Debbie Reynolds Stories

Elizabeth invited me to a dinner party at her house on Beverly Estates Drive, which is a winding road above Beverly Hills. The house had been designed by architect George MacLean and had an indoor swimming pool.

After dinner, Elizabeth and Montgomery Clift went for a swim. They laughed and giggled while making out in the water in front of us all. They were having a great time. Even though Monty had boyfriends as well as girlfriends, it was obvious that he and Elizabeth had been intimate. Elizabeth could seduce any man, gay or straight.

She and Monty were great pals and very dear friends. After I left the party, there was a horrible accident. Monty’s car crashed into a utility pole as he drove down the winding road outside Elizabeth and Michael’s home. His face was smashed through the windshield. Everyone at the house heard the crash.

Monty was never the same after that accident. His handsome face remained disfigured in spite of plastic surgery. Elizabeth always stood by him. When she loved you, she was a steadfast friend.

One night sometime later Elizabeth went to visit Evelyn Keyes and her lover, Mike Todd. Evelyn was best known for playing the role of Scarlett O’Hara’s sister Suellen in Gone with the Wind. She believed that she and Mike would get married someday. But destiny had other plans. Mike left Evelyn immediately for Elizabeth, breaking Evelyn’s heart.

Mike and Elizabeth were a great match. They both were strong and very passionate and had no compunctions about showing it. Eddie Fisher was Mike Todd’s best friend, so we spent a lot of time with the Todds. When Elizabeth and Mike got married in Acapulco on March 8, 1957, Eddie was Mike’s best man, and I was Elizabeth’s matron of honor.

Their wedding was comparatively modest. In addition to Eddie and me it was attended by Elizabeth’s mother and Cantinflas, a leading Mexican actor who costarred in Mike’s hit film Around the World in 80 Days.

The night before the ser­vice I washed Elizabeth’s hair for her. Elizabeth had gotten pregnant by Mike while she was still married to Wilding. To settle her divorce quickly, she sold a very expensive painting and gave the proceeds and all her savings to Wilding

One night Elizabeth and Mike came for dinner at Eddie’s and my house on Conway Drive in Beverly Hills. At some point, Elizabeth said something to Mike that caused him to haul off and hit her, knocking her to the floor. They got into a big argument and began screaming at each other. This upset me terribly. I went after Mike, jumping on his back and pummeling him so he would stop fighting with Elizabeth.

Suddenly everyone turned on me. Eddie accused me of being naive. Mike told me that Elizabeth could “take it.” I honestly thought he was hurting her, but Elizabeth told me to stop being a Girl Scout. How did this turn into something I did wrong?

I didn’t know that this was foreplay for Mike and Elizabeth.

At the time Eddie was my first and only lover, and needless to say, we didn’t carry on like that. Elizabeth liked it rough. Maybe that was caused by her relationship with Nicky Hilton, or maybe that’s just how she’d learned to make love.

Other girls at MGM liked rough sex. Lana Turner often came to the makeup room with bruises or a black eye. Sometimes they would have to reshoot things after she’d been knocked around

Frank Sinatra was strong with women. It really was “my way” with him. Ava Gardner told me that they often hit each other when they were married, but I had never witnessed it. Ava shot Frank once, and lucky for Frank, her aim was lousy. She only hit him in the leg

My lack of experience in this department made it difficult for me to please Eddie. He wasn’t a very good teacher, even though he’d been around a lot before we were married. Carrie was only an infant when things became strained between America’s Sweethearts. Eddie was spending a lot of time away from home. He was clearly unhappy. I wasn’t happy either. I sensed that our marriage was in trouble and that pretty soon I’d be alone with our new baby.

More than anything, I wanted another baby so that Carrie could have someone to grow up with and share her life, as I’d had with my brother, Bill. The problem was, Eddie and I hardly ever had sex after Carrie was born. There were plenty of other men I could have had sex with, but I wasn’t that kind of girl—and besides, I wanted my kids to have the same father.

Time was running out and I had to do something. I was on a mission to get pregnant.

It was May 1957. Eddie and I were visiting Elizabeth and Mike in Italy, where Mike was promoting Around the World in 80 Days. Elizabeth was pregnant with their first child, and their happiness was contagious. Eddie was in a great mood. We all stayed in a charming villa. At dinner one night I saw my chance. Opportunity was knocking, and I planned to get knocked up.

Elizabeth and Mike were up to their usual antics. She was on the second floor of the villa, yelling over the balcony to Mike to come upstairs. He yelled back in his normal profane way. When Mike finally climbed the stairs to satisfy Elizabeth, he did the job well.

We could hear their raised voices as their fight continued, followed by the equally loud sounds of their lovemaking. I decided to make a move of my own.

I ordered Eddie a beer, and he drank it, even though he preferred the highs provided by his friendly physician, whom I called Dr. Needles. Then I asked the server for another beer for my sperm bank—uh, husband. Eddie being a nondrinker, it was enough to put him in the mood.

After dinner Eddie and I went up to bed. Sure that I was fertile, I was excited about getting my hands on Eddie. I soon got Eddie excited too, even though he was half asleep. I was swift, and so was Eddie.

When the deed was done, I used the beautiful headboard on our bed to prop up my legs all night, determined to keep every molecule of baby ingredients inside me until the last possible moment. I stayed that way until I left for the airport the next morning.

Eddie remained in Italy while I flew home with my friend Jeannette, who’d accompanied us on the trip. When Eddie returned to LA, he was distant once more. He was stunned when he found out he was going to be a father again, but he became a good husband as we waited for our new baby. Nine months later, Carrie had a brother and my wish came true. Two beers, in and out—I got Todd. Todd Emmanuel Fisher, named after Mike Todd

Early one morning in March I was at my dressing table combing my hair when my housekeeper knocked on the bedroom door. Eddie, who was then a major singing star with many hits, was working out of town.

“Did you hear what happened?” Mary asked. “Mr. Mike Todd was killed in a plane crash. I just heard it on the radio.”

My heart sank. No one was as full of life as Mike Todd, and now he was gone. What a tragedy for Elizabeth. I left immediately to go to her.

When I arrived, there were reporters and police everywhere. Michael Wilding and a doctor had been called. I sat quietly downstairs, where I could hear the police giving Elizabeth the horrible news upstairs. Elizabeth screamed.

She appeared at the top of the stairs, wailing, “No! No! It’s not true! It’s not true!” It broke my heart. The doctor tried to calm her, but she was hysterical.

Elizabeth’s babies shouldn’t be around all this commotion, I thought. Our house was set up for kids. Carrie entertained her friends on a toy carousel that I’d installed in the living room. The addition of three more children wouldn’t faze us. So I packed up Elizabeth’s three- and five-year-old sons, little baby Lisa, and two nurses for the short trip back to our house.

Michael Wilding came too. He spent his time sitting at the bar in the living room, drinking everything we had in the house. Eddie and I weren’t drinkers then, so I had to keep calling the liquor store to deliver more bottles of whiskey.

Eddie flew back to Los Angeles and went to Elizabeth with my blessing. The four of us were so close, I was sure he could comfort her. Eddie would come home every few days to get clean clothes, and then return to Elizabeth.

Michael Wilding spent the next two weeks on our couch, still upset about his divorce from Elizabeth. I got the feeling that he thought he might be able to reconcile with her now that she was a widow. He loved her completely.

Elizabeth had that effect on people. It didn’t bother him that she had been unfaithful to him with Mike Todd. To love Elizabeth was to love her forever.

Elizabeth was sick

After two weeks, I asked Wilding to go home. He wasn’t much trouble, but I felt we all needed to get back to normal. Shortly after that, Elizabeth was able to take her children home, and then she took a trip to New York.

Eddie decided to follow her. The rest, as they say, is history.

Even though Eddie and Elizabeth and I shared headlines for a year, I knew that their marriage wouldn’t last. Eddie wasn’t her type. He wasn’t strong enough to keep up with Elizabeth.

She was so devastated by Mike Todd’s death that she looked for comfort in a convenient person who also was Mike’s best friend. That connection made her grab on to Eddie in an attempt to get over the loss of her true love.

When Elizabeth met Richard Burton while they were on location in Italy filming Cleopatra, it was Eddie’s turn to be left behind. At that point, Eddie was drinking heavily. He went into a rage when he discovered that all the gossip he heard about Elizabeth and Burton was true. Maybe that was because Elizabeth had found someone as charming, intelligent, and fiery as she was.

Elizabeth, Eddie, and I were a love triangle that became one of the biggest scandals of its day. In my heart, I hoped that Eddie would come home to his children once Elizabeth got tired of him. As much as I had loved him, I hated the way he abandoned Carrie and Todd.

Several years after all of our divorces and remarriages, I was in New York City with my second husband, Harry Karl, about to sail to Europe for a vacation. As the bellboy took our few suitcases through the lobby, I saw a dozen bellmen taking care of countless trunks, suitcases, birdcages, and animal carriers—all matching and all headed for limousines in front of the hotel. I asked someone what group they belonged to and was told, “The Burtons.” They were crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Elizabeth.

I told myself this couldn’t be happening. Harry and I were booked on the same ship. There would be no way to avoid the press.

