game.

She was }ust as much married

as he. Neither of them was inno-
cent. Romance was an enchant-

ment; a stimulus. Marriage was
something else. He had his chil-
dren to think of, and she ought
to be thinking of her children.

So he had blazed forth at her
and thundered away to his villa.

Richard's villa had the incred-
ible name of Beautiful Solitude,
and his temper would have been
calmer if his personal life had
lived up to his dwelling's name.

True, Sybil was away, so were
the children, but the blonde
chorus girl had not gone home

to New York. And now there
were these damned Taylor fire-

works.

To be awakened at dawn in
Paris to hear that Elizabeth was

in the hospital and then to read
in the papers the insinuation
that she had actually attempted
to go through with her suicide

threat had made Richard boil.

That afternoon Liz had been

brought back from the hospital
to her villa by Eddie.

Richard calmed down until

the following morning, when he
reported to the set and saw the
chorus girl sitting coolly by, her
lovely long legs stretched out

before her.

Before he could speak, he
heard the stir about him, which
meant Elizabeth was arriving.
The glances which Elizabeth and
the girl exchanged would have

made the South Pole shiver.

That female confrontation
amused Richard enough to
restore his good nature.

He didn't blame Elizabeth if
the girl's presence annoyed her.

Turn to page 60

JP

The LIFE and

Continued from page 59

The girl's presence now
annoyed him, too, but 'he
was not to be pulled by any
woman, chorus girl or
cinema queen. He was no
Eddie Fisher.

Some wag was circulat-
ing a drawing around the
studio that day, one showing
Eddie as a large hound
outside Liz's door, faithfully
on guard. The day would

never come when Burton
would appear in a drawing
like that.

Nevertheless, he was in a
spot.

"Cleopatra" was only
about one-third finished, and

the scene to be done that
morning was his bath scene.
Naked beauties - female
variety - in the bath, had
been a De Mille specialty -
but Joe Mankiewicz had
brought that technique up to
date by having Antony in

the bath.

To Burton, it was an
idiotic scene. Three hand-
maidens were to wash him
down while he bantered with

them playfully. At the end
of it, he was to be wrapped
in a toga, and strut forth,
very much the masculine god,
at which moment Cleopatra
was to enter and stare at him
appraisingly.

Elizabeth certainly did
stare af him appraisingly as
they did the scene. She was
quite pale under her make-
up, and her eyes glittered

like frost. Her natural

hauteur was very evident as
she looked at him when they
rehearsed the scene.

Then she turned, the
moment they had run
through it, and looked even
more appraisingly at the
chorus girl.

"All right, kidlets, let's
shoot it," Joe Mankiewicz

said.

Silent drama
under surface

Richard slid into the bath.
The handmaidens twittered
and washed him down. The
scene did not demand that

he and Elizabeth exchange
one word, though as she came
into camera range and fixed
her fantastic eyes on him, it
was as though he were in
front of an X-ray machine.

The look she gave him
couldn't have been more
detailed if he had been a
Christian slave before Nero.
Then she exited, and the
lights faded.

Reporters were surround-
ing the gate at the studio
as Richard's car edged out

in the late afternoon.

Was it true he was getting
a divorce? they asked. He
snapped back at them he
certainly was not getting a
divorce, not then, not ever.

That information, natur-
ally, made a morning head-
line for people to chew on

with their breakfast.

Elizabeth had to see him

daily at the studio, and he
knew that with the passing
days the physical pull
between them was getting
stronger, really riding him.

Tentatively, one morning,

he smiled at her. When she
did not rebuff him he slid

into thc chair beside her an^
began talking. 30(1

Words, he knew, were hi,
medium, and flattering ,
beautiful woman carne «
naturally to him as breath
mg. Besides, he actually
enjoyed talking with Eliza
beth-not merely at her but

with her.

Yet he was restrained from
a more intimate relationship
right then, by remembering
what he had once told Moss
Hart about his true self.

He had told Moss, "I
really set out to conquer the
world for my oldest sister,
CB, SO that she would be
proud of me. She is now
Mrs. Elved James, and she
looks years older than her
age because of early malnu-
trition and all the terrible
labor of trying to get money.
T had, I have, an enormous
desire to make up for all
her years of humiliating
poverty."

His conflict was that Sybil
had become completely iden-
tified in his mind with Ck
Cis was identified with a
very simple, Protestant
religion, a quite stern sense
of right and wrong.

What was so damned
upsetting was that Elizabeth,
for all her marriages and
childbearing, had maintained
a kind of innocence in love.
She, too, wanted to be
respectable.

Actually, she had no sense
of proportion at all. She was

like a child.

Before their quarrel, he
had twitted her about her

jewels, such baubles as Mike
Todd's $92,000 diamond ring
for which Mike later had
bought her matching earrings

and a tiara.

One day on the set,
Richard, trying to make up
after their quarrel, began to
tease her about having taken
Alexandre, the Paris hair-
dresser, to Moscow with her.
That, he said in mock
horror, was enough to cause
the downfall of capitalism.

Was it true that she had
permitted Alexandre to whip
out a comb, right in the Red
Square, and tease back one
of her locks that the wind
had blown out of place?

She gave him a half smile

and admkted it was true.

She was thawing out. He

shook his head over her, rue-

fully. Because she was still
a little angry, he was turn-
ing his pet technique

her, talking to her about

herself.

He had never yet encoun-
tered a woman on whom it
didn't work - if you dld 1
slyly enough. For a Pa-
pered beauty such as this,, "e

had to find fault,

admiring fault, to intngu«

her. . ,

He did so. He took in ««
look of her dress. Was ^
right that it was a D»or'
Yes? Did she know the pr"*

of a dress like that couKj
support a whole "eL
family for a year? She a®
know? And she didn't care

They suddenly -~ .
together. He changed

Was she ready for her big

scene coming up m

afternoon, the one wt«
she tore the whole set
ribbons in anger?

He wasn

in the scene, but did s

LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

mind if * .<f"e and

etched her do rt?

Richard found out a bit
later that morning that the
afternoon schedule was
changed, and he and Eliza-
beth were called upon to do
the scene where she tells how
she would feel if Antony were
to leave her.

It was a very ardent love
scene until it came to Cleo-
patra's line, "Love can stab
die heart." Elizabeth looked
deep in Richard's eyes as
she spoke those words.

Her voice, her body, her

person was so filled with con-

viction that in the power of
the moment Richard forgot
his acting and he could not
tell whether it was Elizabeth,
or Cleopatra, who was
speaking.

