Sharon Tate and the Manson Murders

by Greg King

  Alone in Hollywood, Sharon soon met and befriended another of Harold Gefsky’s clients, actress Sheilah Wells, who was under contract to Universal Studios. “Both Sharon and Sheilah were living on their own at the time,” Gefsky recalls, “and both were paying separate rents when neither one had much money. I introduced them to each other and, after they became friendly, suggested that, for financial reasons, they move in together.”34 Sharon, accompanied by her white poodle, Love, duly moved in with her new friend at the latter’s small apartment.35

  For Sharon, life settled into a quiet routine. In the weeks she worked on The Beverly Hillbillies, she was up early, off to the studio by seven in the morning, and rarely returned home before six at night. Hers was not the life of a typical Hollywood starlet: Sharon far preferred quiet evenings at home, curled up on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and comfortable shirt, watching television, reading or playing with her dog, to the fashionable nightclubs and parties sought out by many. On weekends, she visited her parents and sisters, or joined friends to ski at Lake Arrowhead.

  Sharon was good-natured about her lack of success; her optimism astonished many of her friends, but she never seemed bitter. “I’m sure the three years I spent in training to be an actress will pay off,” she confidently declared.36 She seemed to take immense joy in the simple aspects of her life: cooking, shopping, visiting friends or walking on the beach at nearby Santa Monica. While she had never been an intellectual, Sharon took great pains to fill in the gaps in her education through reading. Her continued quest for self-improvement, development and reaching her goals became increasingly obvious to those around her.

  In 1964, Sharon had her first motion picture screen test. Director Sam Peckinpah had signed on with Ransohoff to do a new film about a group of professional gamblers meeting for a big game in New Orleans. One of the roles called for a young, beautiful female to serve as the love interest in a series of romantic interludes. Titled The Cincinnati Kid, the film had already cast Steve McQueen, Ann-Margret and Edward G. Robinson. Ransohoff discussed the possibility of casting Sharon with Peckinpah, and the director agreed to test her. Sharon tested for Peckinpah with McQueen; but, after viewing the test, Peckinpah argued with Ransohoff against casting Sharon Tate—still an unknown quality in Hollywood—in the film, especially in such a high profile role. He felt that her timidity and lack of experience would show on film. In the end, Peckinpah won, and Ransohoff agreed to cast Tuesday Weld.

  In August, 1964, while Ransohoff was producing The Sandpiper with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton at Big Sur, he arranged a photo shoot for Sharon along a secluded stretch of sandy beach. The shoot went over-schedule, night fell and, with it, a heavy fog rolled in from the Pacific. Driving back to Los Angeles, Sharon had an automobile accident. Her new Triumph sports car flew off the winding road, rolling four times before coming to a stop at the bottom of a hillside. Miraculously, she escaped unharmed, with only two small scars near her left eye to remind her of the wreck.37 The Triumph, though, was totaled. Sharon’s first thought, or so she later told an interviewer, was that Ransohoff would be angry with her over the incident, and she was beside herself with worry over how best to break the news to him.38

  The accident again triggered Sharon’s doubts. While she tried to accept the slow course her career seemed to be taking, she found Ransohoff’s caution frustrating. The lack of success, and relationship with Forquet had severely battered her self-confidence. Although she joked to friends about “sexy little me,” Sharon remained unfulfilled and impatient.39 It was at this point, when she was at her most vulnerable, that, on Thanksgiving Day, 1964, Sharon first met Jay Sebring.

  Chapter 4

  Jay

  Like Sharon, Jay Sebring, had come to Hollywood in search fame. Twenty-nine years old, with dark brown hair and eyes, Sebring was attractive and stylish. With Jay, image was everything. He was born Thomas John Kummer on 10 October, 1933, fourth child and second son of accountant Bernard Kummer and his wife, Margarette. Throughout his early life in Detroit, Michigan, Jay suffered from personal insecurity, both about his middle-class background and about his height: at five-feet six inches tall, he constantly felt overshadowed by others. To compensate for his short stature, he indulged in a flashy and extravagant lifestyle: driving expensive, trendy cars; attending important parties; and moving in elite Hollywood circles. The move did not sit well with his parents, and they virtually cut off all communication after his success in California.