There were six first-class suites on the top deck of the luxury liner. Elizabeth and Richard had booked five of them; Harry and I were in the one remaining suite.

We both decided to contact the other at the same moment, each of us sending notes to the other’s cabin. Elizabeth and Richard came to our suite for cocktails.

Once Elizabeth and I saw each other, we were back to being girlfriends again. I don’t think we even mentioned Eddie Fisher more than in passing.

We drank champagne and had a lovely time. Richard Burton was a delight. We all decided to go down to the dining room for dinner, which caused quite a sensation. Photographers hiding behind potted plants were waiting to grab a shot of us. It was a wonderful reunion that led to many fun evenings together.

this is all great and I have Debbie's signed memoir, which I treasure; it's a great book, but OP, don't post much more; publishing is dying because a lot of people think that they can get the whole thing on line for free.

In 1967 Elizabeth and Richard were my guests at the annual ball given by the Thalians,.......

This particular year it was Peter Ustinov, who was making a film called The Comedians with Elizabeth and Richard. After the ceremony, everyone came back to the Karl house on Greenway to finish off the evening. Elizabeth and Richard got into a fight, carrying on as if they were doing a scene from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? By now I knew what this meant.

“Just drag her off to one of the bedrooms, Richard,” I yelled at them. “And don’t wake the kids!”

Elizabeth and I had shared so many happy times since then, and it was good to be working on Carrie’s movie together. One day Elizabeth asked to see me. There was a scene in the script about her character stealing my character’s husband while in an alcoholic blackout.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you with Eddie,” she said.

Elizabeth sounded very emotional. It seemed clear to me that she’d been thinking about what she wanted to say.

“That was another lifetime,” I assured her. “You and I made up years ago.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I just feel so awful when I think of how I hurt you and your children.”

We spoke often, sometimes spending time together.

One night I went to her house to watch a movie with her and took along a pumpkin pie for us to eat. The movie was The Last Samurai, starring Tom Cruise. It features a lot of sword fights, which really didn’t interest us. We sat in Elizabeth’s bed, eating pie and chatting, while Elizabeth’s nurse sat quietly beside us.

During our visit, a man dropped by with a diamond tennis bracelet for Elizabeth, asking to see her as he handed the trinket to her friend and assistant, Tim Mendelson. When Tim brought the bracelet to the bedroom and conveyed the message, Elizabeth instructed him to tell the man to come back another time.

“I don’t really like him much,” she explained to me as she put on the bracelet.

“You may have to add a diamond or two to that, so it fits better,” I said.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’ll just wear it early in the day, when I’m not so swollen.”

Elizabeth had jewels for every occasion—and every stage of water retention.

The last time I spoke to Elizabeth, she was close to death.

“Getting old is really shitty,” I said. Elizabeth laughed that wonderful full laugh “It certainly is, Debbie. This is really tough.”

I told her to be strong and just hang in there. Elizabeth liked kidding about being ill, but she hated all that pain.

“I’m really trying,” Elizabeth said softly

Thanks OP

When she finally died, I knew she was at peace. She had suffered for so long, yet she still grabbed life by the balls. Even with her failing health in her later years, she would go off to Hawaii to swim with sharks. There was no one like her.

My dear friend remembered me in her will. She left me a beautiful set of sapphire earrings with a matching bracelet and necklace. Her gesture touched me deeply, not just because of her great taste in jewelry and her endless generosity, but because she’d thought to acknowledge our friendship.

Elizabeth had always been generous with me. Many years ago, one of Richard Burton’s costumes from Cleopatra went up for auction. I didn’t have any money to bid on it, so I called Elizabeth and asked if she could help.

“Of course,” she answered.

“It’s a beautiful costume, Elizabeth. I’d like to have it.”

Elizabeth said she’d also like me to have it, and asked, “How much is it?”

I told her I wouldn’t know until I bid. Without hesitation, she told me to buy it.

Richard’s costume ended up costing $16,000. When the auction was over, I called Elizabeth with the total. She sent me a check and never even saw what she’d bought.

Many people asked me for my thoughts when Elizabeth passed. I was happy she was out of pain, yet sorry that I wouldn’t see her again.

In Goodbye Charlie....In one scene, Walter Matthau and I were doing comedic dialogue when he went totally off the script into a story that only he knew. All of a sudden he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, and twirled me around. The entire crew applauded, but not because of Walter’s routine.

They saw my exposed buttocks covered only by panty hose—I wasn’t wearing panties because I didn’t want a panty line. Today I would laugh, but then I was so embarrassed that I turned red and ran for my dressing room, cursing Walter with every step. We didn’t reshoot the scene, and Walter’s improv isn’t in the finished film. But somewhere somebody has a copy of that footage.

Tony Curtis was good to work with again. He was always prepared, always knew his lines, and was especially good at comedy.

At that time I didn’t realize that Tony had been telling people around town that my marriage to Eddie Fisher broke up because I was a lesbian and a lousy lay.

I’m not a lesbian. I may have been a lousy lay, but Eddie was my first love. It would have been nice if he had taken the time to show me what to do to make him happy. Obviously, Eddie felt the need to blame our failed marriage on me. But of all the things he could have said about me, I was surprised to hear this rumor. When I finally learned about it, I confronted Tony.

“That’s what Eddie told me,” he said.

“You’re going to believe Eddie,” I said, “who divorced me and left me for Elizabeth?”

Tony said something like “Well, I’m sorry if it upsets you, but that’s what Eddie said to me. And Eddie’s my friend.”

In other words, I wasn’t.

I guess everyone chooses sides in a divorce, and Tony had chosen Eddie’s.

There was such a backlash from most people against Eddie when he left me and our children for Elizabeth that he spent the rest of his life being the bad guy. But Eddie had earned that title, and I was sorry that Tony spread his lies.

The Tender Trap....My costar in this comedy about a womanizer and the gal who finally lands him is Frank Sinatra. Frank was a great kisser. I really enjoyed the scenes where we made out in his apartment or mine. He was also a taskmaster on the set

Frank was the king in Hollywood, both on and off the screen. He would come to work ready to go, but only wanted to do one take. He was very definite about getting everything right the first time. Our director, Chuck Walters, worked hard to accommodate Frank, making sure that we all knew our lines by the time Frank showed up. Frank kept us on our toes, and the shooting went fast.

We didn’t shoot much on Mondays because Frank needed to recover from his weekend activities. Frank idolized Humphrey Bogart. Every Friday after work, Frank would join Bogart and his buddies on Bogie’s boat. Betty Bacall was the only lady on board for those booze cruises. I would have loved to be invited, but I never was.

One day Frank took me to lunch and asked me a lot of questions about my feelings for Eddie Fisher. I told Frank that I loved Eddie and wanted to marry him.

“You should think twice about this, Schweetie,” he warned me. “Schweetie” was his nickname for me, said with a lisp. “It’s a hard life, marrying a singer. I know.”

Frank’s earnest attempt to keep me from heartbreak was very touching. I could tell he was sincere, and I appreciated that he wanted to spare me from a difficult choice. But I really was in love.

The Catered Affair....I was happy for the opportunity to work with Ernest Borgnine, Bette Davis, and Barry Fitzgerald in this story about a family in conflict over their daughter’s wedding. The only trouble was the director. Richard Brooks didn’t want me. He called me “Little Miss Hollywood” and made no attempt to hide his disdain for me.

Every day Richard was rude to me. Bette noticed and took me into her dressing room. “He’s a prick,” she said. She told me that if I needed someone to talk to, or help in any way, to come to her.

Brooks’s abuse didn’t sit well with the rest of the cast or crew either, and they found ways to show their support for me. Once he slapped me across the face in front of everyone. I don’t know what I’d done to anger him that time. I was always professional.

As he lifted his arm to wallop me again, the assistant director, Hank Moonjean, stepped in front of me to stop him. Later that day, a camera “accidentally” ran over Richard’s foot, breaking it. He was in obvious pain. Everyone took their time removing the heavy piece of equipment.

There was no reason that I could see for Richard to treat me the way he did. I was just a young girl. Like my character, I was engaged to be married. I’d been told that he was a very good director, yet he was so difficult with me.

Bette always referred to me as “Daughter,” her booming voice caressing those two syllables as only she could. She was happy to share her tricks and technique. We became lifelong friends. I adored her. Ernie also became my friend for life.

More, more!! I love these threads

Shelley Winters :

What’s the Matter with Helen?...I play the dance teacher, Adele, and Shelley Winters was cast as her troubled friend, Helen, who turns out to be a murdering crazy woman. And that’s what Shelley became—every minute of the shoot.

Shelley was a method actress. I had no problem with that, having worked with many actors who follow the teachings of Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio. But whatever your school of acting, you don’t have to be nuts to play nuts. Shelley terrorized the entire cast and crew. She thrived on all her craziness and made everyone’s life miserable

Even before filming began, Shelley got into terrible fights with Morton Haack, our very talented costume designer, who’d done such beautiful work on Molly Brown. One day during a fitting, Shelley screamed at Morton that he was trying to make her look fat while making me look thin—I was down to 104 pounds, which worked for my character.

Morton reminded Shelley that she was fat, which Shelley in her saner moments admitted, usually when stating that she was going on a diet (which she never managed to do). Furious, Shelley ripped off all her clothes, stomped out of the fitting room stark naked, and left the set.