Mark Antony was supposed
to respond to her appeal, but
Richard Burton, the man,
also responded.

Cleopatra, in thc scene,
began to cry - or was it
Elizabeth who cried? Mark
Antony leaned to kiss her, or
was it Richard Burton who
leaned to kiss her? .

For Richard Burton was
then in another of an actor's
phases, being sure of his own
sincerity, but not knowing
whether it was the performer
or Elizabeth herself who
dominated him so.

Whichever it was, Eliza-
beth, the woman, won. That
night she and Richard played
Antony and Cleopatra off-
screen as well as on. They
forgot their quarrel. They for-
got marriages and divorces.
They were back together
again, and that was all that
mattered.

The next day Elizabeth
did the scene that had been
originally planned for the
previous day, the one where
she discovered Antony had

deserted her.

Monk and Wanger had
been rubbing their hands
with delight up to the
moment they saw Richard
come on the set. They had
believed Elizabeth would be
in exactly the correct mood
to play the scene. With
Richard around, they didn't
know what might happen.

Elizabeth looked like a
young Lady Macbeth as she
came on the stage. She had
no lines to speak. She did
not speak to Richard,
standing on the sidelines.
She simply waited on the

set.

The lights flared rip.' She
was holding a dagger, and
after one wild glance around
*e lavish bedroom she
began slashing all of
Antony's clothes to bits. This
destructiveness seemed to
ignite her wrath.

!n a frenzy she whirled
around and began ripping
everything - the draperies
until they hung in tatters,
TL UNTIL IL hun8 in
nbbons, tearing, screaming
out her rage and disillusion.
As her voice mounted in
wee, she stepped back to
v>ew the havoc she had

created.

It was obvious the dread

«S*" shocked her per

She threw herself
I on the ruined bed and

began to sob.

' wiríUt¿ "ï* Joe Mankie

. yveu do it again."

»e did it again, the same

frenzy, the same agony, the

same sobs.

"Once more, Liz."

She repeated it, the fire,
the suffering, the tears roll-
ing down her face. It was an
impossible scene, and she
was doing it magnificently,
with magnificent control.

"Great, great," said Joe
Mankiewicz, as she com-
pleted this third take.

She lay still on the tat-
tered bed as the whole set
applauded her, the men on
the catwalks, the fellows on
the camera crane, the tech-
nicians on the sidelines.

Richard Burton said, his
voice muted but in a tone he
knew would carry to her, "I
have just seen the greatest
film star, of all time."

She sat up then, and he
was startled as their eyes
met, for her face was dis-
torted with pain.

Like a frightened child,
she held out the hand that
had brandished the dagger.
He noted it hung at a
peculiar angle. In the aban

Vatican newspaper

condemned their
illicit relationship

donment of her acting she
had obviously hurt her hand
badly. Joe Mankiewicz
noticed it at the same time.

"Call Dr. Pennington at
once," he shouted. He moved
toward Elizabeth, but
Richard was ahead of him.

"You great professional,
you," Richard said, and
his voice was a caress.
"You wonderful, wonderful
professional."

Elizabeth was bored with
being told that she was
beautiful, but to hear acco-
lades for her work from such
a praised actor as Richard
Burton, completely captured

her.

She held out her arms to
him. Mankiewicz had a chair

ready. The two men carried
her to her dressing-room.

She could not work for

three days. The X-rays
proved her 'hand was not
broken, but very badly

bruised.

Nevertheless, she came to
the studio daily. Richard's
scenes were not difficult
ones, so they had lots of

free time - time for their
reconciliation.

Now she made no
demands on him. She
ignored the quotes that he
had given out about never
getting a divorce. She
seemed content simply to be

near him.

Louella Parsons, the
queen of the reporters,
claimed that Kurt Frings,
Elizabeth's agent, was in
Rome to work out a
property settlement prior to

a divorce between Eddie
and Elizabeth.

Every news service in the
world went into a tailspin
and demanded their own

quotes on the situation.
Eddie, very distressed, called
Walter Wanger and told him
"to do something."

In London, relatives of
Sybil Burton spoke up for

her.

"Sybil knows all that talk

about Richard and Elizabeth

Taylor is just publicity."

Suddenly, Eddie Fisher
went to New York "for
recording sessions," he saïd,
which was pretty silly. With
his importance, he could
have made his company let

him record in Rome.

In New York, however,
he laughed about "those
ridiculous reports." He
even arranged a conference
with all of Manhattan's top

newsmen. He said he would

get Elizabeth on the phone

and have her tell them all

was fine with their marriage.

He put in a call to Rome.
It was a clear connection.

The only trouble was that

Elizabeth wouldn't come to
the phone.

Right after that, Eddie
entered a New York Hos-

pital. "Nervous breakdown!"
screamed the headlines; "A

rest!" said Milton Black-
stone, his loyal manager.

Only Elizabeth said
nothing.

She was at the studio every
day. The entourage had
ceased arriving with her. She
came in, smiling at everyone,
right on time. So did

Richard.

Never before had she

mingled with a group on any
film. On '"Cleopatra," she
had lunch every day in Bur-
ton's Bar, surrounded by a
mob all laughing, all talking.

Only when the day's work

was over were Richard and
Elizabeth alone.

Sybil waited, as she had
so many times before, over
so many years. She waited
sometimes in Rome, some-
times in London, often in
Switzerland, occasionally in

Paris.

The blonde chorus girl did

not wait. A woman executive

from the "Cleopatra" com-
pany saw the beautiful girl
off at the Rome airport. No
one else seemed to notice
her absence.

Spring came to Rome, a
lovely, lyric spring, and
Easter weekend, the holiest
time of the year in the
Capital of Christendom, drew

near. Richard and Elizabeth

decided to spend it at Porto
Santo Stefano, a lovely

island.

He was a Welsh Protestant,
and she was a Jewish con-
vert, so possibly they didn't
think of the religious signifi-
cance of the date.

The photographers dis-

covered them there and

photographed them with
telephoto lenses, even though
they were doing nothing
more interesting than eating
a bag of oranges, and sitting
on rocks overlooking thc
Tyrrhenian Sea.

Perhaps if Elizabeth hadn't

been observed speeding back
alone to Rome one early
evening, and if She hadn't
had a black eye and a
battered nose, Rome might
not have been so outraged.

