Mrs. Astor Regrets

by Meryl Gordon

  Once his mother died, Tony Marshall had envisioned a future for himself and Charlene as philanthropists. The Marshall name would matter—they too would be the toast of the town, courted by the powerful as his mother had been. But those dreams were now ashes. Even if Tony eventually won his full share of his mother's estate in Surrogate's Court and the right to dispense Vincent Astor's largesse, the money would be forever tainted. And Tony Marshall could easily be in his nineties before the contentious fight over the estate was settled.

  Brooke Astor had rescued her son many times, snaring him ambassadorships, employing him to managing her money, urging her charitable boards to take him on as a charitable act. But she could not save him from his cupidity now. Even the prosecutors had expected that Tony would try to negotiate a plea bargain to avoid a trial, yet the Marine who hit the beaches at Iwo Jima never asked for mercy. He was stubbornly committed to proving that he was innocent before society as well as the law. The prosecutors, the tabloids, and all of these interlopers would never understand how much his mother loved him and wanted to reward him for a lifetime of loyalty. "He did not do one thing wrong," Charlene insisted to me. "He did zero wrong. We believe in truth with a capital T."

  Tony did not testify in his own defense. Yet his tangled feelings toward his mother did come to light at the trial. This emotionally repressed son had poured his heart out in a letter he wrote—but never sent—to Terry Christensen in February 2004, explaining to the lawyer why he was being fired. The letter was introduced as evidence.

  "Mother's feelings towards me over the past nine months have been a treasured reward at the near end of a relationship fractured by the influence of others and by her own very focused life," Tony wrote. "We have never been so close as we are at present. As she nears her 102nd birthday, every time I have seen her, she has expressed to me her love and gratitude." Anthony Dryden Marshall, born Anthony Kuser, the only child of New York's white-gloved philanthropist Brooke Astor, had waited a lifetime for those words.

  The trial of Tony Marshall and Francis Morrissey lasted much longer than any of the participants had anticipated. Sweaters were replaced by T-shirts, boots by flip-flops. The jurors, who had agreed in April to serve for three months, found themselves in August still spending their days in room 1536 with no end in sight. Every day was costly for Tony Marshall; Charlene termed an estimate of $6 million in legal fees "very low." After fifteen weeks of testimony, the prosecutors had not yet finished presenting their case; then the defense would have its turn. Justice Bartley, apologizing to the jurors for the wildly off-target time estimate, took the unusual step of giving them a late-summer two-week vacation, with the trial resuming after Labor Day.

  So at this writing, the trial continues. Whatever verdict the jury brings in, Tony Marshall's court battles over his reputation and his inheritance are far from over. As soon as the criminal trial is completed, the legal proceedings over Brooke Astor's final will and codicils (suspended when Tony was indicted in 2007) are scheduled to resume in Westchester Surrogate's Court.

  Brooke Astor loved the limelight, even employing a public relations firm to keep her name in the news. This vivacious and much-admired grande dame wanted to be remembered for her good works. Stories about her son's trial appeared in newspapers around the globe, from New Zealand to Wales. Now her name has been tarnished. The fight that tore apart her family is something that Mrs. Astor would indeed regret.

  Epilogue: A Sunset in Maine

  FIVE DAYS. How much difference can five days make in the life of a family? So many layers of experience mount up, and the cracks are replastered and new touch-up paint is applied, but the architecture of the relationships remains the same. Still, every now and then there is a moment, a glimpse of what might have been and what still could be. Forget the artifice of redecorating—what if the support beams were demolished and replaced by sturdy new construction? During five magical days in Maine, Brooke Astor, at ninety-eight, knew that something special was occurring. A beatific smile played constantly over her expressive features.

  Family visits chez Astor usually occurred en masse, with four generations offering homage at the table. But in the summer of 2000, Tony and Charlene Marshall scheduled their visit to Brooke in mid-July, stayed for three weeks, and departed on August 6. So when Philip Marshall and Nan Starr drove up to Cove End on August 21 with Winslow, nine, and Sophie, seven, in the back seat, they anticipated a rare experience—they would have Brooke all to themselves.