She refused to wear anything that Morton designed for her after that. Shelley so soured Morton on working with actors that he quit the movie, returned to London, and never made another picture.

Shelley was irrational about every detail in the film. She wouldn’t show up on time, so I offered to pick her up on my way to work. It was a tense few months of production, which almost caused me to have a breakdown. I hyperventilated at one point, but fortunately was fine the next day.

Because of my deal with NBC, I was an uncredited producer on What’s the Matter with Helen? I was also taking no salary, thinking that if the movie turned out to be successful, the money would come in later. Shelley’s behavior did nothing to endear her to me, and after three weeks I decided to fire her.

But the cost of reshooting her scenes with another actress would have put us way over budget. So we had to keep her, even though Geraldine Page was ready to step in.

But Shelley didn’t make it easy. In one of the last scenes of the movie, her character goes into a jealous rage because my character is getting married. To prevent me from leaving, Shelley stabs me to death. I told the prop masters to get rid of all the real knives so Shelley couldn’t actually do me in. I couldn’t risk her slicing me up just to stay in character

Pier Angeli :

Perhaps the most tragic story of all was Pier Angeli’s. Pier was my dear friend, and her last name suited her perfectly. She was an angel, a beautiful, innocent-looking girl who was loved by almost everyone who knew her. She was also sexy. What a hot combination. Pier had a relationship with James Dean. She was engaged to Kirk Douglas briefly, but they broke up.

The first time Eddie Fisher asked me out was as his guest for his opening night at the Cocoanut Grove in Hollywood. Pier was seated at the table next to mine. She left right after the show, when she saw all the photographers taking pictures of Eddie and me together. I didn’t learn until much later that he’d also invited her. I’ll bet he went to her house right after he dropped me off in Burbank.

Although many handsome men courted Pier, she decided to marry Vic Damone, another singer, which shocked all of her friends. The rumor was that her mother had insisted on it. Vic had a bad reputation around town.

I remember telling Pier that she could call off the wedding and I would drive her to Palm Springs to hide. But Pier refused. “The invitations have already gone out,” she said. “My mother wouldn’t allow it.” She was afraid of her mother, with good cause.

On Pier’s wedding day at St. Timothy’s Catholic Church, we all watched this beautiful young girl walk down the aisle. When she passed my row, I saw tears in her eyes. My heart sank. I wasn’t the only one who was upset that day.

Outside, James Dean sat on his motorcycle across the street from the church. He rode off when the wedding party emerged after the ceremony. I never saw him again. He died ten months later.

Pier’s tears didn’t stop after the wedding. Shortly after she and Vic were married, she became pregnant with their son, Perry (named after Perry Como, one of Vic’s friends). Pier was thrilled about becoming a mother. During this time, I went to her house for a visit.

When I knocked, Pier wouldn’t let me in. I told her through the door that I wasn’t going to leave until she opened it. Pier knew how stubborn I am, and slowly opened the door, hiding behind it.

When I saw her face, I knew why. It was swollen, and she had a black eye.

I was outraged. I tried to convince Pier to leave Vic. She wouldn’t do it. She was too embarrassed, and afraid of him.

Predictably, Pier’s marriage to Vic ended badly, and they fought bitterly over the custody of their little boy. Pier moved back to Italy to live with her family. Her twin sister, Marisa, was wonderful to Pier, but their domineering mother was difficult as ever.

She had Pier committed to a mental facility near Rome, where Pier suffered hell on earth, including sexual abuse by the caretakers, both male and female. Her sister eventually got her released, and Pier returned to Los Angeles to resume her acting career.

But things had changed in the few years she’d been gone, and Pier had trouble finding roles. She studied with an MGM coach, then made the mistake of contacting Vic for aid. He promised to help her get a role in a film if she visited him in Vegas.

She returned from that trip crushed and despondent. She told me that Vic’s promise of help had been empty. She was ashamed and shattered. I invited her to move in with Harry Karl and me, and she slept on our couch until she found herself a little apartment in Beverly Hills.

After she moved, she asked her doctor for a strong shot of something to relieve some kind of pain she was suffering. She didn’t say that she’d already taken a lot of pills. The shot he gave her combined with her other medications to kill her.

She just couldn’t face the world anymore. I didn’t know how she could do this to her child, but I understood the feeling of desperation that led to her ending it all.

Pier couldn’t overcome her tragedy, but I couldn’t see myself taking her way out, no matter how wretched I felt now. It would destroy my family, the most important people in my life.

Thinking about Pier and my own situation, I realized how different people’s lives would be if we made different choices. Staring into space outside my daughter’s house, I wondered: What is my third act going to be? How am I going to overcome this grief?

In July 1974, I was booked to play the Palladium in London, where Mama Cass Elliot had just finished a sold-out two-week engagement. I packed up my kids, Mother, and Daddy, and we all left for England

It was a great time for us.... Bianca Jagger attended my opening night. Instead of my picture with Bianca, the papers featured Daddy standing next to her, his glance fixed downward. Let’s just say he wasn’t looking in her eyes.

Carrie and Todd were then in their midteens. When they heard that Mick Jagger had invited me to a party, they were keen for me to go so they could tag along.

The party was in full swing when we arrived at Mick’s town house in central London, crammed with people from the British social scene as well as friends of the Rolling Stones.

As we began to mingle, Mick pulled me aside and cautioned, “Keep the kiddies down here. There’s lots of adult activities up the stairs you don’t want them to see.”

Happily, there was a great band playing downstairs, so I didn’t have to worry about the huge bowls filled with cocaine spread out like a buffet on the second floor and any other adult behavior “not for teenies,” as Mick had described it. We found lots of folks to talk to.

As the evening wore on we began to see the effects as the upstairs crowd stumbled through the first floor to exit the party.

Keith Richards was carried out on a stretcher. Cass Elliot left in the wee hours and, tragically, died that night at Harry Nilsson’s London apartment, where she was staying. I’ve always thought it a shame that she went home alone. She might have been saved.

Thanks op :)

[quote]Shelley was irrational about every detail in the film. She wouldn’t show up on time, so I offered to pick her up on my way to work. It was a tense few months of production, which almost caused me to have a breakdown. I hyperventilated at one point, but fortunately was fine the next day.

I love Debbie, her memoir and especially Debbie's no-nonsense take on Hollywood and the other actors she knew so well. She tells some great stories, but I didn't feel Debbie had a lot of axes to grind. For the most part she confronted people she had problems with and then let it go. Her stories about Shelley Winters are hilarious, especially Shelley's behavior during the filming of "What's the Matter with Helen". Shelley would literally pull the doors off the frames of the set. Shelley had a vicious fight with the costume designer, who she accused of "trying to make her look fat". At one point, Shelley ripped off all of her clothes and stormed out of the room, across the sound stage stark naked, screaming that "she would never wear anything of his again". And she didn't for the rest of the shoot. But the costume designer was so troubled by his experience with Shelley on the movie; he left Hollywood after the shoot and moved back to England.

I can't remember where I read or heard it, but as Debbie mentioned she was driving to Shelley's house to pick her up every morning to ensure that Shelley made it to the set at a reasonable time. One morning Debbie noticed traffic backing up and eventually Debbie saw a disheveled woman in her nightgown standing in the road, apparently trying to flag down a car. Debbie slowed her car and realized the woman was Shelley Winters! Debbie stopped, feeling alarmed for Shelley, and ask her what was the emergency. Shelley looked confused and then relieved - then Shelley jumped in the front seat of Debbie's car and said, "Oh thank God, it's you - I overslept and thought I'd missed my ride."

In May 1984, I got married for the third time. Like my first two husbands, Richard asked me to marry him soon after we met. I held back.

My second husband was a very wealthy businessman, Harry Karl. His family owned a chain of shoe stores worth many millions of dollars. Harry was older than me, but he courted me until I said yes to his proposal. He gave my children and me stability and a family life that lasted for many years. I let him take care of all our business while I took care of our home and his wardrobe.

The trouble with Harry was that he loved gambling more than he loved me and our family. He squandered all of his money and then went through everything I had earned. When I found out—thirteen years into our marriage—everything fell apart

When Richard proposed to me, it had been twenty-six years since Eddie Fisher left me for Elizabeth Taylor, in 1958. That seemed like a lifetime ago. The nightmare of my second marriage had ended ten years before, and after being a rich man’s trophy wife I’d vowed never to marry again. I’d worked to pay off millions of dollars of Harry’s gambling debts, and I’d rebuilt my life.

So a few months after Richard proposed, I decided to take a chance and marry him.

The day before the wedding, Carrie’s plane arrived from London, but she wasn’t on it. Carrie called to say she wasn’t able to come. This was a difficult time for her. She and Paul Simon were ending their marriage of a few months after being together for many years. She’d recently had a tubular pregnancy, had lost the baby, and had been very ill following the surgery. On top of that, she was devastated that I was marrying again. Carrie didn’t know Richard, and she still felt damaged by my second marriage to Harry Karl

Debbie said she was so angry and upset about how Shelley behaved during the filming that she didn't want to ever speak to Shelley again. But she came to realize that Shelley was really going through some sort of crisis in her life, just as Debbie was at the time. Debbie long, difficult marriage to Harry Karl was coming to an end. Debbie was beginning to realize the extent of Harry's compulsive gambling problem and how it would eventually cost her everything she'd earned, as well as require her to spend years paying off Harry's debts.