  By profession, Jay was a hairstylist, a trade he had learnt during a four-year stint in the United States Navy during the Korean War. Coming to Los Angeles, he had quickly made a name for himself by procuring a position at a top salon and attracting an impressive list of clients. By the early 1960s, the success of Vidal Sassoon had revolutionized the profession, lending a glamour and prestige previously unknown, and Jay took advantage of the dozens of men and women eager for his services. He changed his surname from Kummer to Sebring, in an effort to both distance himself from his middle-class background and to surround himself with the glamorous associations of the exciting Florida car race of the same name. “Jay,” says friend Skip Ward, “had the good fortune of arriving in Hollywood at exactly the right time. Young actors in that day thought nothing of spending fifty or a hundred dollars on a haircut. These guys realized that they were in a town where they lived and made their money by their look, and Jay was smart enough to cultivate the inherent narcisism.”1

  His big break came when actor Kirk Douglas asked Jay to develop a distinctive haircut for the actors appearing as slaves in his new film Spartacus.2 Sebring’s work attracted further attention; soon, with the investments of several of his regular and wealthy clients, he managed to open his own salon, Sebring International, and most of the Hollywood set followed him. He counted not only Kirk Douglas but also Warren Beatty, Steve McQueen, Paul Newman and George Peppard as regular customers, and studios contacted him frequently to do hair for their films. His was not a beauty-parlor world of middle-class housewives, but a sophisticated shop filled with modern chrome and lavish mirrors, and peopled with enviably-dressed employees who epitomized current trends.

  In October, 1960, Jay had married a model named Cami. The union soon fell apart, however, and, in August of 1963, they had separated. Free of the constraints of marriage, Sebring threw himself headlong into the glittering world of Hollywood. In time, Sebring became something of a celebrity himself, and the character of George in the 1975 motion picture Shampoo was based largely on Sebring and starred one of his former clients, Warren Beatty, in the main role.

  For all of his preoccupation with the perfect Hollywood image, Jay was thoughtful, intelligent and confident—all qualities which appealed greatly to Sharon. “Jay was a real sweetheart,” recalls friend Michelle Phillips, “funny, very adorable, and very gentle.”3 And Kirk Douglas remembered: “Jay was a charismatic, tiny little fellow. Good-looking. Well built. Quite a ladies’ man.”4 He was the epitome of the fashionable sixties male: a man who cared about his appearance and clothes, enjoyed fine food and wine, moved in the right circles, and enjoyed life to the fullest.

  “I met Jay when I went in to his salon on Fairfax to get my hair cut,” recalls Skip Ward. “I was a young actor, had a hot Mustang, and Jay was fascinated by the car. He loved that car. We hit it off at once, and began to hang out, talking about cars and girls. Eventually Jay bought a Cobra, which he used to race all over town. He was a truly great driver, but there was always a sort of reckless energy that seemed to propel him, both behind the wheel and in his life. Jay was a great guy, you knew he was your friend, but at the same time, there was a hint of mysticism about him, a darker side that you could never quite put your finger on.”5

  “Jay was a hell of a nice guy,” recalls his neighbor Ib Zacko. “He had a big white German Shepherd which ran up and down the road, playing with my dog, and Jay used to end up chasing it all over. I did a lot of cabinetry at the time in a shop in my garage, and he would pop in to say
hello and watch me at work. He said he was all thumbs, and wished he had the patience to work with his hands, which was quite funny, given that he was a hair stylist.”6

  Sharon first met Sebring on Thanksgiving evening, 1964, at a party given by Elmer Valentine, owner of the famous Whiskey A-Go-Go on Sunset Strip, and later The Roxy. They began to dine out in Hollywood’s most exclusive restaurants, ending their evenings in smoke-filled jazz clubs over martinis. His confidence inspired Sharon. “I need a strong, secure man … someone who leads, but doesn’t dominate,” she admitted in an interview. “And at the same time, he’s got to be sensitive and adventurous—someone who likes to do different things all the time. A man is sexiest to me when he’s vital and creative; what he looks like in the mirror is strictly secondary.”7

