Soon the money he had borrowed on the insurance policy ran out and Hilton was right back where he had started from, trying desperately to save his empire. Every day was an uphill climb. It wore him down. “Don’t you dare give up,” his mother, Mary, told him. “Some men jump out windows, some quit, some go to church. Some pray. Pray, Connie. Harder.”
Meanwhile, as things continued to go from bad to worse, Conrad’s wife became more and more restless. By this time, Mary had slimmed down and had adopted a more glamorous appearance, her hair now blonde and stylishly coiffed. She was worlds more sophisticated than the eighteen-year-old girl in the red hat who had first caught Conrad’s eye. With the passing of just four years, she had become a striking woman, and she longed to be appreciated for it. Certainly, preparing Conrad’s favorite meals and ironing his suits for business meetings were tasks that had lost their charm for Mary Hilton. Moreover, she now claimed that Conrad was distant and inattentive. She was right. For some reason, Conrad couldn’t seem to connect to her on a deep, emotional level. While he was perfectly pleasant and respectful toward her, it was as if a wall existed between them. The truth, though, was that he was content with the relationship as it was, and addressing its limitations was not a priority for him. He felt that he and Mary shared enough happy moments to keep the marriage going, and for him the union had evolved into an amicable family partnership designed as a vehicle for the raising of children. He was comfortable with Mary, more at ease with her than he had ever been with any other woman.
Conrad first noticed that something was troubling Mary when he opened the El Paso hotel in November 1930. It had been a grand opening night, his sister Rosemary and her husband having traveled from New York for the occasion, as had his sister Eva from Boston. His mother was also present. That Conrad was able to open a hotel during such tough times was nothing short of a miracle, and would not have happened if not for some creative financing. So there was reason to celebrate. Everyone seemed to be having a well-deserved good time; everyone, that is, but Mary. She appeared to be bored with the festivities and uninterested in knowing the people who worked with and for Conrad.
Judging from Mary’s dissatisfied demeanor that evening, she seemed to have had her fill of the hotel business. At one point, she gathered her wrap and left the banquet room in a hurry, heading to their upstairs suite. It was then that Conrad’s sister Rosemary approached Conrad and asked him if he thought that Mary was possibly bored with the hotel business. Actually, the idea had never even crossed his mind. Still, Rosemary cautioned Conrad to make sure Mary did not feel neglected, especially given her youth.
Though Conrad took his sister’s comments under advisement, he really didn’t know what to make of them. He felt he was giving Mary enough of his time, said he was even buying her dresses from stores during his travels just to show that he was thinking of her in his absence. He gave her different kinds of gifts, he said. His sister told him that it was likely Mary didn’t care much about the presents he was offering her, and would much rather have her husband at her side than on the road, traveling, or at the office.
Making matters even more complex, though Conrad had just opened a new hotel, he couldn’t afford his own home. It was probably bad planning, but in his defense he was doing the best he could under challenging circumstances. Therefore, he moved his family from their plush digs in Highland Park to a suite in the new El Paso Hilton. His mother, Mary, and his sister Helen—who had recently left her husband—were now living there as well, ordering a single sixty-cent meal and splitting it in two. (Mary didn’t complain about it either, saying that in her view people ate too much anyway.) His wife, Mary, wasn’t happy about any of it, though, stuck with two young boys—Conrad Jr. and Barron—in a hotel while her husband was at work. If he had the money to afford to buy this hotel, she couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t have the money to put a roof over their heads. Moreover, how in the world had he been able to send his mother on that world cruise? None of it made sense to her, and as far as she was concerned, it suggested that Conrad was more devoted to the solvency of his hotel empire and the well-being of his mother than he was to her and to the security of their family. After they moved into the hotel, she made her views clear to Conrad; she was angry at him and worn down by the daily grind and struggle. “Like the Depression itself, what happened to Mary and me didn’t come all at once,” he would recall. “Little by little, the laughter went out of Mary’s eyes.”