Ultimately, she decided she had to forgive Shelley. And Debbie said you really couldn't hate Shelley. At the wrap party for the movie - Debbie told stories about the bizarre things Shelley had done and said during the making of the movie. Shelley just grinned and denied everything, "Oh Debbie, you're making that up to be funny." Only when the rest of the crew joined in and supported Debbie's stories would Shelley admit that "maybe she had been a tad stressed".

Carrie Fisher said in one of her books that part of Harry's downfall was that he got caught up in a poker scam at the Friars Club where professionals had cameras hidden in the ceiling. Apparently Karl lost millions in that one scam alone.

I think she said that George Burns lost a lot of money in that scam too. Surprising that I've never heard anything more about that.

I wonder who the players were - were there any convictions.

Debbie and Harry Karl's million dollar home Greenway Drive, backing up to the Beverly Hills Country Club.

Carrie said it had all the warmth of a disinfectant factory - and that they all slept in the master bedroom together - Carrie on the floor by Debbie's side of the bed and Todd on a couch by the window.

Carrie said if you think of that house as they front of an envelope - they mostly inhabited the little corner where the master bedroom was - about the size and position of a postage stamp.

I’d heard rumors that Richard had a mistress at the Stardust Hotel, loud whispers people must have known I’d notice, that he was having an affair with Jane Parker—that she’d come to Vegas from Roanoke with Richard to help him pass his free time while everyone else was working around the clock to finish the showroom in time for opening night. I didn’t want to believe it.

Why would Richard be cheating, and with her? I’d met her and didn’t think much about her. How could he find the time when we were so busy? I guess people can always find time for affairs.

And now my lawyer had sent me a copy of the deed to a Bel Air property I’d bought, on Angelo Drive. Somehow Richard’s name had been added to it. It knocked me back to the days during my second divorce when I was totally broke and in debt for millions, faced with complete failure in every aspect of my life. It was the worst loss I’d ever felt, and I never wanted to repeat it. After that experience with Harry Karl, I’d insisted that all new property I bought be registered in my name only.

It was true that I’d bought this one because Richard and I were planning to build a new home in Bel Air. But when I saw the deed to the lot in both our names, that old feeling of insecurity washed over me again.

I decided to wait up for Richard and confront him, hoping that he would show up. The more time that passed, the more anxious I grew. I sipped more wine, to soothe my nerves.

It was almost four in the morning; if he didn’t get home soon, I’d pass out at the table.

Finally I heard someone at the front door. I sat quietly as Richard closed the door behind him and latched the security chain. I was dreading the coming confrontation. But I wanted to know where he’d been, and why his name had been added to the deed.

Richard’s appearance made things easier for me. He looked and smelled like sex, his gray hair tousled just enough to make me think he’d recently tumbled out of bed. He smiled when he saw me, that charming smile I used to love. Now it made me angry. I was sure he was hiding something.

“What are you doing up so late, darlin’?” he asked innocently.

“Waiting for you to come home,” I said. “Where have you been for the past day and a half?”

Richard glanced at the empty wine bottle.“I was working.”

“At a brothel? You smell like sperm. I hope it’s yours.” Richard looked at me wearily and said, “You’ve been drinking.” “You bet I have.” I held up the deed to the Angelo Drive lot. “Why is your name on this? You do not own this property.”

“It’s our property,” Richard said, his blue eyes filled with anger. “No, it’s not ours. I paid for it. It’s my lot. You need to sign this.”

I pushed my lawyer’s paper across the table at him.

Richard reached for my hand. “Why don’t we go out on the balcony and talk?” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. This conversation is over.”

“We can talk about this outside,” Richard insisted and tried again to get me to cross the few steps to the open French doors. My hands gripped the table edge in defiance.

“Let’s get all this out in the open,” I said. “Who have you been seeing? Do you really have a mistress? If you can have a mistress, I should be able to keep the lot that I paid for. I think you can sign it back to me; I think I deserve that. You walked out of my show on opening night. You’ve done a lot of bad things at the hotel. You presented yourself to me one way and now you’re somebody else. So sign this paper and get out.”

“Come outside and let’s talk,” Richard repeated, his skin flushed with rage.

“No! Sign this paper. I want my property back.”

Richard scribbled his name hastily across the deed papers, then took my hand to lead me to the balcony. The look in his eyes scared me. Why did he seem so intent on getting me out on the balcony, which is only about three feet wide—not enough room to have a friendly conversation?

Was he thinking about my million-dollar life insurance policy with him as a beneficiary? I could practically see the dollar signs floating above his head, like he was some corny cartoon monster.

At that moment, through the haze of my cheap wine, I was sure he was going to toss me off the balcony. One shove and all his troubles would be over. I pictured myself plummeting twelve stories to the pavement.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, pulling away from him. “You go out on the balcony and I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

I ran to my bedroom and looked for a place to hide. I didn’t know if I could find one, but I wasn’t going anywhere near Richard or the balcony

I opened my closet and quietly closed the door behind me, then shimmied up a pole to the top shelf, where I kept my big luggage and quilted bags, and slid behind the bags, arranging them in front of me so I was completely hidden. After all the work I’d been doing the past few months, I was down to ninety-five pounds, tiny enough to fit behind the duffels and the variety of big satchels. All I could do now was pray.

I shook with fear as silence enveloped the apartment. Time passed. I held my breath as I heard Richard walk through the apartment, slamming doors and calling my name. I really did have to pee; I wished I’d taken a minute to go to the bathroom. But I felt that saving my life was more important.

No sound for another hour or so. The wine had long since worn off. How could I have been so stupid? How could this be happening to me again? My mind raced through the events of the evening. Richard didn’t deny having a mistress, and he was certainly angry.

I imagined him telling everyone, “Poor Debbie. She had so much stress from the opening of the hotel. She was drinking heavily. She must have fallen off the balcony. I wish I could have saved her.”

The stress and the drinking were true. People would believe it was an accident—just a sad case of another drunken ex-movie star. What a great story for the tabloids. I bet I would have been on magazine covers at the supermarkets for weeks!

I could almost see the show Richard would put on afterward: the grief-stricken widower busily revealing all the debts I’d accrued at the hotel, sighing through tears, “It must have been too much for the old girl.” It would have been a perfect crime

Finally I heard the front door close. As quietly as possible, I climbed off the top shelf, lowered myself to the closet floor, and curled up there for another twenty minutes, staying very still. God, I had to pee. Hoping desperately that Richard was really gone, I crept down the hall to the front door. The security chain was hanging loose, a sign that he had left and I was alone in the apartment.

I said a silent prayer, blessing my daddy who had put that security lock on the condo door soon after I moved in. I slipped the chain back in place and bolted the door, sure now that it was true that Richard had a girlfriend down the block at the Stardust Hotel.

After finally using the bathroom, I called security and instructed the office to remove my husband’s name from the parking garage and building pass lists and never to let Mr. Hamlett back into the building

I’D TOLD RICHARD TO LEAVE and locked him out of my apartment, and now it was time to lock him out of my life. My third marriage was over.

Eddie Fisher had left me for Elizabeth Taylor, humiliating me in front of the world. But the most hurtful thing that Eddie did was ignoring our children. He wasn’t mean or vicious to us, just absent.

My second divorce was different. Although Harry Karl wiped us out financially, he was simply an unfortunate man oblivious to the fact that he was harming the children and me. The third time I’d married the devil.

Why didn’t I see this coming? Especially after all the times that I’d saved Richard’s ass by lending him money. My eyes were wide open when I’d taken him on as a project, even though when I married him I didn’t know that he needed propping up. I did what I thought I had to do in order to be a good wife.

Thank God my lawyers always drew up notes for him to sign and I could recover the money somehow when we sorted all this out. I felt the failure everywhere I looked. And this time I’d feared for my life as well as the security of my family

Richard had left my apartment two nights before. I hadn’t heard a word from him since. I called Jane Parker’s room at the Stardust to leave a message for my husband, and he called me back. What a surprise. We agreed to meet at the coffee shop in my hotel. I wanted it to be in a public place.

As we sat at a small table in the coffee shop patio just outside the lobby, in full view, this big man suddenly looked very small to me. He stared at me, those blue eyes as cold as ice. Time stood still. Finally I said, “What do you want to do? Do you want a divorce?”

“I’m in it for the money,” he replied. “I’m not leaving. You’ll never get rid of me.”

I let the words sink in. As many times as I’ve been betrayed, I never get used to the feeling.

“I want you out,” I told him calmly.

“You can’t get rid of me,” he said. “I control everything. It’s all in my name. You’re just a figurehead. You’re nothing. And I don’t love you.”

That’s obvious, I thought. But I said, “I’m not asking you that. I know you don’t love me—you’re keeping a mistress right up the street. You had the nerve to bring her here from Virginia. We’re done.”

“She’s not my mistress,” he corrected me smugly. “She’s the woman I love.” Contempt was all over his face.

“I hope you’re very happy, and I hope I never have to see you again the rest of my life,” I said.

Richard smirked. “I’m going to get the money first,” he said. “I’m going to get all the money.”