  Sebring made a favorable impression on Sharon’s parents. He was thoughtful, well-spoken, educated and handsome. His career, while perhaps a bit unconventional, had resulted in financial rewards. To Doris Tate, he was charming and sociable, even teaching her how he cut hair; Sharon’s father respected his business sense and military past. “He treated Sharon very well,” remembered Doris Tate. “He was gentle, but I know that Sharon also appreciated his ability to take charge.”8

  Sharon began spending most of her free time at Jay’s new home. Just north of Hollywood and Bel Air, above the Los Angeles basin, Benedict Canyon stretches through the hills, providing a rustic, rural setting just minutes away from the city. Sebring had discovered a house here which suited him perfectly. Hidden on a steep hillside near the end of a cul-de-sac just off Benedict Canyon Road, the mock-Tudor mansion at 9860 Easton Drive had once belonged to actress Jean Harlow and her husband, MGM producer Paul Bern. The picturesque house was rich with reminders of Hollywood history, including gutters whose tops were capped with carved wooden replicas of the heads of Rudolph Valentino, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. and Mary Pickford.9

  The house also had a dark history. Here, in Harlow’s bedroom, on Labor Day, 1932, Bern had committed suicide just two months after their marriage.10 Another guest at the house committed suicide, and a third man apparently drown in the swimming pool. Several years later, a maid working for the new owners is said to have hung herself in the house.11 According to his friends, it was this tragic past which first attracted Sebring to the house.12

  The house, not surprisingly, was popularly believed to be haunted. Sharon certainly thought so. One night in 1965, she was staying at the Easton Drive house alone. She later explained that she had felt something was wrong, and left the lights on in the bedroom while she tried to sleep; she awoke to see the figure of “a creepy little man” in shadow standing by the bed; terrified, she ran screaming out of the room and down the main staircase, only to find another horrible vision, this one of a body with its throat slashed and tied to the newel post at the foot of the stairs. When she blinked her eyes, the image was gone. Unnerved, Sharon made herself a drink, wondering if she had imagined the entire episode. But, next morning, she felt certain that she had actually seen the ghost of Paul Bern.13

  Like his house, Jay Sebring, too, had a darker side. At the time of his meeting with Sharon, he had begun to experiment heavily with drugs. According to his friends, Jay regularly used marijuana, amphetamines, cocaine, mescaline and LSD. Under his influence, Sharon gradually was introduced to these drugs as well. “It opened the world to me,” Sharon later said. “I was like a very tight knot, too embarrassed to dance, to speak even.”14 Both she and Jay moved in Hollywood circles where drugs were common. Doors opened for them up and down the canyons above Hollywood, as Jay quickly became known as a contact for many of the rich and famous who bought drugs.

  Sebring’s other, peculiar passion, was sado-masochism. He liked to tie up women with a silk cord and then whip them with a small sash, often taking photographs. However, he was never violent, and any such activity was always consensual. Yet it is again revealing that Sharon continued to stay with Jay in spite of his drug use and sexual peculiarities. She would later comment to Roman Polanski that Jay approached these encounters in a gentle, “rather disarming way.” Although she went along with his requests, she found Jay’s fetish “funny, but sad.”15

  Although Sharon seems to have craved affection, and fell into relationships with men of doubtful character, she was not, according to Hollywood gossip—which is notorious about keeping track of such things—promiscuous. More than anything else, Sharon was the product of the changing age. She came of age at a time when the advent of the birth control pill made sex an option for women outside of marriage, without fear of unwanted pregnancy. Her attitude toward sex reflected her time in Italy and the newly-found feminine freedom, as well as the changing morals of the day. Even so, Sharon scarcely fit the definition of a modern, liberated woman: she took her relationships seriously, with an intensity which spoke of her need for acceptance and search for security.

  This modest attitude impressed many of those who Sharon encountered. Because of its close proximity to the Hollywood studios, Sharon regularly had potential scripts delivered to Jay’s house. One day, a production assistant happened to arrive when no one was at home, and instead left an envelope for Sharon with Paula Zacko, one of Jay’s neighbors on Easton Drive. A few hours later, Sharon arrived, in the midst of a rainstorm, to pick up the script. She accepted Zacko’s invitation for a cup of coffee, but refused to remove her long raincoat, which was drenched. After some prodding, Sharon finally opened the coat to reveal that she had on nothing but a silk teddy. She explained that she was on her way to a photo shoot, and the clothes she was to wear had not been ready. Before the shoot, she had met a producer and worn the only thing she had in the house, but kept her raincoat firmly buttoned. Any other ambitious starlet might have been tempted to let the coat slip open during her interview with the producer, but Sharon was too cautious to engage in such questionable behavior.16