On Easter, however, the
Romans apparently didn't

want to be so reminded of
married lovers.

"Basta," said the Roman
papers the next morning,
meaning they had had
enough.

What frightened the studio
nearly out of its box-office

was that a Vatican news-

paper commented on the
pair.

It pointed out that Bur-
ton's and Taylor's actions
were "the caprices of adult
children," and as such were
"an insult to the nobility of
the heart, which millions of
married couples judge to be
a beautiful and holy thing."

That wasn't good publicity
for "Cleopatra," it wasn't
good publicity for Elizabeth,
but so completely does the

world still live on the double

standard, it was to prove to
be very good publicity for
Richard Burton, and also for

Eddie Fisher.

Elizabeth sent word to
Wanger that night that her
face was too bruised to face
the camera on Monday.

But for once, Walter
Wanger had something more
important than Elizabeth's
most precious face to worry
about: Sybil Burton had just

flown into Rome and was

heading for the Villa

Beautiful Solitude.

A week passed. There were
no fireworks, which dis-
appointed quite a few people.

Elizabeth did not return to

work, which disappointed the

studio.

However, anyone con-

nected with the affair was

headline fodder that spring
of 1962, and one day it was
Eddie who won the biggest
type. He was renewing his
career in Las Vegas, Nevada.

On his opening night he
walked on the stage of the
garish Tropicana Hotel to

the tune of "Arriverderci
Roma." He was noticeably

thinner and looked a little

worn, but he grinned boyishly
and said, "I haven't been
here for two years. Since
then nothing much has
happened."

The crowd roared. What a
joke that was - love lost,
respect regained, passion
turned into a puppet show.

Eddie went into his reper-
toire. He began with "No
More Sad Songs For Me,"
and nearly an hour later
ended with, "Don't Let It
Get You Down." The
applause was frantic.

Back in Rome, Elizabeth,
afraid and lonely, stalked
about the Villa Papa, and
was too proud and too good
an actress to show any
emotion.

At their villa, Richard
and Sybil followed the
ground rules they had
observed for 13 years.

During the day, on-screen,
Rich was portraying the
downfall of a great hero. He
was doing it magnificently.

Off-screen, he was show-
ing his marital devotion, and
doing that very, very well,

Turn to page 62

Continued from page 61

The LIFE and LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

too. Sybil, going about with him,
radiated contentment, the wife
mother beaming on the debonair
husband-son, who was also such
an amusing, colorful father.

Sybil came to the studio only
once - and that was for dinner
with Walter Wanger. Presently,
with a casualness that clearly
indicated that she had not a thing
i m the world to worry over, she

once again returned to London
with Kate and Jessica.

Was it Richard's impish sense

of humor that made him arrange

a rendezvous in Paris with his
wife within the next few weeks?

Was it the devious playboy in
him that made him have lunch
with Elizabeth on the very day
he was to fly to Paris?

Was he being deliberately pro-
vocative when he read the Bible
on the plane? When the news-
men asked him, on arrival in
the City of Light, how come he
was reading the Good Book he

said, "I love the Bible as

literature."

When they dared to query,
"Are you going to marry Eliza-
beth Taylor?" he said, with
thunderous dignity, "I am

married."

Richard and Sybil had a
happy, relaxed time for a couple
of days 01. the grand boulevards,
in the wonderful restaurants of
Paris. Then they parted. He
went back to Rome, she to

London.

Seeing the front-page photo-
graphs of them, smiling at one
another, their myriad friends in
the world's great cities, sighed
relieved sighs, and announced
that nothing, and especially no
one, could ever part them.

Therefore, it must have
.considerably confused them
when, on his return to
"Cleopatra," Richard and Eliza-
beth flew south to the beautiful
island of Ischia to make some
of his final scenes.

What's more, Antony and
Cleopatra hired a yacht on

which to lounge between their '
scenes. On the uncovered deck
of the yacht they were alone
together, except for the scores of
small boats, loaded with photo-
graphers, which pulled up on

all sides of them.

Richard and Elizabeth made
unrestrained love on that yacht
deck. The photographs were
printed everywhere, but if Sybil
Burton ever uttered one word of
complaint it never reached print.

Richard was actually saying
farewell to Cleopatra, the real
woman and the character, Eliza
beth still had her death scene to

do.

He was going to Egypt for a
few pick-up shots, but after those
he was finished with Antony. He
was returning home in the fullest
meaning of that word, back to
marriage, back to Switzerland,

back to established virtue.

The siren was vanquished. So
he thought. So his friends and
worshippers thought. So Sybil
thought.

Except that, more than even
he knew, Richard Burton was no
longer the same man that he had
been on New Year's Eve six
months before, when it all began:
the passion, the adventure. He
was restless and confounded. It
had been so easy to forget all
those other women who had been
in his life, but not Elizabeth.

He missed her utter physical
abandonment. He missed her
fiery temper and her fearlessness.
He missed her mad extravagance,
her terrible, beautiful clutter of
diamonds, her discarded hats,
pets, empty wine bottles, children,
spilled perfume, and Dior gowns.

It was mid-July when the last
shot of "Cleopatra" was finished.
Richard heard then, from the
Roman grapevine, that Elizabeth
Taylor was packing to go to her

villa in Switzerland.

She was trucking all her
furnishings, her pets over the
Alps, and Richard laughed aloud
when he got the report that it
was taking one whole van just to
bring her Saint Bernard.

The smaller pets needed two
more vans. The furnishings took
six more. Then four Rolls-Royces
would lead the procession, for
herself, the children, their nannies,
and their toys.

But he did not laugh when he

heard her farewell to Walter
Wanger. "I'm all alone now,
Walter," she had said. "I fed
now as though my heart .is
haemorrhaging."

That shook Richard up. He
did not want to feel tenderly
toward her, but at that moment
he discoverd he did not like the

thought of her being lonely and

suffering.

Thus he was delighted, as he
waited, to get a long-distance
call from Anatole de Grunwald

in London.

He wanted to know i f Richard
would be interested in making
a film for him based on a script

written by their mutual friend

Terence Rattigan.

"It's called 'The VIP's,' Tola
said. "The chief roles are those
of a husband and wife who have
quarrelled and she is leaving
with a lover. The wife's ro'e
would be excellent for M^5
Taylor.

"I am just checking your feel'
ing before approaching the laor

We can shoot the whole film

London and it won't take much
of your time."