“I hope you won’t,” I said, praying to God, please don’t let this happen to me. “I’m going to fight you as hard as I can.”

“You can’t,” Richard assured me with a smile. “That son of yours isn’t clever enough to beat me.”

“Thanks for coming by,” I said

In 1981 I was working at Warner Brothers, on the TV series Aloha Paradise, when I received a phone call informing me, “Your daughter is in the hospital at Century City. We don’t know how serious it is.” No mother ever wants to get such a call. When it happens, the world stops. Your heart pounds so fast, you think you’ll faint, even as your adrenaline rises to meet the crisis. Someone you love is in trouble, and you might not be able to help. It’s out of your control. All you can do is pray.

Carrie had been working on a movie called Under the Rainbow. I knew she was very unhappy, but not that she was in trouble. Without changing my clothes, makeup, or hair, I put on a scarf and rushed out of the studio into a rainstorm. Between my tears and the screaming rain, it was impossible to see the road. I drove across town afraid I wouldn’t make it to the hospital.

I finally arrived at Century City to find Carrie being taken somewhere on a gurney. She was still in her Under the Rainbow wig and costume, curled up on that table, so still and small. Terrified that she was dead, I asked one of the doctors in attendance if my daughter was going to be all right.

“We hope so,” he said. Then they wheeled my little girl away.

I can’t remember much about the waiting room except my anguish. I believe that every mother who thinks she might lose her child has the same feeling. You don’t know what the outcome will be. They don’t tell you that she’s dead, but they don’t know if she will live. It’s horrible. I was frustrated and afraid. Helpless. (I went through something similar when I couldn’t reach Carrie the day I married Richard Hamlett, until Ava Gardner came to the rescue.)

Somehow I didn’t cry. After an eternity, one of the doctors came to tell me that my daughter’s condition was stable and that she’d been lucky. I shook with overwhelming gratitude that Carrie was going to be all right.

Several years later, Carrie was admitted to Century City Rehab. She didn’t want me to come to the hospital with her because I was so recognizable that her anonymity would be gone immediately. Instead, her brother was her companion, constantly by her side.

Carrie and I are so fortunate that our Todd is always there for us. Our housekeeper, Mary, would go to the hospital with fresh linens, quilts, and anything else I could think of that might make Carrie more comfortable. I did whatever she wanted. When the lows hit, we all rally around Carrie, to buoy her up and assure her that she is loved.

This was the episode that triggered her writing Postcards from the Edge. Carrie came out of it finally learning to live a sober life—one day at a time—and used her experience and sense of humor creatively to become a successful writer

Carrie’s bipolar disorder wasn’t properly identified for a long time after I first noticed a change in her; it wasn’t a common diagnosis in the ’70s and ’80s, as it is now.

Sometimes it takes a while before medical knowledge catches up with reality. I remember when the Thalians honored Rita Hayworth as “Miss Wonderful” in 1977. Most recipients made elaborate acceptance speeches. After Gene Kelly handed her the award, beautiful Rita just stood onstage staring at the audience.

“Say thank you,” I whispered in her ear.

“Thank you,” she repeated mechanically.

The fact is, Rita had Alzheimer’s. She used to sing in the street near her house with no clothes on, going over to see Glenn Ford, who was her neighbor and friend. This was before Alzheimer’s was commonly diagnosed. The tabloids accused Rita of being a drunk. My father later developed Alzheimer’s. We now know millions of people have it, and there still isn’t any cure.

Bipolar disorder isn’t new, but its diagnosis and treatment have only become common in the past thirty years. Rosemary Clooney admitted in the late 1970s that she struggled with manic depression.

Originally Carrie believed she was just a drug addict, but finally she came to understand that her body has a chemical imbalance that cannot be dealt with solely by abstaining. It can be controlled with the help of psychiatrists and medicine, and Carrie has been fortunate to have great doctors.

Bipolar disorder is progressive: as time passes, depressions can become increasingly severe. It’s a constant battle. A few years ago, Carrie experienced a deep depression that made her (as she put it) not necessarily feel like dying, but feeling a lot like not being alive. This can be normal for some bipolar sufferers, but it was new to Carrie, and it scared her. Carrie has so much courage. She always ventures forward to seek the newest treatment, refusing to give up. So a few years ago, she decided to try electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT

ECT is not the horrifying shock treatments inflicted on Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Rock Hudson in Seconds and Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream and, going all the way back, Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit.

ECT is a new frontier in the treatment of bipolar disorder, done under light anesthesia so Carrie can recover as soon as she comes home, the same day as the procedure. Now when the lows become intolerable, Carrie gets ECT. She has written about all this in her book Shockaholic

Still, it’s heartbreaking to watch someone you love struggle so. As a mother, I find the hardest thing for me is to love my daughter and not to intervene in her life. I want to do everything humanly possible to keep my girl out of pain, to pick her up when she’s down. If I could, I would suffer for her.

Over the years, many professionals have told me to practice “tough love” with my daughter—to reassure Carrie that she is loved and then cut her off. I can’t do this.

So many of my friends had children in similar situations and did what the doctors instructed. George C. Scott lost his son to drugs, as did Carroll O’Connor. Their tough love didn’t matter once their children were dead. It’s not natural to outlive your child.

This has always been my greatest fear. Like countless others, celebrity families are touched by substance abuse. Being famous doesn’t protect you. Every family has to decide how they will handle their child who needs help, even when that child has grown up. Carrie is my child, and I love her with every ounce of strength I possess. If love alone could cure our children, they would always be well.

Since it can’t, I will do whatever I can to make her life less difficult. Too many mothers have lost their children, for thousands of different reasons. I don’t know if I could survive that. I’m so grateful to Carrie for working so hard to stay well when sometimes it might seem easier to give up

IT WAS SEPTEMBER 10, 2001. Michael Jackson was giving a concert at Madison Square Garden to celebrate his thirtieth anniversary in show business and, belatedly, his birthday in August. I was looking forward to seeing Michael perform live onstage.

Although I’d known him for many years, I usually only saw Michael when he was rehearsing at my dance studio, where he’d worked on his Thriller and Beat It videos. I was glad that he felt at home there.

The concert was being taped for a television special, and Elizabeth would be giving a speech to honor Michael. Before leaving LA, I’d called Elizabeth’s assistant, Tim Mendelson, to ask about getting a ticket.

I went to Madison Square Garden by myself and was seated close to Elizabeth’s party. Michael escorted Elizabeth to her seat; after she sat down, I waved to Elizabeth from mine. Macaulay Culkin was in the audience, as well as many of Michael’s other friends.

The concert was magnificent. I love live performing, so it was a real thrill for me. Michael and his family performed, as did other artists. There wasn’t an empty seat in the house—except when the crowd was on its feet, which was just about every moment. It was an exhilarating evening. I was so glad that I had taken the opportunity to be there.

After the concert I went back to my midtown hotel. I was so wound up from Michael’s brilliant performance that I stayed awake watching TV and reading magazines like the Enquirer.

I woke up to the horrible smell of something burning. My first thought was that the hotel was on fire. I called down to the front desk and was told that there had been a crash downtown and that I should stay in my room until further notice.

The phone rang in my room. It was Elizabeth’s assistant. “Elizabeth heard that you were here alone and asked me to check on you,” Tim said. “This is so horrible,” I responded numbly. “How’s Elizabeth? I’m very frightened.”

“Elizabeth would like you to come to the Pierre and stay with us,” Tim responded. “Her children left the hotel immediately after the concert and are back in Los Angeles by now. You can have their room. Michael and his family left last night by bus.” (The media later reported incorrectly that they’d flown out.)

I packed my things and called the front desk for a bellman. The elevator operator was crying as the bellman helped me with my luggage. Everyone I saw had tears in their eyes. I couldn’t keep from crying myself.

I finally let go once I got to Elizabeth’s suite, where I hugged her and we cried together. There was news footage of people with no hope of being saved jumping out of the towers.

Elizabeth was a gracious hostess in spite of being in a great deal of pain with her back. Her doctor was with her, as well as José Eber, her hairstylist. Elizabeth’s masseur and his little girl were also staying in the large suite. Her French butler took very good care of us as we watched the TV in disbelief, all of us sitting and crying together. When it became too much, we’d go to our rooms and try to rest

September 11 was a Tuesday. I had a concert scheduled in California that Saturday. By Thursday I realized that I was going to miss it; by government order, no planes were allowed to fly. We didn’t know how long we’d be stranded in New York.

I really hate not fulfilling my obligations and disappointing people. On Friday I told Elizabeth, “I have a show to do tomorrow in Escondido.”

“Where’s that?” she asked. I wasn’t surprised. I knew that Elizabeth lived in her own world.

“It’s near San Diego,” I said. “My engagement has been sold out for months. I hate to cancel, but I don’t think there’s any way we’ll get out in time.”

“I’ll phone John,” she said. “Maybe he can help.” Sometime later Elizabeth called to me from another room, “Debbie, we have a plane. We’re leaving in the morning.” “Nobody is getting out, Elizabeth,” I responded

I know,” she said. “But I was married to John. He was happy to help us.”

John was Senator John Warner of Virginia. It must be nice to have an ex-husband who can actually be your friend and be useful too.