“Many years later, Eric told me that because his father was gone all the time working, his mother was left feeling miserable and alone,” said Patricia Skipworth Hilton, Eric’s first wife. “It was an unfortunate situation that just kept getting worse.”
Somehow, it seemed inevitable that infidelity might creep into the marriage. It was at a local charity event that Mary met the handsome Mack Saxon, a famous Texas football coach and onetime University of Texas team captain and all-conference quarterback. Tall, strapping, and good-looking, with dark wavy hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a winning smile, he must have been difficult to resist. Because nothing had changed in her marriage, Mary was drawn to Saxon. He listened to her problems, was present for meals, and even seemed to take an interest in her young sons. But perhaps more important to her, he appreciated her as a woman. “She knew it was wrong, she knew it would be devastating to Conrad if he were to find out about it,” recalled one relative of Mary’s. “However, she justified the relationship with Mack by telling herself that she was tired of being neglected, that she deserved more than what she was getting as Conrad’s wife. So, yes, she strayed,” confirmed the source. “She wasn’t proud of it. But she did it.”
“Mary would come to El Paso with Mack, and everybody knew something was going on between them, though we didn’t know what,” said Ken Heinemann, a player on Saxon’s team. “Mack was a good-looking guy, attractive to women, who also had a little reputation as a drinker; we all knew that he caroused. Anyone who saw him with Mary knew it was trouble.”
“Conrad and Mary tried to keep things going,” recalled Stanley Tucker, whose father knew Conrad at that time. “Connie wasn’t a quitter. He tried, and in all fairness to her, so did Mary. Then, much to everyone’s amazement, Mary ended up pregnant in October 1932.”
Nine months later, little Eric was born. However, in Conrad Hilton’s diary he seems oddly indifferent toward the event. “Mary expecting a baby,” he noted simply, conspicuously leaving himself out of the picture. He is just as unsentimental in his entry of July 1, 1933: “Eric Michael Hilton born at St. Paul’s at ten a.m.”* Then, immediately thereafter: “Must get something solid to show Greenwood. I know I can straighten that hotel out if I can only get a chance.” Then, on September 5: “No time to stop off and see Mary or the baby. Called everyone I could think of as a substitute banker. My time’s running out.”
Though the idea of a divorce was anathema to the tenets of his beloved Catholic Church, Conrad Hilton had to wonder if he had any choice in the matter, considering the state of his marriage. While he wondered which course of action to take, Mary had already made up her mind: She no longer wanted to be with Conrad, she wanted to be with Mack. That said, Conrad actually seemed able to adjust to the new status quo. After he got used to the idea, he did what he had done when the attraction between him and Mary diminished: He adapted and made the best of the situation. He threw himself into his work. It actually wasn’t so bad. At least now he could just focus on being a good businessman, at long last free of the guilt he’d felt about not being a good husband. The children seemed to like Mack Saxon, but they also knew who their real father was, so Conrad was satisfied with that as well. In a way most people might not have been able to fathom, the situation actually started to make some sense to Conrad. After all, he was accustomed to making the best of challenging situations. It was how he ran his business. Mary, however, had had enough. She announced that if Conrad didn’t file for divorce, she would have to do it.
“Now, that was going a litt
le too far,” said Stanley Tucker. “His pride wouldn’t have allowed it. Therefore, if they were to move forward with their lives, it would, unfortunately, have to be up to him. So Conrad filed for divorce.” For his marriage to end in divorce proved a torturous proposition for a man who, by his own admission, started every single day on his knees in church. He would make no mention of the possibility of Mary’s indiscretion anywhere in his memoir, choosing instead to keep his and her dignity intact, perhaps if for no other reason than for the sake of the three children who bore the Hilton name.
The divorce decree was granted on June 11, 1934—eleven months after Eric was born—thereby ending Connie and Mary’s nine-year marriage. Mary waived her right to appear at the divorce hearing, being represented only by counsel. It was ruled that Conrad, who was present at the hearing, would have custody of all three children—Nicky was about to turn eight; Barron was seven—an arrangement that was considered quite unorthodox for the times. Judge Royall B. Watkins ruled that Conrad was “able and capable of caring for and educating the minor children and he is a proper person to have the care, maintenance, and control of said children.” Mary would have only practical visitation rights, based on “all reasonable times and places that may be agreeable to Conrad Hilton.”