  Sharon was soon absorbed into Jay’s charmed circle, and became close to Steve McQueen and his wife Neile. “Jay admired Steve’s recklessness,” says Skip Ward. “There was a rebellion in him that I think Jay wished he could emulate. They both loved fast cars, and spent a lot of time talking about racing.”17

  Sharon and Jay regularly joined the McQueens for dinner at their Brentwood mansion, a rambling stone house dubbed The Castle, perched on a bluff high above Hollywood. “I found Sharon to be nice and totally guileless,” recalled Neile McQueen Toffel. “She seemed willing to do anything Jay asked her to. I don’t think Marty Ransohoff approved of their relationship or of Jay’s influence on Sharon, whom Marty seemed to be grooming into a Marilyn Monroe-like star. But I doubt he ever said anything to her. The one and only time I tried LSD took place at our house one night with Jay and Sharon, and of course Steve.”18

  In March, 1965, Jay was finally divorced from his wife Cami. The decree marked a turning point in the relationship between Sharon and Jay. Suddenly, he became more intense and serious, and began to talk about marriage. “Jay made no secret of the fact that he was really in love with her,” remembers friend Skip Ward. “I think he would have been perfectly happy to settle down with her and have lots of kids.”19

  While Sharon later admitted that she had been in love with Jay, she was both too uncertain of her own future and too focused on her career to make such a commitment. Sharon was only twenty-two, poised on the verge of exciting possibilities; while the security marriage brought with it was certainly appealing, she was less enamored with the idea of settling down and abandoning whatever experiences life still held.

  Jay spirited Sharon off to Hawaii with Steve and Neile McQueen for a week-long vacation, in an attempt to win her over to his point of view. They returned to Los Angeles still devoted to each other, but no closer to a serious commitment that they had been before. Sharon cared deeply about Jay, but she thought that she was still too young to marry. She made one concession to Jay: as a promise to him, she gave him her high school class ring, which he continued to wear until his death.

  He
r relationship with Jay helped occupy much of Sharon’s time, but she was still anxious about her career. She constantly besieged Ransohoff’s offices with letters and telephone calls, begging for any work. In late 1964, Sy Weintraub asked Ransohoff to loan Sharon to star in his new production Tarzan and the Valley of Gold, starring former Los Angeles Rams linebacker Mike Henry. It was hardly the kind of role which Ransohoff envisioned, and he advised Sharon that he had turned down the request.

  She was stunned. Both Jay and Steve McQueen pressured her to change agents. Her contract with Filmways, Inc. was unfortunately unavoidable. With some reluctance, Sharon agreed. In the middle of 1965, she signed with McQueen’s agent, Stan Kamen, of the famous William Morris Talent Agency on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles.20

  “Stan called one day,” Hal Gefsky recalls, “and said that both McQueen and Sebring had managed to convince Sharon to change agents. They wanted her to be a big wheel, like everyone else, and they fixed it up for Stan to meet her. But Sharon was loyal, and told him that she would only switch if I approved and was involved in the process.”21

  Together, Gefsky and Kamen worked out what surely must have been one of the oddest of Hollywood contracts. Sharon was adamant that Gefsky should continue to benefit from her career; Kamen would pay Gefsky ten percent of Sharon’s income, while he himself also took a regular commission. The deal meant that Sharon was, in effect, paying double agents’ commissions to two different men, one of whom was no longer actively representing her. But she refused to abandon Gefsky. “It was one of the most selfless and loyal things anyone’s ever done for me in this business,” Gefsky recalls.22

  In February of 1965, Ransohoff agreed to loan Sharon to NBC-TV for a small supporting role in an episode of their series The Man From U.N.C.L.E., an espionage spoof starring Robert Vaughn and David McCallum. In “The Girls of Nazarone Affair,” Sharon portrayed a member of an evil group led by Lucia Nazarone, determined to steal a serum which restored life to the dead. Clad in black leather, she joined the other girls in acrobatic displays during carefully-staged fight scenes.23