Even so, I was skeptical that it would actually happen. In the best of circumstances, Elizabeth was famous for her tardiness. She wasn’t feeling well. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying all week. Her doctor was worried about her heart palpitations.

But when morning arrived, Elizabeth was up and ready to go. We all went downstairs to cars that were waiting to take us to Teterboro Airport, where a private plane would fly us home. There was no traffic as we left Manhattan and no other planes in sight at the airport. The sky was empty, although in the distance we could see smoke in the direction of the city. As we flew over the crash site we saw the heartbreaking devastation below us.

It was an eerie flight. Everyone was exhausted and relieved to be leaving New York. It was so strange to be the only ones in the air.

When we landed in Van Nuys, a helicopter owned by my friend Bob Petersen was there to meet me. Bob owned Petersen Publishing and Hot Rod magazine—if you’re not rich yourself, it sure helps to have rich friends.

I thanked Elizabeth and waved good-bye to everyone as I climbed out of the plane and into Bob’s helicopter. For security reasons, we had to fly in designated airspace.

Holy shit - don't stop now!!!

My breakup with Eddie turned out to be a boon to MGM. Suddenly all the other studios wanted me, which meant MGM just had to decide who to lend me out to and how much to charge. Somehow my salary didn’t increase much. But I didn’t mind as long as I was working.

Before I met Eddie, I was deeply in love with Robert Wagner, and making this movie so soon after my marriage dissolved was a real heartache for me.

RJ had moved on and so had I, but being around him reminded me of my fantasy life. Well, RJ wasn’t interested, so get over it, Debbie.

RJ had to dance in the movie and worked hard to get his positions right. Mostly I kept to myself, though I still have a crush on RJ to this day.

Tab Hunter played my fiancé in The Pleasure of His Company . Tab and I had been friends since we were teenagers.

The studios used to put us together for premieres and publicity occasions. One night in my parents’ kitchen in Burbank, Tab tried to kiss me good-bye. I told him not to.

I thought it would be like kissing my brother. And I was right—Tab is like my brother. It was the early 1950s; there was no discussion about being gay back then.

But I knew that Tab was, and that I felt friendship for him, not romance. I got the sense that he felt the same about me.

We always laughed and had fun when we were together. I’m glad we’ve been friends for so long.

During My Six Loves the shoot, I was pregnant with my third child, my first with Harry Karl. When we finished filming, Harry and I went to Europe for a combined business trip and vacation.

In Rome, I felt the baby stop moving. It dropped down about three inches. I knew immediately that I had lost this child.

When I got home, my fears were confirmed. Abortion was illegal, and a cesarean section would have impaired my health, so I had to carry the dead fetus until it either aborted itself or was stillborn.

I was in my seventh month and wound up carrying the baby to term.

People would say, “You look wonderful. What are you going to name the baby?” And I’d answer with a broken heart, “I haven’t decided yet,” knowing that the baby was already gone.

Devastated, I asked Harry to handle the baby’s burial. I couldn’t bear to know any more about our lost child. Even though this was heartbreaking, we still hoped to have more children

OMG, Debbie knows how to tell a story. And what a life.

Go well, Debbie.

How Sweet It Is!.....In a way, this comedy about an American couple in Paris trying to resist temptations was as true off the screen as on it. Lots of film people have on-set affairs and romances, but I must say that this was the only time I was attracted to someone in the cast.

One of the men my character encounters in Paris is played by the gorgeous French actor Maurice Ronet, who really did it for me. Even if I had ideas about Monsieur Ronet, though, I wouldn’t have acted on them, because I was still married to Harry Karl.

Although we were having problems, I was still committed to my husband. Besides, Maurice was gay, and I wasn’t Elizabeth Taylor! Leave it to me to have two strikes before anything even could get started.

This was a fun film to make. I spent a lot of time in a turquoise bikini. In one scene, producer Garry Marshall wanted me to be nude in bed with James Garner, who plays my husband. I refused to be completely naked.

I argued with Garry, who finally let me do the scene wearing panties and pasties. James was supposed to be nude also, but he kept his shorts on the whole time.

As the scene started, James was to turn toward me and give me a kiss. Sounds simple enough. Then I heard “Action,” followed by an oddly familiar buzzing noise.

Jim had decided to play a joke on me during our love scene. He’d brought a huge vibrator to bed with him. I rolled over and grabbed it out of his hand. I swear it felt like a baseball bat. And I used it like one, chasing and clobbering Jim with it—while still dressed in pasties and panties

Jim would come to our house for parties. He’d make small talk with everyone and then go into my son’s room and play slot cars with Todd while Harry and I and the other grown-ups were partying in the living room. He’s a sweet friend.

The Bodyguard....This was Whitney Houston’s film debut, about the life of a hugely successful pop singer, and was very much tailored to her talents. In addition to playing her bodyguard, Kevin Costner was a producer. He asked me to appear as myself in a scene on the red carpet outside the Academy Awards.

The shoot took a day and was very easy and pleasant. I met Kevin’s parents, who were visiting the set that day. They were so sweet and reminded me of my parents.

I also briefly met Whitney Houston, who was so nice to me. Who knew that we would lose her all too soon? She had the voice of an angel sent from God.

Kevin sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers afterward. You can’t teach people class. You either have it or you don’t. Kevin has it—as did Whitney, who also had beauty and grace

OP, do I still need to buy her book or are all the best parts in your post?

Debbie married Harry Karl because she thought he'd be a good father to her children.

Carrie said the house at 813 Greenway Drive had three pools - just in case two of them broke.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas....I guess you can say that I snuck into this movie based on Hunter S. Thompson’s book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream. When hipsters Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro drive up to a hotel in Las Vegas in a drug-induced haze, my picture is on the marquee as the entertainment. They decide to check out my show.

“That’s a hot chick,” Johnny says as he gets out of the convertible and looks at my poster. Inside, he leans against my picture by the showroom and you hear someone singing.

It could be me I’ve never met Johnny, but I’m tickled that he says I’m hot in Terry Gilliam’s fantasy movie. Thank you, Johnny. He is one of my favorite actors.

When he was learning sword fighting for one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, he and his coaches rented space in my North Hollywood dance studio for rehearsals. I was on the road, but was told that Johnny was delightful and polite to everyone who worked there. I was so disappointed that I didn’t get to see him.

He’s just wonderful. I’m glad we’re in a film together, even if I wasn’t there—which sounds like my romantic life in a nutshell

Behind the Candelabra....I made Behind the Candelabra a year after the auction that broke my heart and saved my life. I was thrilled to be offered this part in a movie with a major director and big stars.

Liberace and his family were friends of mine for many years. Lee (as he was known) was a superbly talented man whose private life remained relatively secret until the AIDS crisis in the 1980s.

When I was asked to play the part of Lee’s mother in Steven Soderbergh’s film based on Scott Thorson’s book Behind the Candelabra: My Life with Liberace, I was happy for the chance to play someone I knew so well.

Lee and his mother lived next door to each other. He had a slot machine installed in the living room of her Vegas house, and Frances was always at it. To practice for my scenes with the machine, I put together a big box and my mother’s old-fashioned meat grinder and worked on my lines while pulling the handle.

My first scene is with Matt Damon, who plays Lee’s lover, Scott. Matt has the most beautiful blue eyes and was very patient as we went over our lines together.

Before filming began, Steven Soderbergh and I met at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. To prepare, I put on one of my mother’s dresses, a gray wig, and a pair of glasses that would make any grandma happy, then waited for my new director in the bar of the hotel. When Steven came in, I waved to him. He probably thought I was an old hooker. He seemed a little surprised that I’d come in drag

Once we sat down together, Steven let me do most of the talking, which I adored. “Is this look all right for your film?” I asked him.

I wanted his approval for the character’s appearance, which was a shocking transformation for me. “It’s fine,” he said. Steven is a man of few words.

We agreed that I should wear a prosthetic nose for the part, as Frances Liberace’s features were much more prominent than mine. We talked at length about my friend and his mother.

My last scene is at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas. Sitting in the showroom where Lee performed for so many years, I had time to reminisce about my friend and the happy times we’d spent there.

When all the news was full of reports that Lee was gay, I told people that I wasn’t surprised. After all, I had taught him how to fly. When he was doing his act at the Hilton, Lee would enter from the back of the showroom and fly over the audience to the stage.

But first he had to solve a problem: his feet remained behind him and he kept landing on his face. Lee’s manager, Seymour Heller, asked for my help. By then, I had mounted so many shows myself that I was considered an expert at handling technical glitches. Fixing Lee’s entrance was simple. The rigging pitched him forward. Once that was corrected, Lee landed perfectly.

Watching Michael Douglas play Lee was a treat. He worked so hard perfecting Lee’s smile and voice and mannerisms and did a superb job of re-creating Lee’s difficult piano performance. Doing that scene many times had to be exhausting, but Michael never complained.

During a break in filming, Michael’s lovely wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones, brought their children to my booth to introduce them to me. Dylan was twelve years old, and Carys was nine.

I was so surprised and pleased when they started singing “Good Morning” from Singin’ in the Rain. Naturally I joined in. These beautiful children who knew my work touched me deeply

When we’d finished shooting, Steven announced that it was my last day so that people could say good-bye to me.

I stood up and thanked everyone and offered to teach them an old vaudeville song. Then I led them in a chorus of “Thing Be”—just like I’d done on Connie and Carla. That always works well with a crowd and is a fun way to say good-bye

R44 I posted the best parts.

There's a part of the "Bright Lights" documentary, which is wonderful but exquisitely painful in some ways, where a childhood friend of Carrie's from the Greenway Drive house days comes by to visit Carrie at he Coldwater Canyon compound on a day when Debbie is sick in bed and not doing well.

The friend says she was 11 years old when she met Carrie who was only 2 years old, and still she thought Carrie was the most interesting person she'd ever met. She tells Carrie about the paparzzi camped out in the neighborhood just to get photos of Debbie driving in and out of the house. She tells Carrie that her mother used to look at Carrie and say, "That little girl is not happy."

Later the friend says Todd was such a happy and sweet child. Carrie says with great self-awareness and honesty, "Yes, things were always easier for Todd. In some ways I knew that even then and I resented him for that."

In some ways, my heart breaks for Carrie...that lost little girl.

But Debbie's voice breaks when she talks about Carrie and what she went through with her mental illness. I think it's the only time Debbie ever breaks down, when she talks about how she worries about Carrie.

I would definitely shop in a Debbie Reynolds store.

Debbie tells great stories about all the movies she worked in.

She says Thelma Ritter, Walter Matthau, and Walter Brennan were three of the best scene stealers in Hollywood - they'd walk away with an entire movie sometimes.

While filming a scene from "Tammy and the Batchelor" Debbie noticed that Walter Brennan wasn't looking at her. After they cut, she asked Walter what he had been looking at while they filmed. He said, "Your ear." Debbie wonder aloud what he was talking about. Walter coached her - "If I look at your face while I'm filming, the camera only get me in profile. If I look at your ear, the camera get three-quarters of my face. Be in the moment but also be aware of what the camera is seeing"

Carrie had moved to a large house in Beverly Hills with a lot of property, including a tennis court. It was usually pretty quiet there in the daytime. I would drive there and sit on a bench and stare into space, going over everything that had taken place in the past few years and wondering how in hell I’d let this happen to me again.

I passed the time crying and thinking about so many things First I thought I was in love and in a happy marriage. I was partly right. I was in love in a happy marriage while my husband was in love outside our happy marriage. Oh well, that had happened to me once before.

Then I thought about how my husband had mangled our finances so badly that I was forced into bankruptcy, losing everything but my memorabilia collection. That had happened to me before too.

What do you do when your heart says one thing and your head—and your lawyer—says another? I was a romantic. I put my whole heart on the line when I loved someone.

It never ceases to amaze me that people feel free to help themselves to my money and property. There is a mentality at work that says, “It’s okay to rob Debbie blind, I work for her.” Or, “She’s my wife, everything she has is mine.” I don’t think like a thief, so I never see this quality in others until it’s too late.

I thought about how so many people in the arts have been destroyed by people around them who either mismanage them or steal everything they own.

Doris Day’s husband and her lawyer took all her money and hid it somewhere. Her husband died before anyone knew it was missing or could do anything about it. My depression kept taking me back to all the people I’d known who had gone through tragic events and didn’t make it

Little Mary Frances "Franny" Reynolds in her screen tests.

Warner Brothers always changed the actors names. They wanted to change her last name, as well, but Debbie stubbornly refused, "It's my Daddy's name. He'd be hurt."

She said it was years before she learned to answer to "Debbie"

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I want to tell you what it’s been like for me to have a child I love completely who has a biological condition that cannot be cured, only recognized and treated. To do that I need to go back about forty years, to when Carrie was thirteen or fourteen and her personality changed.

She became reclusive. One day she’d be friendly with someone, and the next day she didn’t want to see that person anymore. Around this time, all our lives were changing due to the breakup of my second marriage, to Harry Karl.

It was difficult to keep track of the emotions the family was experiencing, and I thought some of Carrie’s conflicts with me were just natural teenage rebellion.

There are different kinds of mental conditions, and some people who have them are more affected than others. I’d worked with the Thalians for years, raising millions of dollars for mental health treatment and research—it’s ironic that this was my charity. But it didn’t occur to me that my daughter might need professional help at that time.

When I was hired to star in the Broadway show Irene in 1973, I decided to take Carrie with me to New York. She was then sixteen. Todd was in junior high school; he stayed behind with my soon-to-be-ex-husband and joined Carrie and me after the show opened.

Carrie smoked pot with the kids in the chorus of Irene. This didn’t seem to be something I needed to control. Then Carrie went to London for eighteen months to study at the Central School of Speech and Drama.

While she was there, she made it clear that she did not want to be in contact with me. I felt rejected and hurt, but since I was the one who had insisted she go in the first place, ultimately I had to do it her way.

After she moved back to Los Angeles, Warren Beatty cast her in his film Shampoo, which was a huge hit and for which Carrie received glowing notices. Then she was cast in Star Wars and returned to London to make the film.

Carrie was only twenty when Star Wars was released in May 1977 and made her an international star. I was the same age in 1952 when Singin’ in the Rain made me a celebrity. The similarities ended there.

When I was twenty, I lived with my parents, and alcohol was never allowed in the house. Two and a half decades later, the culture was sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

I don’t know many young people who didn’t join the fun in those seemingly carefree days before AIDS, crack, and punk rock. Carrie partied all the time with the likes of Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi and the Saturday Night Live crowd. She met her husband Paul Simon through them

There were happy times.

Debbie said, "I have a certificate and movies."

Griffin Dunne told Carrie that she was always a sucker for her dad Eddie Fisher when they were children - "No matter how many times he lied, no matter how many times he didn't show up, no matter what he did...you were just an open-faced sandwich waiting by the door for him to show up."

Every day I worry about my children. When I wake up, I wonder where Carrie is and how she’s faring. Todd has these concerns too, but I do the lion’s share of worrying. I’m sure that’s normal for most mothers.

Carrie is blessed to have her daughter. Billie loves her and needs her, and Billie’s love anchors Carrie. It gives her strength. She and Billie work through everything and are in a great place.

We all have to find strength wherever we can. The AA program has worked well for many people with alcoholism. They also have programs for people on narcotics, and people with food issues or sex addiction. There is help if you seek it. Luckily, I’ve been able to find help in my faith and in my son and daughter, who make my life worth living.

God has given me many gifts. When I count my blessings, which is often, strength is one of the gifts I’m most grateful for, as well as the fact that the things I’ve needed to be strong for have all been outward circumstances and situations. I haven’t had to deal with inner demons as Carrie has, and continues to do every day.

When you have someone in your family who suffers from these severe mood swings, you think that someday you’ll be able to handle them. Not true. All you can do is pray and hang on.

At the end of Wishful Drinking, Carrie states, “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of.”

I’ll end this chapter with a fervent Amen to that.

I am with this WOMAN who purports to be my mother....

I was so in love, but our marriage didn't age well.

My mother sent Eddie to comfort the grieving widowed Elizabeth Taylor.

And he did - first with his handkerchief, then with his arms, and finally with his penis.

This is Debbie Reynold's second autobiography and I've read both of them. In this second memoir she writes a lot about her third and last husband, and he turned out to be a rat. Poor Debbie - all of her husbands were losers and took advantage of her. Thank God she had an upbeat personality and was always able to bounce back. Rest In Peace Debbie - you've earned it.

Celebrating Debbie's birthday on the set of "Goodbye Charlie" with Pat Boone and Carrie Fisher, circa 1964.

Debbie loved working with Cliff Robertson on "My Six Loves"

She also loved to tease him about spending more time in the makeup chair than she did.

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Did she just say Elizabeth Taylor and Monty had become intimate? Huh?

She said they were making out.

She implied that Elizabeth could sway even gay men over to her side of the fence even if only for brief periods.

I've gotten good at saying goodbye.

I've learned to love living with my memories, living with ghosts.

Debbie: I thought if you filmed your children it would make them happy.

Carrie: Oh, so basically, you thought we needed the exposure.

The studio arranged for me to present the Best Cinematography Award at the 1952 Academy Awards.

I'd never been to the Academy Awards and I couldn't pronounce Cinematography, but I was excited so I went out and bought a dress.

I found a dress at Lerner's for $11 dollars. it had a tight bodice and a full tulle skirt - I thought it was the most beautiful dress I'd ever owned.

I was proud of my small waist and I guess I wanted to show it off. But when it came time to get dressed, it wouldn't fit.

My daddy had to put his foot in my back to pull the side zipper up.

Carrie: My grandmother was tough; she had a mean streak. I remember sitting in her lap when she asked my mother about some tickets she'd asked my mother to get for her.

Debbie to her mother: Oh, that show is all sold out, mother. I'm sorry. Is there any other show you'd like to see.

Debbie's mother: Hmmmp, I remember when the name "Debbie Reynolds" used to mean something in this town.

Carrie: I hugged my grandmother hard but I was thinking I'd like to push the mean out of her.

[quote]Debbie Reynold's

Oh, dear.

She was so perky, funny, and girl next door that it was strangely easy to forget how stunningly beautiful she was.

Debbie worked until the end.