  When Tony and Charlene were with them, family tensions inevitably surfaced. "We were freer to be ourselves than when other family members were there," says Nan. "Being relaxed and happy came more naturally." Brooke, to be sure, was adept at stoking intergenerational rivalries in the family. She turned things into a competition about who loved her the most; it was as if she couldn't help herself. Years earlier at Holly Hill, Brooke had offered Philip an old side table from the attic; after he carried it downstairs, Tony spied it and promptly claimed the prize for himself. Brooke let it pass, although she must have noticed the struggle between father and son.

  Cove End is full of nooks for children to explore. Once the Marshall family had unpacked—a major production, since Brooke required re-sort wear during the day and jackets and dresses for dinner—at the spacious two-story guest cottage by the water, they made their way along a wooded path to the main house, where Brooke waited. Winslow stopped by the Chinese gong and banged it with delight, an exuberant way of emphasizing "We're here!"

  Brooke was eager to tell them about the plans she had made. It would be a busy few days, but there would still be time for lolling around. Her staff would take care of anything they needed. Chris Ely was there—he was always there—and Sophie and Winslow greeted him warmly. They associated him with fun, since Easter Sunday at Holly Hill was one of the butler's fortes, and he decorated the house with stuffed Peter Rabbit dolls and toys just for them.

  That first night at Cove End, Brooke was in storytelling mode, happily regaling her grandson and great-grandchildren with stories of her globe-trotting girlhood. "She had all these trinkets in the house, and they'd end up being props for stories," recalls Philip. "She'd pick something up—' Here's a box with a little splinter of bloodstained wood from Nelson's mortal wound at the Battle of Trafalgar.'" When it was time to move into the dining room for dinner, Winslow offered his arm to his great-grandmother. She could not believe it—such perfect manners for a nine-year-old boy. That was Nan's doing; she worked hard to raise well-behaved children. As Sophie recalls, "Every time we went to see Gagi, we had to be on our best behavior. We had to sit up straight and not start eating until she started and put our napkins in our lap." Winslow adds, "And not drink the water out of the finger bowls."

  While having breakfast in bed the next morning, Brooke spoke fondly about Sophie and Winslow to her housekeeper, Alicia Johnson. "She loved the little girl," recalls Johnson. "Mrs. Astor said, 'She danced for me.' She thought Philip's son was such a little gentleman—he had a tie on at dinner. She was proud of Philip."

  Brooke had chartered a boat that day to explore the waters off Mount Desert Island in search of seals. The family posed for a photograph on the waterfront. In a white straw hat, pearls, a green blouse, white pants, and a stylish white coat, Brooke is beaming in the center of the picture. On the left, Philip, balding and tall, wearing a windbreaker, a polo shirt, and shorts, is grinning, his arms around his shyly smiling daughter. On the right, Nan, short-haired and athletic, looks affectionately at the camera, resting her hands on Winslow's shoulders. On the boat, Philip sat close to Brooke, whispering in her ear as they bounded over the deep blue water with the mountains in the background.

  At Cove End the next day, Annette de la Renta arrived by private plane from the Dominican Republic, just for lunch, in an extravagant gesture of affection. "I'd never met any of them," says Annette. "Brooke didn't talk so much about them." Here she was, Brooke's closest friend, and yet Brooke's grandson and his family were strangers.
Brooke was the queen of New York, the world's most famous philanthropist, a best-dressed icon, and her family had never come first. But now she was Gagi, an affectionate matriarch trying on a new role extremely late in life. "I saw her having a great time. Her great-grandchildren were all dressed up and performing for her," Annette recalls. "It was nice to see Brooke that way."

  Brooke wanted to share her family with yet another close friend, so David Rockefeller came over for lunch the next day. The group got into a lively discussion about the upcoming presidential election. As Nan recalls, "Brooke and I were trying to convince David to vote Democratic." Brooke, once a GOP stalwart, was annoyed that George and Barbara Bush, unlike previous presidents, had not included her at state dinners, although they were social acquaintances. "She was a little offended," says Rockefeller. "She felt that the Bushes had not paid a lot of attention to her."

  Gagi was not lacking for attention during this visit. Sophie and Winslow tried to entertain her with their athletic talent. "She was impressed when I was doing back flips into the pool," Sophie recalls. "I did gymnastics in her yard, cartwheels—she liked that."