Richard said, with fake calm

nMS "If Elizabeth is mter

S, 1 might be abc,"

Then Elizabeth arrived in
Switzeriand. Her chateau was
SI beautiful. Not that
Ridiard noticed that at first.
He saw only her, standing
there, much, much thinner,
much more beautiful

He had thought to discuss
business, and they did -
for all of one moment, Ine
VIP's" would start in Decem-
ber shoot six weeks, their
scenes bunched together to
free them in that time.

They were equally con-
scious of being almost giddy
with delight, seeing one
another again.

This time Elizabeth made
no demands. It was quite the
other way. She said, "I will
gladly give up my career for
you." She said, "I will give
up my money, my name for
you." She said, "I will give
up anything, even my life,
for you, Richard."

A few days later Sybil left
for Geneva and took up resi-
dence, with her children, at

a hotel there.

Early in the autumn.
Twentieth Century-Fox asked
Miss Taylor and Mr. Burton
to come to Paris for dubbing.
That is, to make corrections
on the soundtrack of
"Cleopatra."

They registered in Paris at
the Lancaster Hotel.

One rainy day Elizabeth
slipped on a raincoat and
hat, both of which were lined
with white ermine. Richard
said, "You do wear ideal
foul-weather clothes."

They stepped out into the
downpour. But Burton stood
very still. The day was one
for melancholy, the trees
dripping, the skies dour. He
looked down at the beautiful
woman beside him.

More than a
match for him

"Sometimes I am afraid
of you," he said. He wasn't
yet admitting even to him-
self what it was he feared,
which was that for the first
time in his contrary life he
was losing his heart to a
woman who was more than
a match for him.

Richard's affair with Eliza-

beth had been going on for
almost a year when they
arrived in London by train
from the Continent to start
"The VIP's."

Cameramen and newsmen
were everywhere when the
train pulled in to Victoria

Station.

That day Richard was
Playing Mr. Suave, as he
conveyed the impression that
«je reporters' questions were
au much ado about nothing.

His answers implied that
a" married men arrived in
London with beautiful
married ladies, while their
respective spouses were in

^ other places.

Richard then helped Miss
Kr brough the crowd to
^^Olls-Royce. As her car
Pulled away he got into a

"Rolls-Royce that

Shortly afterward, both
^" pulled up at the
Dorchester Hotel: He went
aUer. shc to
Wstree, richard's dressing

room was side by side with

Elizabeth's.

It was all very cosy, and
that was what frightened

him.

Richard was frightened
because he was being pushed
into a position of choice.
Even among his sophisti-
cated pals, he could not be

husband to two women -

Elizabeth wanted to marry

him.

He had told her several

times this was impossible. He
should have sent her pack-
ing. But he did delight in
being with her.

She was incredibly mixed
up with his ambitions, and
she had made the break-
through for him that he had
not been able to achieve by

himself.

After "Cleopatra," he
would be a major star -?
but she would still be the

greater of the two of them.
After "The VIP's" he was
being offered "Becket." He
had to face it - that
engagement was due to his
publicity rather than to
anyone having seen his Mark
Antony.

Richard did not like being
pulled in two directions. He
knew it was his own indeci-
sion that was causing it, and

that irked him even more.

"The VIP's" began, and it
was a romp, compared to the
seriousness of "Cleopatra."

It was Elizabeth's sugges-
tion that he touch up the
edges of his hair with grey
to make him appear more
distinguished in his role of
her husband, a London
capitalist. She supervised his
hair-cutting, and he saw
that she had been right -
he did look handsomer for
the camera.

The whole cast was fun to
be with - that wonderful

character Margaret Ruther-
ford, playing a duchess; Rod
Taylor, who, it seemed, knew
Elizabeth from Hollywood,
playing an Australian;
Maggie Smith, one of Eng-
land's best young actresses,
portraying Rod's secretary.

It was three weeks before

Sybil and the children
arrived. Syb opened the
Hampstead house, and with
Christmas so close he did
have to make an appearance

at home.

His sense of guilt drove
him so frantic he called up
a jeweller and asked him

around to the Dorchester to

display his wares to Eliza-
beth so she could pick out
her own Christmas present.

He knew damned well

why he was doing it. Guilt.

"That," she said, pointing
to a diamond-and-emerald
pin.

"You're sure?"

She smiled that beautiful
smile.

He turned to the jeweller.

"How much?"

The jeweller was very
casual. "Fifty-five thousand
pounds, sir."

Startled, Richard looked

at Elizabeth. Elizabeth

looked right back at him.
Her eyes were too gentle, and
he knew she had quickly
figured out the fabulous
amount in dollars. She was
testing him. He shook his
head at her in mock agony
and resignation.

none Help

. Elizabeth with Liza, her daughter by her

marriage to the late Mike Todd.

"I do want it," she
murmured.

He had no intention of
losing face in front of any
jeweller. He reached and
took the pin from the
jeweller's case, kissed her
lightly as he gave it to her.
"Merry Christmas, luv."

Her eyes softened as she
pinned it on the high neck

of the soft violet-colored Dior

gown she was wearing. That

touched him. She had
changed her whole style of
dressing since they had
arrived in London, because
one night, coming back from
a party, he had said he did
not like what he called
Technicolor clothes on
women. She had worn, that
night, a green gown, the
neckline of which plunged
to her waist, and he had said
he did not like over-
exposure, either.

She had simply smiled, but
immediately her street clothes
turned out to be startlingly
simple, beautifully tailored
suits. Her evening gowns
were either black or in pastel
shades, and all they revealed
were the lines of her figure.

Suddenly, her style of hair-
dressing changed, too, and
she wore it pulled straight
back from her face, and all
it did to her was make her
look more beautiful.

So now, as she fastened the
priceless pin to her fabul-
ously expensive gown, he felt
his heart throb. Yet her very
gesture stirred the old haunt
in him, that old, "what will
they think of me in the
village?" feeling.

It was that haunting that

made him know he had to

spend Christmas with ? his

wife and his children. He

simply had to.

So he went home. Noth-

ing had changed. Nothing
but him. Syb and his
daughters were adoring,
understanding, uninvolved.

After the kids were packed
off to bed with their nanny
in charge, he took Syb out
to the theatre and supper.
That was just as it always
had been, too. Relaxed,
peaceful, and, therefore,
false.

When he got back to the
Dorchester a few days later,

it was wild-and real. Eliza-

beth was in one of her spit-
fire rages, and the moment

he came into her penthouse
living - room she began
throwing everytihdng at him
that she could put her hands
on. Ashtrays, a lamp, a
chair. He caught them easily
enough, just as he easily sub-
dued her, pinning her arms

down to her sides.

He stood, laughing down
at her, as she sputtered her
rage, and then he roughed
her up a bit, for he knew

she was like a child who

liked to be put in her place.
He put her there.

He had the advantage that
he was not a quick-tempered
man, but he also knew that
she enthralled him by her
seemingly limitless capacity

for emotion.

She submitted that night
to his spending a couple of
days a week with Syb after
that. That way he avoided
making his decision. He was
living the most open double
life, and as the new year
began he tried to tell him-
self he might be able to get
away with it indefinitely.

He was very much the
family man on his evenings
with Syb, spending them
quietly at home with her
and the children, but with
Elizabeth he felt compelled
to go out on the town.

"The VIP's" finished and
Richard went into "Becket."
January went by, then Feb-
ruary. Then an annoying
thing happened.

Louella Parsons got back

into the act and headlined

that "the way is being paved
for Richard Burton to marry
Elizabeth Taylor."

Richard was at the studio
the day that headline hit

the streets. He could hide

out there, fully protected
from inquiring reporters, but
Sybil was at home.

The newsmen reached her,
and Sybil declared, "This is
the most preposterous, ridicu-
lous, false thing I have ever
heard. Richard is mine. He
shall always be mine. I shall
never give up my husband to
Elizabeth Taylor or any

other woman."

But, shortly after, Sybil

went to New York and took
Kate and little Jessica.

To the New York
reporters, Sybil said, "There
are no plans for a divorce.
Richard and I have never
considered or discussed it.

Turn to page 64

Continued from page 63

Yet, we have agreed that a
separation is properly warranted
at this time in view of the highly
irregular pattern that our
marriage has achieved."

Aaron Frosh, her lawyer, inter-
vened then, smoothly. "Mrs. Bur-
ton is going to visit Philip Bur-
ton, Richard Burton'* foster
father, for a few days."

In London, Richard confirmed
there would be no divorce, but he
admitted something he had not

said before.

He said, "I love Elizabeth, but
marriage is out. Liz and I aren't
made for marriage. She has not
had much luck in her love life.

Apart from Mike Todd and
myself, she hasn't known any real

men."

Eddie Fisher said, when ques-
tioned at that time, "I won't
divorce Elizabeth. I will not do
anything like that unless she

wants it. She'll have to ask me.
But I don't think she will. I
expect her back, perhaps not
tomorrow, but soon."

Richard was in a spot. He was
faced by the hardest situation
any human can contemplate: he
had to change his whole point
of view, alter his thinking.

He wanted Elizabeth on his
own terms, as his mistress, not his
wife. She accepted him as her
lover, but she wanted him as her
husband. It was approaching the

moment of truth.

Elizabeth sat on the set of
"Becket" all day long, a mere

devoted onlooker. Sometimes she

brought her children along with

her. More often she came alone.

Richard grew more and more
obsessed by her and he proved it
by being unable to stop talking
about her. Possibly to prove to
himself how brave he was, he
publicly disparaged her rather
than praised her.

"Shape of Welsh

village girl"

Richard announced to the
Press, "Elizabeth isn't particularly
attractive physically. She has the
shape of a Welsh village girl. Her
legs are quite stumpy. Her chest
isn't anything extraordinary."

Maybe Richard expected Eliza-
beth would get angry again.
Instead, she laughed. When
queried, she declared merrily,

"I'm not mad with Richard. I

love Richard. I'm going to marry

Richard."

Loyally, Sybil certainly did her
part. In New York she got the
word that with "The VI P's" and
"Becket" both finished, Richard
was to star in "Night of the
Iguana," which would be made
in Mexico.

Sybil said, "I have every con-

fidence that Richard will come
back to me when he is finished

making 'Night of the Iguana.' I
don't know anything about a

divorce.

"This separation is merely an
arrangement Richard and I have
worked out. There are no papers
to make it official. There is
nothing signed. It's just oral."

That caused one publication to
headline "Liz Crawls Back to
Eddie."

Then things really began to
boil. A few days later, a reporter
who claimed to have encountered
Syb in a New York bar at
2 a.m. quoted her as saying that
she would never give Richard his
freedom, and that "My children
and I have him tied like so much
lend-lease. I'm not going to cut
the leash. And when I get him
back, he will be two million
dollars richer."

Sybil demanded a retraction
and filed a million-dollar suit
against the publication.

One reporter asked her if she
still believed as she had said,
"Richard is mine. I will never
give him up to Liz."

"Completely and irrevocably
so," said Sybil.

So, a month later, Sybil filed
for her divorce. She asked for a
million dollars at that time,
another half-million in the next
ten years.

She refused Richard's request
for the custody of his children for
half of each year, but agreed to
his having them for four weeks

every summer.

Sybil had lost, but she lost
gallantly. She came out of court
and said, "It hurts more than I
can tell you. I never expected it
would come to this, never. I want

it to end quietly. I don't want
acrimony, or calumny, to rear its
head, I couldn't stand it that
way."

Then the criticism did rain

down upon Richard, who replied
through the Press. "Falling in
love isn't any instant thing. It's
an accumulation of detail, a slow
storing up of knowledge about

someone."

He added, "Elizabeth is a hard
drinking, hard-swearing, fearless,
joyous, vivacious, great-hearted
female at the top of her emanci-
pation, and the world well knows

it.

"She is capable of great,
violent, tempestuous hates, of
greater love, and I think she is
bloody marvellous.

The LIFE and

"Sybil and I are working it out.
She has been given a handsome

settlement.

"Liz can be more generous
than I; she can afford it. I don't
know if she is giving Fisher half.
I know they have a business
partnership-I think it has to do
with 'Cleopatra.'

"But I am marrying this
wonderful girl. I will love her
children as my own, and I hope
to see my children as often as
possible. I don't know when we
will be free to marry, but I will
wait for ever. So will Elizabeth.
She wants marriage more than

anything, and I would like a

church wedding to feel more in

bond, united."

This was, of course, in com.
plete contrast to the casualness
with which he had taken his
wedding ceremony with Sybil in a
drab Kensington Register Office.

Yet the following day, after
giving that statement, he reverted
to the sophisticated Richard of
1963 and told the Press he had
been jesting. "I'm still quite a
married man, don't you know."

Elizabeth paid no attention to
such verbal shenanigans.

If he was getting to know her,

i LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

she was getting to know him,
too. "Cleopatra" had come out,
and for the first time in her
career she had received devas-
tatingly bad notices.

One reviewer said she screeched
like a fishwife. Another said she
didn't even know what the role
was about. Many harpooned her
looks, her entire portrayal.
Richard got mostly favorable
reviews; Rex Harrison got raves.

Elizabeth wept. She had been
entirely sincere in her perform-
ance as Cleopatra, and she had
never before been badly criticised
in anything. She collapsed, sob

bing, in Richard's arms and he
did not let her down.

Next day he said to various
friends as he met them, "T'm try-
ing to cheer my girl up. She got
kicked in the teeth by one or
two. It hurts. Of course, I'm
protective about her. She is a
great actress."

It was mid-June of 1963 when
Richard finally determined to
take Elizabeth to meet his Welsh
family. He took her to Averavon,
where his sister, Cis, lived.

Cis had luncheon ready for
them when they pulled up in
Richard's Rolls, in which they

had driven up from London. She

had what once had been his

favorite boyhood meal, scrambled
eggs, lava bread, and scalding

hot tea.

Richard and his girl didn't let
on that his tastes had improved
a bit with age. They wolfed it

down.

Richard had no more than
finished than he was off to the

pub to meet his chums from the
mines. He left Elizabeth with Cis.

But Elizabeth knew what that

meant: she was being inspected,
and a Welshman acted like that,
anyhow ?- independent to prove

his masculinity. Besides, she knew
how to listen, and what woman
in love minds hearing every
single fact about the man she

loves?

The two so very . different
women, one so young and beauti-
ful, the other so plain and care-
worn, talked all afternoon long
about their one glorious subject.

Said Cis, telling all about her
baby brother from infancy till
manhood, "Richard is a kind and
generous man, always thinking
about the family. His happiness,
naturally, comes first in my

mind."

Said Elizabeth, "It comes first
in my mind, too." She sat look-
ing out over the meadow that
surrounded Cis' house, watching

the play of light and shadow.
She saw tlhe ugly abandoned mine
pits scarring the landscape. She
saw Richard's childhood, behind
Cis' words.

She marvelled at how he had
fought his way out of it, learned
so much, been so wise. It was all
so different from her own rich,
easy childhood.

The sun began going down

behind the mountains. Elizabeth
heard about Richard's scholastic
records, his drinking records, how
the genius of the Jenkins family
had always made such wonderful

friends.

The two very different women
smiled at one another.

"I know," said the beautiful
young woman who knew she was
on trial, "it's one of the most
wonderful things about him.
When I was making 'Lassie Come
Home' and 'National Velvet' and
all those other things, I did make
friends, but they were all old
enough to be my parents. In a
kind of a way, they were my
parents, my studio parents.

"I have never known anyone
really well who was my own age.
That's why I'm so grateful to
Richard for introducing me to all
those long-time friends of his."

The one subject they did not
discuss were the women in the
genius' life. But at that particu-
lar moment, there in the house in
Averavon, which Rich had
ordered built and which he'd

happily paid for, the two women
smiled suddenly at one another,
for they heard his car pull up.
They recognised his step coming
along the hall.

"I'm taking my girl out to
meet the village now," he said
to Cis. "I'm taking her pub
crawling, so that she can meet all
the tavern keepers, the miners, the
barmen, and hear vast lies about
me. Will you join us?"

Cis refused. "I know when I'm
not really wanted," she said,
smiling. "But you're to bring her
back, and soon, you hear?"

He heard the warmth in Cis'
voice-which was what he'd been
listening for. So then ihe took
Elizabeth out along the board-
walk where the breezes swept in

from the Bristol Channel.

For dinner, there on the
boardwalk, he bought her a beef
and-kidney pie and a cup of
piping hot tea along with it. The
price was ninepence.

"This is royal treatment for
Welsh women," Richard said.
"And now I shall squander six-
pence and buy you a ride on the

carousel."

She laughed through it all,,
going around on the little
carousel, going in and out of the
small dark pubs, laughing and
talking with the miners looking
at her with grubby, happy faces.

The sun was up long before
they got back to London, but
Richard, with his capacity for
not needing sleep, effortlessly
drove the Rolls at high speed. As
he pulled up at the Dorchester

he smiled down at Elizabeth.

"Happy?" he asked her, as the
doorman opened the car door for

them.

"I wish everybody in the world
could be as happy," she said.

In September, 1963, when
"Night of the Iguana" was about
to begin filming, hundreds of self
appointed prophets pointed out
(mostly in headlines) that doom

was about to descend on the
Burton-Taylor romance.

Obviously, love's time was run-
ning out. It was 21 months since
the great affair began.

Then, Elizabeth had no part in
"Night of the Iguana." She, the
spoiled star, would get restless.

Turn to page 66

The LIFE and LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

Continued from page 65

And there was more. In
the cast of Richard's picture
was that nymphet Sue Lyon,
a leggy blonde, barely
18. She was definitely
Burton's type.

Then there was also Ava
Gardner, a brunette type he
bad often been known to
select - and Ava was known
to have a torrid tempera-

ment.

In the week that the film
was to begin, reporters and
cameramen began swarming
into Puerto Vallarta, long
before Richard and Eliza-
beth, flying in under his
manager's name, Heyman,
got within miles of it. All
the prophets might have
proved right, except for a
few major factors:

The first unexpected factor
was Michael Wilding.

Although Elizabeth had
long since divorced him and
had married two other men,
and now wanted to marry a
third, Michael Wilding had
never wavered in his devo-
tion to her. She was the
mother of his sons.

He had even cheerfully
co-operated to help her get
her divorce from him so she

could marry Mike Todd.

He had 'become Mike
Todd's friend. He had

also flown to Chicago at the
time of Mike's funeral, to be
available if Elizabeth should
need 'him.

At the time of Eddie
Fisher's divorce, when she

had taken her most brutal

criticism, Michael Wilding

had defended her.

Thus, it was distinctly in
character that, having given
up acting to become an
agent (two of his clients
are Elizabeth Taylor and
Richard Burton) for Michael
to fly into Puerto Vallarta
to look after their creature
comforts. A house for their
possible purchase was Casa
Kimberly, and he went first
to inspect it.

He found Casa Kimberly
to be a four-storey Mediter-
ranean-style villa of white
brick and stucco, set in a
lush tropical garden.

So Mr. Wilding went to

work. He went down into

the village and purchased
all the canned goods the
local grocery had in stock.
He bought the best portion
of the stock of a liquor

store. He hired a staff of
servants, and instructed the
maids where to put the con-
tents of the 74 pieces of
luggage he knew Elizabeth
was bringing with her.

Rugged time at
Montreal airport

In the meantime, "Mr.
and Mrs. Heyman," making
their first stop at Montreal,
were having a rugged time.
The crowd in the airport got
completely out of control.
Elizabeth was separated from
Richard by the mob and
cried out fearfully, "Where's
my husband? Where's my

husband?"

Finally, however, the
police restored order. "Mr.
and Mrs. Heyman" got back
on the plane and looked for-
ward with dread to their next
stop at Toronto.

Toronto, however, was
fairly easy. Perhaps that was

Elizabeth's doing. She told
the reporters, "I shall be
Mrs. Burton in three
months." That really was
news. It was also false, but
no one, including Elizabeth,
knew that then. The
reporters sped toward the
telephones, and flashed the

word.

So at Mexico City, the
Press asked Mr. Burton for
further information on the
subject. Richard was cross
and tired by then. He
snapped, 'T didn't say that."

Then they took a private
plane down to Puerto Val
larta. To their delight they
saw that, having arrived a
little ahead of schedule,
there were no reporters or
cameramen around.

Richard lifted small Liza
up into his arms and they
came down the steps from
the plane, smiling into one
another's faces.

A smiling Mexican indi-
cated the limousine waiting
for them and they rode up
to Casa Kimberly.

Michael Wilding stood
there, smiling.

"Welcome," he said. "The
martinis are ready and iced."

"Dear Michael," said
Elizabeth. "Dear, dear
Michael, only you would

think to do all this."

Richard Burton, watching
them, must have known he
was seeing an act of con-
tinuing love such as few men

Sybil's divorce granted,
and her large settlement
from Richard, reportedly,
made Eddie Fisher sing!

ever give and fewer women

ever receive. This manifes-
tation for Elizabeth was
from her former husband
who had never lost his feel-

ing for her.

On September 29, 1963,
when the film began, the
second unexpected factor
appeared. That was the pro-
fessionalism of everyone
involved with "Night of the
Iguana," except Sue Lyon.

Sue Lyon had brought her
fiance to Puerto Valkarta,
and he, Hampton Francher
III, was so continually on
the set that director John
Huston ordered him away.
Hampton, said Huston,

made Mr. Burton nervous.

Leggy Miss Lyon pouted,
"Miss Taylor makes me
nervous being on the set."
But Miss Lyon was not a
star, so that got her

nowhere.

Elizabeth arrived prompdy
at noon each day with a hot
lunch for Richard which she

had ordered prepared at

their casa. If she was a

minute late arriving, Richard
would call out nervously,
"Where's my girl? Where's
my girl?"

Usually Elizabeth brought
small Liza with her, for it
was Liza who couldn't bear
to let Richard out of her

sight. The little girl visibly
adored him, and Richard

returned her love.

Occasi o n a 11 y beautiful
mother and daughter stayed
quietly on the set watching
the action, but more often
they went down to the beach.

Elizabeth had ordered 40
bikinis from Paris, and some
75 sets of slacks, and they
gave drama to her arrival.
Otherwise she was definitely
in the wings, and she was
plainly delighted to be.

For the first time in all her
life, Elizabeth had both soli-
tude and relaxation. Except
for going over to the loca-
tion, there was absolutely
nothing she had to do.

Elizabeth's parents came
down briefly to visit them.

So, too, did her brother
Howard with his wife and
children, but otherwise they
were entirely alone.

Penthouse gave

them privacy

There was a penthouse
suite atop the casa that was
so very private it even had
its own kitchen, and there
Richard and Elizabeth lived
most of the time - happy
alone, ecstatic. Richard
bought the Casa Kimberly
for $60,000, for they came

to see it was ideal for them.

On the set, during the
day, Richard sparked the
entire company. Between
takes he regaled everyone

with his ribald wit.

One day, listening to the
laughter of the whole com-
pany, Elizabeth grinned and
said, "He knows more stories
than Scheherazade."

The doom forecasters had
predicted he'd have a

romance with Ava Gardner.

Instead, Ava was very ner-
vous around Richard at first,
she forgot her lines so often
that Richard tagged them
"The Bickertons" after an
English radio team. At that,
Ava relaxed and they
became friends.

Yes, Richard was slowly
changing. Off-camera, for
him, he did very little drink-
ing. He could still drink the
whole company under the
tatole, of course, but he was
less and less in the mood to
try.

One morning When he was
to play a "drunk" scene, he
reported grinning and red
eyed. He told Huston, "I'm
a method actor, and I pre-
pared for the scene last night
by drinking steadily for five

hours."

But that was simply
Richard's irresistible wish to
wisecrack, and possibly his
sure knowledge that he was
giving his best performance

to date.

But while he was definitely
changing, he still couldn't
stop himself from talking

about Elizabeth as he had

from the first day of their

romance.

He said to John Huston
one day. "Before I met
Elizabeth I was making
$75,000 a picture. Now I'm
making half a million. That
makes you think. If I
retired tomorrow, I'd be for-
gotten in five years, but she
would go on for ever. She is

a legend in her own life,

time."

One night, in a litüe bar
with a newspaperman, Eliza!
beth flared into her quj^
anger over something. The
newsman asked if he should

leave.

Richard laughed. "No, no
Elizabeth is just doing a
little trottin', dancin', and
prancin'." He had come to

understand her.

Elizabeth started to
splutter. "Oh, you, you, yOU
-Welshman," and then
suddenly, there they were
laughing together. He could
control her that easily.

Sybil's divorce was granted
on December 5, 1953, in
Guadalajara, Mexico, on the
grounds that Richard had
abandoned his home and
subjected her to cruel and
inhuman treatment

Richard deposited $1 mil-
lion in a Swiss bank for her
agreed to the half a million
over the next ten years. One
of the local reporters brought
the news to Casa Kimberly
that Eddie Fisher was
reported to have burst into
song at the news.

But when Elizabeth then
talked of filing for her
divorce Eddie began balking.

That made headlines and
some skirmishing - but
it didn't really matter. Rich-
ard said, "Eddie's demands
are in the realm of the fan-
tastic, and quite intolerable."