At her last Las Vegas appearance she had to recruit Carrie and Billie to help her make it through the show.

It's an emotional moment in "Bright Lights" when she tells Carrie how to cover up the fact that Carrie's helping Debbie walk on and off stage at the SAG Life Achievement Award by leaning in and pretending that they are talking to each other.

Not bad for a little girl from El Paso, TX.

Debbie Reynolds: ‘Everyone I dated was gay. Except for Robert Wagner’

Debbie must have been wearing this on her dates with Robert.

What does she have to say about playing DL Fave Deb Messing's mother?

Debbie was polite about the "Will and Grace" experience but if you read between the lines you can tell that Deb Messing is a fat bitch who has a serious flatulence problem.

[quote]Deb Messing is a fat bitch who has a serious flatulence problem.

Tell us something we don't know already.

I've loved Debbie all my life, and these excerpts just make me admire her so much. What character and resilience, but also such empathy. I mean, she could feel sorry for and truly forgive Elizabeth Taylor, and to bounce back from all those terrible husbands and still keep such a tender heart for her children. Aww. I'm glad that at least she didn't have to live without Carrie.

Well said, R84.

Debbie was a class act.

Debbie tells an interesting story about David Jansen that I'd never heard before.

She said David's mother had lived in Hollywood for many years and had reportedly had an affair with Clark Gable among other actors.

David was apparently convinced that he was the son of Clark Gable, and it may have been true - no one knew for sure.

Debbie said she sensed a sadness in David related to that unacknowledged relationship. She felt it was a part of his heavy drinking and the fact that he died too young.

By the late 1960s, Debbie found it harder and harder to get movie roles, even though - she faced that problem even though she was only in her mid 30s, that was a reality of the time.

She said that she met with Norman Lear many times to get the role in "Divorce American Style". She said she found Norman to be humorless, which she said was often the case with comedians when they weren't "on". Each time she met with Norman, he lowered his offer for her salary until she was doing the movie for a fraction of her usual rate. But she felt she had little choice, because of the lack of offers.

Norman Lear's then wife Frances (the purported inspiration for the character "Maude") Lear was the film's costume director with a young Bob Mackie as her assistant. But apparently Frances didn't treat Bob well. And Debbie and the cast were baffled by the costumes Frances provided - they clothes all looked as if they'd come off the rack of a discount department store. They all wondered what Frances had actually spent the movie's costume budget on.

Before marrying Debbie, Harry Karl, her second husband had been married to and divorced the actress Marie "The Body" McDonald.

Harry and Marie had adopted several children together. Early in Debbie's marriage to Harry, Marie died, leaving three teenaged children. Against Harry's wishes and the advice of many others, Debbie insisted they take those children into their Greenway Drive home and care for them.

One of those children, a girl, had a serious emotional disorder. When Debbie was told that child, at least, should be institutionalized.

Debbie dismissed that advice and said, "Oh no, we'll just put her in Carrie's room."

And they did and Debbie helped raise those children to adulthood.

[quote]She said she found Norman to be humorless, which she said was often the case with comedians when they weren't "on".

Norman Lear is not a "comedian" by anyone's definition of the word.

[quote]they clothes all looked as if they'd come off the rack of a discount department store.

Was it Zody's?

My family lived in Burbank in the'60s, and when the Zody's opened, former "Miss Burbank" Debbie Reynolds was the guest star at the Grand Opening. She stayed seemingly forever, greeting fans and signing autographs at the store - 1000 N. San Fernando Blvd., Burbank. It is now a Kmart.

I liked the story she told of Ava Gardner. She couldn't reach Carrie at a London hotel and was afraid something was wrong. The hotel concierge would not go into Carrie's hotel room just because some woman on the phone from America said she was Debbie Reynolds and to go check the room. It was the middle of the night London time and she called Ava Gardner who was living in London. Ava went to the hotel and using the force of personality, got the concierge to open Carrie's hotel room where they found her unconscious on the floor and had her hospitalized immediately.

No really I know Deb Messing is hated On here but what did she say about Will & Grace?

She was so good on that show...and actually no matter what anyone says here, she and the "other" Deb worked very well together.

And of course she should have been Oscar nominated for Mother. Didn't Albert Brooks date Carrie at one point?

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.....

Her Molly Brown was atrocious!

STFU r8. OP obviously purchased the book, didn't he? Publishing won't die because some has posted a few movie star bios on a gay website.

Please, OP, do continue...

R96=Kathy Bates

Hi Kathy, your Molly Brown was good too. Have you lost weight? You look good.

(Don't make her angry - she's batshit.)

R93, She's not hated, Honey.

People just get tired of Deb stinking up the place with her gas and her irrational need for attention.

Take a Beano once and awhile. Sweetie

Debbie loved Eva Gabor - she goes on at length at what a wonderful person and good friend Eva was.

Although, she did a spot-on impersonation of Zsa Zsa Gabor in her act - she makes no mention of Zsa Zsa in her book.

When Debbie arrived at MGM in 1950, Lana Turner was already a big star.

Debbie explains in the excerpt of her book above about how Elizabeth Taylor seemed to enjoy tumultuous and even violent romantic relationship when she was young.

But Elizabeth wasn't the only female star who enjoyed that kind of relationship. Debbie says that Lane Turner often arrived at the studio so bruised or badly beaten by her current lover that shooting would have to be delayed or rearranged.

Debbie may have picked some bad husbands but she never fell into that pattern of being a victim as some other women of her generation did.

R97, no you shut up! You shut up!

Wow, what a quick comeback.

Debbie never gave up on Judy.

She realized how easily she too might haven't fallen into the cycle of needing uppers and downers to meet the studio's expectations.

Debbie staged an intervention for Judy at her house a few years before Judy denied. Judy, deep in denial, said goodbye to everyone and left immediately.

I think one of Debbie's funniest stories is about June Allyson.

Debbie was visiting June's beautiful country house one weekend and June was giving her a tour of the house.

When they reached a window on the landing, June told Debbie to take a look at the marvelous view. As Debbie turned around from the window to tell June how beautiful it was - she saw June drinking the contents of a bud vase and hurriedly putting the bud vase back on a chest.

As It turned out, June had Vodka hidden in vases and other containers all over the house

Kim Novak and Debbie in a early photo.

P.S. Reliable sources say Nancy Reagan would never have had a career in Hollywood but she would've gone done in history as being one of the most sexually capable actresses, particularly her blow job techniques, in Hollywood history had she not gotten pregnant by Ronnie

It's a shame she had a nut job for a daughter.

I'd love to know how the story of Nancy Davis, Blow-Job Queen, got started. Does anyone have a source for that? DL is the only place I've heard it.

I think it was probably when Nancy sucked her 500th Hollywood dick and really perfected her technique.

As Nancy's mother, who was also an actress, famously told her daughter:

"Honey, those producer and directors dicks ain't going to suck themselves."

R108 It's from Kitty Kelley's biography of her.

Excuse me....

Could we get back to Debbie and her plot to make me "look" fat?

Thanks, R111.

Well, Kitty Kelly didn't make that story up....

Stories have circulated about Nancy Davis for decades before Kelly's book came out...

Kim Novak made Nancy look like a nun. Novak did everything with anybody. Debbie was very nice to all the sluts.

And the Gays, Debbie loved the Gays all her life.

Tab Hunter, Liberace, etc., etc. etc.

I love this video of Debbie and Tab. They look so young and golden.

And this one

Oops

This picture must've been taken before the studio had Debbie's ears pinned back.

Otherwise, I don't know why they would have given her this unflattering (also Princess Leia-like) hairstyle.

Debbie said they tried sticking her ears back with glue but her ears would pop back into position before the shot was over.

Eventually they took her to a doctor who had learned his craft by operating on corpses. But he did a good job - her ears didn't stick out and she looked great.

The studio sure bet a lot on little Mary Frances. A young gal from the middle of nowhere. Whoever took a chance won the bet.

Even being gay, Tab Hunter would've been a better husband than the three she actually married.

Debbie wrote that she had a number of Transient Ischemic Attacks (TIAs) in the years before her death, sometimes called mini-strokes. She wrote that she'd simply be unable to make herself understood; she could understand everyone else perfectly. She felt she was speaking find, but, in fact, she was uttering only gibberish during these attacks.

....

Sad for all the people in Eddie Fisher's life, but especially Carrie.

She wanted so much to have a relationship with him that she became like a parent to him in his final years.

One lesson from Debbie's memoir:

Don't let a man come between you and your real friends.

Lord help the mister, who comes between me and my sister, but lord help the sister, who comes between me and my man!

R108, I thought I'd read here on DL that the Nancy Davis blowjob story came from an autobiography by Kennedy in-law Peter Lawford, who supposedly took a road trip with Davis and another man during which Davis performed on one or both of them.

Of course, the story may also be in Kitty Kelley's biography.

If anyone's interested, Tab's autobio is $1.99 today on Amazon. (Kindle version.)

I never realized that his co-author (Eddie Muller) is the guy who hosts the Film Noir showings on TCM.

I give Tab's book a B-. If he had dished all the dirt he claimed to know but passed over because he didn't want to gossip about other people it would have been an A+.

She was a hoot!

If Kitty Kelly said it it's almost certainly fiction or distortion. Why would this one book be different from her others.