The financial settlement with Mary Hilton seems paltry, even by 1930s standards. While she received household goods and furniture, the actual home in which she and Conrad had lived was granted to Conrad. Though he was worth well over a million dollars even if most of it wasn’t liquid at the time, he would give his ex-wife alimony in the total amount of thirty-six hundred dollars, in payments of three hundred dollars per month.
It would seem, at least from all available evidence, that Mary didn’t feel she had much choice but to accept the stringent terms of her divorce and subsequent child custody agreement. Of Conrad’s first marriage, his second wife, Zsa Zsa Gabor, would, in years to come, testify under oath, “Mr. Hilton described his separation and divorce from his first wife, Mary Barron, as quite bitter and unpleasant. He stated that she had not done right by him, but he had used the lawyers and the courts to get what he wanted in the divorce. He stated, in substance, that if anyone crossed him, he knew how to get even.” She also said that Conrad “bragged about his power and control with courts and stated that he could use them to obtain what he wanted or make them do what he wanted.” Of course, as we will come to learn, Zsa Zsa, herself, would have her own tumultuous relationship with Conrad; her words should be judged accordingly.
Mary Hilton and Mack Saxon were married a year after her divorce from Conrad Hilton, on June 1, 1935 in Fort Worth, Texas. It was at that time that Conrad made the somewhat perplexing decision to surrender Eric to the couple. Conrad told relatives he felt it not fair to the child, who was two at the time, to try to raise him on his own, especially given his work schedule.
Considering that he obviously had the money to be able to afford plenty of help, some observers were confused by Conrad’s decision to turn Eric over to Mary and Mack. But whereas he would in years to come have suspicions about the paternity of a daughter born to Zsa Zsa, there’s no legal work, such as any codicils to his many wills, or other indication that would suggest that Conrad ever had similar questions about Eric. Whatever the reasons for his decisions where Eric was concerned, one thing is certain: At least during his early years, Eric Hilton lived separately from his father and siblings.
For his part, Conrad Hilton was never quite the same after the divorce from Mary. Going forward, he would always find it difficult to commit to and trust any woman. From most accounts, his relationships with women from this time onward would always be somewhat muted. He would lose interest quickly rather than take the time to develop a true emotional attachment. He would end it with her before she had a chance to end it with him. He did date on occasion, but nothing ever came of it. One of his relatives recalled of Conrad, “He was a proud man whose ego had been crushed by the dissolution of his marriage. Whatever it is that makes a man give his all to a woman—I mean, really and truly surrender everything to her and trust her with his heart—that was no longer there for Conrad.”
He wanted that to change, though. He recognized the distinct void, and he wanted to fill it. Indeed, when the fascinating creature that was Zsa Zsa Gabor waltzed into his humdrum life, he felt something stir in him for the first time in many years, a kind excitement and anticipation that felt good, so good that he wanted to go with it, bask in it, explore it. It had been a long time since he was so interested in any woman. He didn’t know what it meant. He just knew he didn’t want to let it go.
PART THREE
Zsa Zsa
Conrad’s Inner Turmoil
In April 1942, after telling Zsa Zsa Gabor that they could not marry because of his religious convictions, Conrad Hilton spent the next three days sequestered in his palatial Bel-Air estate. He didn’t want to see anyone, nor did he wish to talk to anyone on the telephone. He canceled all of his business appointments. As far as he was concerned, business could wait, which was rare. Confused, unhappy, and depressed, once he realized that he couldn’t have Zsa Zsa as his wife, he wanted her more than ever. In a way, it made sense, considering his character and personality. If someone were to have told him that he couldn’t purchase a luxury hotel in which he was emotionally invested, he would become all the more determined to make that property his own. It was just the way he trafficked in the world. Maybe he was spoiled, maybe he had a sense of entitlement, or maybe he was just a determined person. People thought a lot of things about him, none of which were opinions that mattered much to him. He had always lived his life on his own terms. However, he was now being prevented from doing just that, and by his own beloved religion. At an emotional crossroads, Conrad did what he usually did in times of great despair—he got down on his knees in his bedroom and he prayed.
Throughout his lifetime, Conrad had often stated that his “secret weapon” in business was his close spiritual relationship to his God. He had made each of his major hotel purchases only after a great deal of prayerful deliberation. He fervently believed he would be guided in the right direction if he simply asked for such guidance. “It’s not enough to just pray,” he once observed. “You have to be able to listen. Call it intuition or call it gut instinct. Call it what you will, but I recognize that little voice we all have in our heads as being the answer to our prayers. You have to be willing to listen, and then make decisions based on what that voice is telling you. A major problem, as I see it anyway,” he continued, “is that many of us have not worked to cultivate that certain inner voice. We make snap decisions. We don’t pray. Many of us don’t even think. We just react to situations at hand. I have found that this isn’t the way.”
“A man knows his prayers have been answered if when he gets up off his knees he feels refreshed,” Conrad liked to say. After praying about the dilemma regarding Zsa Zsa, he did find that he felt much better. His inner voice told him to follow his heart, that he deserved to be happy and that a way would somehow be made for him and Zsa Zsa to be together. “I’m going to marry Georgia and trust that God will find a way,” he finally decided. His mind was made up; he wanted to be with her, and nothing—not even his religion—would stop him.
Had Conrad talked himself into believing he would be happy with Zsa Zsa, even if he were ostracized from the church that was so important to him? If so, was this a measure of just how powerful his feelings were for her? Or was it really just indicative of how powerful his feelings were about wanting that which he had been denied? Only he would know which—if either—of these scenarios was true. As often happens when a man is swept away by passion, he would have to admit in years to come that he really wasn’t thinking straight. He was only sure of one thing: He wanted to pick up with Zsa Zsa Gabor where he had left off with her. “Georgia, I can’t live without you,” he said when he called her to tell her he had changed his mind. “Sanks God,” she exclaimed. “I can’t live without you either, Conn
ie.” And with those words, they were a couple once again.
At the end of March 1942, while the two were at the Mocambo nightclub in Hollywood with Zsa Zsa’s sister Eva and a friend of theirs from Budapest, Andrew “Bundy” Solt, Conrad presented Zsa Zsa with two small jewelry boxes, a diamond ring in each. She was stunned and delighted. “I still wanted to sprinkle stars in a lovely lady’s lap,” he would later explain in his memoir, Be My Guest, of Zsa Zsa and of this “incurably romantic” time in his life, “and I must confess I had never met anyone so willing or qualified to receive them.”
In one box, Zsa Zsa found a large gleaming diamond, the kind that would impress even the most seasoned collector of fine jewelry. It was breathtaking. In the other there was a smaller, much more conservative-looking diamond ring, not exactly eye-popping, but respectable just the same. As Zsa Zsa would later recall it, she wanted the larger diamond ring—of course! However, she knew that there were people in Conrad’s life who were certain that she was only after him for his money. She and Eva exchanged quick, anxious looks. Of course, she knew which ring Eva would pick. But Zsa Zsa decided to take the opportunity to prove to Conrad that she wasn’t materialistic, and she sensed that her selection in this moment might suggest as much to his friends as well. The truth, though, was that Conrad wasn’t exactly generous with his money when it came to her anyway. True, he bought her a few trinkets now and then, but he never went hog wild when it came to spending money on her. “I think, though, that this will change when I marry him,” she told Eva. “Surely a man like that loves to spend money! And I love to spend money. So, we should be a match. Don’t you think?” Eva wasn’t so sure. “Zsa Zsa,” she said, “a man most wants to impress a woman when he is courting her. If he isn’t spending money on you when he hopes to impress you, when will he ever?”
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