Eddie retorted, "I hardly
think Mr. Burton is one to
lecture on morals, integrity,
and honesty-to me or any-
one else."

Late in November, "Night
of the Iguana" finished.
Richard and Elizabeth flew
into Hollywood from Mexico.

Elizabeth, of course,
brought some animals along.
Once, with Mike Todd, she
had flown to New York,
holding a duck all the way.
Coming back from Mexico,
she brought two poodles and
an iguana.

The crowd at the airport
to see her and Richard got
completely out of control for
more than 20 minutes, with
microphones every where,
and photographers falling all
over luggage and the air-
port equipment to get shots.

At a Press conference at

their hotel, Richard said:
"First we'll return to Europe
for a short vacation. Then
we will arrive in New York
in January to begin rehear-
sals for 'Hamlet' w;th Sir
John Gielgud. We will open
out of town in Febniary,

then on Broadway for about
ten weeks, if the critics are
kind, then go to Chicago,
Los Angeles, and possibly a

a few other cities."

Subsequently, the lover»
went back to Puerto Vallarta

to spend Christmas there.

The Mexicans noticed how
much more often Richard
talked about "my American
wife." They noticed the quiet
happiness of this husband
and wife, waiting to be wed

Elizabeth filed her divorce

on January 14, 1964, and
Judge Arcadio Estrada i"

Puerto Vallarta ruled that
Eddie's failure to contest
meant that he had "presum-

ably confessed to Elizabeth*
charge that he had aban-

doned her."

To page 67

cjntjn^^ The LIFE and LOVES of RICHARD BURTON

It made her free to marry, and
eave her the custody of Liza
Todd. There was no mention of
the Wilding boys.

Earlier, Elizabeth's lawyers,
one of whom, Aaron Frosch, was
the same one who had been
Richard's and Sybil's lawyer,
said, "At the outset, Mr. Fisher s
sole'demand was that Miss Taylor
recognise his claim to half the
srock of MCL Films, a company
which was a co-producer of and
continues to have an ownership
interest in 'Cleopatra.'

"After receiving authorisation
to accede to this demand, we
were informed that Mr. Fisher
now would only accept the sum
of $750,000, tax free, and the
additional sums of $250,000 for
ten years. Mr. Fisher has not con-
tributed to child support since
the parting, nor has he been

asked to."

Richard said, when asked
about his second wedding date,
"We will wait a few days for the
sake of decorum - what little
decorum is left in this situation."

They waited, however, until
they knew that her divorce was
final on March 8, 1964. The
details of Eddie's payment were
not revealed, but it had cost
Elizabeth plenty, just as Richard's
divorce had cost him plenty, too.

They did not worry, however,
the about-to-be fifth husband of
Elizabeth Taylor and the about
to-be second wife of Richard

Burton.

They had arrived in Toronto
the second day of February,
where "Hamlet" would rehearse
and open prior to its opening on
Broadway.

They were mobbed by adoring
fans, and on the outskirts of the
crowd well-organised dissenters,
mostly women, yelled "Home
wreckers" and other unprintable
names. To 9tay unmolested they
put three guards outside their

hotel rooms.

Elizabeth, when queried about
the women dissenters, said, "I'm
not going to tell the world what
to think about me. If part of the
world has some kind of nasty
opinion, that is only to be
expected. But, to me, being honest
is all part of being what one is.
I don't try to give any illusion or

delusion at all."

Richard was so busy rehearsing
"Hamlet" he barely looked at the
papers. He lost 121b. d uring the
rehearsals. He worked very hard,
he had to - this was his great
dream, and it was approaching
reality. He gave "Hamlet" all of
him: his voice, his training, his

respect.

He opened in Toronto to the
greatest notices he had ever

received, then, on the Sunday of
March 15, he and Elizabeth flew
to Montreal in a chartered
plane.

They arrived at noon and went
immediately to the Ritz Carlton
Hotel, where the Reverend
Leonard Mason of the Unitarian
Church officiated at their
marriage.

Elizabeth wore a hyacinth

yellow dress, the same color as
the .Cleopatra" gown she was
wearing when Burton first saw
her, when he fell in love with
1er at first sight. Pinned at the
neckline of her wedding dress
\vaS llVnly jewel she wore that
oay. the emerald-and-diamond

mas 19h62d ^ ^ f0r Christ"

Their attendants were all
Richards friends, all from the
mañw Bc°mpany> and his ^
was b Wilson' Ws theatre
TfÜÜ?' ,Were due back in
on M°i°r next Performance

we talked and we laughed

and we cried until dawn," Eliza-
beth told the company when they
got back. ''You really shouldn't
do that on your wedding night."
She beamed up at Richard.

Then she added, "Richard has
given me a sense of reality. I am
now - above and beyond any-
thing else - a woman, and that's
infinitely more fascinating than
being an actress. Some women
need to dominate. Others need
to be dominated, and I'm one

of them."

The Burtons became very chic
guests to have at any party.
But Elizabeth had lived through
the same situation when, after

being snubbed at the time of her
marriage to Eddie Fisher, she
became very socially acceptable
after her triumph in "Suddenly,

Last Summer."

In consequence, they accepted
few dates. Besides, Richard had
his old, established friends in
New York. They had not
changed toward him or he toward

them.

With that business brain of his,
now that the artist had been

satisfied by his triumph as
Hamlet, Richard began figur-
ing out how he could make it
pay off financially. He had orig-
inally thought of making a road

tour, but he was too content and

too smart.

Instead he and Alexander

Cohen, his producer, entered into
negotiations to film his produc-
tion of "Hamlet" right on the
stage as he and his company
performed it.

Then in June of 1964, Richard
came full circle, the long way
from Pontrhydyfen to the pin-
nacle of the acting world. This

was when Richard and Elizabeth
Burton, wed three months, did a
poetry reading at the Lunt

Fontanne Theatre for the benefit
of the American Musical and

Dramatic Academy.

Richard Burton had won all
down the line. It had taken him
nearly 40 years to grow up, but
grow up at last he had.

He had risen to the height of
his profession on the artistic
level. He had risen to the heights
of wealth, too. And he had
learned the meaning of love.

Elizabeth did not quite get all

she wanted. She wanted not to

be billed as Elizabeth Taylor,
but the producers wouldn't agree
to that. "I don't think of myself
that way anymore," she said.
"Being Elizabeth Burton is a
full-time occupation."

"Being Elizabeth Burton's hus-
band takes quite some doing,
too," said Richard.

(Copyright)

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