  At the end of the five days, Brooke had an impulsive inspiration: she decided to give Philip and Nan the cottage by the water. She loved them; they loved Maine; it would make her happy to imagine Sophie and Winslow cavorting for decades to come. Of course, if she had given this gesture much thought, she would have known that Tony would be irked. But the property was hers, and she was already leaving Tony so much—Park Avenue and Holly Hill and the main house at Cove End. What could a single cottage matter?

  What stayed with Nan was Philip's happiness. "It was really, really important to Philip for the kids to have a connection to their great-grandmother, and not for any reason but sentiment," she says. "He wanted some normalcy. He romanticizes those days, but it meant so much to him."

  Brooke said her goodbyes and the family drove away. The blue sky and ocean water, Brooke's riotous garden of pinks and purples, Sophie in a blue dress at the swim club, Winslow in a yellow life jacket—all now photos for the scrapbook. Five days in the life of a family is so little time, but sometimes the memories, and their repercussions, can last forever.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  NOTES

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Acknowledgments

  MANY PEOPLE helped make this book possible, but at the top of the list is my agent, Gail Hochman, who stirred up a bidding war in August, no less, and has been tremendously supportive and involved at every stage of this process.

  To the more than 230 people who agreed to be interviewed for this book, I send all of you my sincere thanks for your time and your trust. A handful of people were very helpful on a background basis: you know who you are, and I am immensely grateful.

  As I wandered around in Columbo fashion with just one more question, a number of people showed endless patience. My thanks go to Philip Marshall, Annette and Oscar de la Renta, Daniel Billy, Jr., Susan Robbins, Alec Marshall, Elizabeth Wheaton-Smith, Nan Starr, Paul Gilbert, Sam Peabody, Linda Gillies, Fraser Seitel, Vartan Gregorian, Ashton Hawkins, Minnette Christie, Pearline Noble, Suzanne Kuser, Emily Harding, Ira Salzman, Harvey Corn, Barbara Thompson, Liz Smith, Alicia Johnson, Ivan Obolensky, Alice Victor, Louis Auchincloss, Marilyn Berger, Randy Bourscheidt, John Dobkin, Barbara Goldsmith, Steve Hamor, John Hart, Naomi Packard-Koot, Mary Lou Scott, Patricia Roberts, Viscount William Astor, and Alice Perdue.

  Frances Kiernan, the author of The Last Mrs. Astor, has been generous with research help and advice. As for my journalistic colleagues on the Astor beat, I have benefited from their reporting and guidance, with special thanks to Stefanie Cohen, Neil Weinberg, Serge Kovaleski, Dareh Gregorian, Helen Peterson, Barbara Ross, Alison Lynn, Melissa Grace, Laura Italiano, John Eligon, Ralph Gardner, Jr., and Samuel Maull.

  I have been blessed with wonderfully supportive friends. I am grateful to Jane Hartley, Ralph Schlosstein, Mary Macy, Michelle and Stephen Stoneburn, Suzanna Andrews, Christine Doudna, Rick Grand-Jean, Tom Curley, Patricia Bauer, Ed Muller, Gail Gregg, Tamar Lewin, Swoosie Kurtz, Jim Wetzler, Rita Jacobs, Jenny Allen, Jules Feiffer, Charles Tolk, Ron Silver, Elaine and Tino Kamarck, Louise Grunwald, Mandy Grunwald, Matt Cooper, Benjamin Cooper, Rachel Gotbaum, Betsy and Victor Gotbaum, Josh Gotbaum, Joyce Thornhill, Susan Chira, Michael Shapiro, Judy Miller, Jason Epstein, Susan Birkenhead, Jere Couture, Julie Glass, Joanna Coles, Joe Klein, Victoria Kaunitz, Stone and Betsey Roberts, Gale Epstein, Paula Sweet, Toni Goodale, Elizabeth Rohatyn, Maralee Schwartz, Jonathan Alter, Emily Lazar, Garrett Epps, Gwen Feder, Caroline Miller, Eric Himmel, Lindi Oberon, Jodie-Beth Galos, Jane Stanton Hitchcock, Nancy Leonard, and Urban Lehner.

  My husband, Walter Shapiro, has been terrific during this exhilarating and exhausting marathon. Champion editor of boring sentences, comforting presence at 3 A.M., ever-vigilant and curious journalist, stand-up comedian who keeps me laughing, closest friend after thirty years together—I am so lucky that we found each other.

  My parents, David and Adelle Gordon, have cheered me on all through life and read every draft of this book. My father is a marvelous descriptive writer; my mother, a social worker, has a talent for drawing people out. I'm grateful for their love and the skills they have sought to pass on.

  My nephews, Jesse Gordon and Nate Gordon, are the lights of my life, and it has been a pleasure to welcome to our family Meghan Wolf and Victoria Clark. A special thanks is due to Nate, the baseball photo editor at Sports Illustrated, for his professional help in coordinating the photos for this book. My two sisters-in-law, Sarah Cooper-Ellis and Amy Shapiro, have been consistently warm and wise and fun. My brother, Bart Gordon, taught me how to read without speaking the words out loud, and remains always in my thoughts. I miss him every day.

  This book evolved from a story I wrote for New York magazine, and I remain grateful to Bruce Wasserstein and the editors—Adam Moss, John Homans, Jon Gluck, Hugo Lindgren, Lauren Kern, and Emily Nussbaum—for this assignment and many others. Wendy Wasserstein, Bruce's sister, repeatedly urged me to put aside magazine stories to do my own work, saying, "Seize the means of production." Her friendship and encouragement meant a great deal.

  At Houghton Mifflin, Jane Rosenman, the acquiring editor of this book, was a dream to work with, and I regret that she was unable to see the book through for reasons beyond our control. George Hodgman, who took over the editing of the manuscript, came up with a terrific title and offered many smart insights. Lois Wasoff turned the legal vetting into a surprisingly pleasant experience. Liz Duvall provided thorough manuscript editing.

  I am grateful for the support and enthusiasm of Rebecca Saletan, the publisher of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Andrea Schulz, the editor in chief, Lori Glazer, executive director of publicity, Bridget Marmion, senior vice president of marketing, Becky Saikia-Wilson, executive director of editorial operations, publicity manager Alia Hanna Habib, and Sasheem Silkiss-Hero. Julia Dahl, who provided research assistance, and Bob Hammond, who fact-checked the book, made invaluable contributions, but any mistakes in the manuscript are mine.

  Notes

  This book evolved from a story I wrote for New York magazine in August 2006. I began the research that led to that story a year earlier, in September 2005, before the legal fight began. Although I had contacts in Mrs. Astor's world from previous magazine assignments, I did not come to this subject with any special arrangements or access, just an intense desire to understand what happened to this family.

  Ultimately, I was able to speak to every major figure involved in this controversy. I interviewed more than 230 people, including Mrs. Astor's family members, close friends, and former staffers. Many were initially reluctant to grant full cooperation. Only after ten months of phone calls did Philip Marshall agree to meet me in person and describe in detail the events that led him to sue his father. In her role as Mrs. Astor's guardian, Annette de la Renta refused all press requests for a year, but six months after Mrs. Astor's death, she spoke with me at length. D
avid Rockefeller and Henry Kissinger also discussed the lawsuit and their friendship with Mrs. Astor in conversations at their respective offices.

  Tony and Charlene Marshall, who met with me at their home in 2005 for my story in New York, declined to schedule a formal interview for this book but were nonetheless accessible. Tony granted me a half-hour phone interview in June 2007, and during a break in the surrogate's court proceedings in Westchester in October 2007, the Marshalls sat and spoke to me for nearly an hour. Whenever I went up to them at events and asked questions, they took the time to answer. They graciously provided family photographs for the book.

  The majority of my interviews were taped. When taping was not possible, for various reasons (such as the ban on tape recorders at courthouses or requests by individuals that I not record them), I relied on my notes. Most conversations were on the record, but a few people would agree to speak only on a background basis. During two years of reporting, I did multiple interviews with many sources.

  In researching this book, I read numerous newspaper clippings and books, especially Brooke Astor's two autobiographies, Patchwork Child (1962) and Footprints (1980), and Frances Kiernan's invaluable The Last Mrs. Astor (2007). I relied on, and derived insights from, several types of documents not available to the general public: